(Almost) Too Cute to Eat

Reiko ushered me into a wonderful bakery in Kurihama after we hiked through Flower World. I was fixing dinner that night for a family with a new baby, so I decided to get the Hello Kitty and Pikachu buns for the older siblings. Not that I ever need an excuse to buy baked goods . . .

Matt polished off Totoro before I could dream up a way to ship it to Totoro's fans in Norfolk or Peoria. The baker makes cartoon character buns in every size imaginable. I'm searching for an excuse to order a 10" x 12" Totoro. Matt doesn't seem very enthused about a Totoro graduation party so maybe we'll have to plan a special homecoming celebration for the Ancient Mariner.

Yet the bakery was not the day's culinary highlight. That prize goes to the noodle shop in the Kurihama station where Reiko treated me to slurpy ramen, the freshest gyoza that's ever danced across my taste buds before melting in the back of my mouth, and a mango dessert with a pleasant texture somewhere between jello and pudding.

Between slurps, I quizzed Reiko on gyoza sauce. This was a self-serving conversation since the three miniscule sauce packets the department store clerk tucks into my box of gyoza in the department store basement do not begin to cover my 18 dumplings.

Reiko makes her own sauce from three ingredients: soy sauce, vinegar, and rayou. Rayou is a Chinese oil infused with chili peppers. Subsequently I learned that Dr. T dips his gyoza in a homemade sauce concocted from soy sauce, vinegar, and sesame oil.

I'll try making my own sauce soon but not before we polish off the bottled gyoza sauce Reiko found for us in a grocery store. The bottled sauce combines Reiko's recipe with Dr. T's. Yum.

Exploring Recycled Kimono and Obis

Twice a year, in the spring and fall, the community center near Yokohama station hosts a recycled kimono sale. Used kimono and obis are dirt cheap, and old kimono deemed unfit for resale are cut into strips and sold as fabric for craft projects.

If you want to get the attention of a certain category of Navy spouse, just stand in the center of a commissary parking lot and yell, "Kimono! Obi! Fabric!" Add "Dirt cheap!" and they'll follow you anywhere. Like a herd of stampeding buffalo so be sure to stay on your toes.

The sale begins at 10:00 am but we were standing in line by 8:45 to get entry numbers. Only the first 100 customers are allowed to enter the sale room when the doors open. As the sale progresses, smaller groups are admitted every fifteen minutes.

After landing numbers in the upper twenties, we had time for coffee before reassembling in our original order. We were as giddy as a troop of Girl Scouts on their first trip to Disney World.

Katie demonstrated the various properties of her Amazing Tote Bag for the ladies behind her while I showed a pair of sneaky ladies who were trying to edge in ahead of me the quickest route to the back of the line. They were trying to pull the old "I will chat with my good friend who is standing in front of you and then just slip through the door behind her" trick but I made my point by tapping on a shoulder and flicking my thumb toward the back of the room. If they had not immediately scurried back to their proper places in line, I was prepared to try my throat-slitting pantomime.

My role in this expedition was simply to get my companions to the community center and show them the ropes once we arrived. I was certainly not interested in buying any kimono or obis - I still haven't figured out what to do with the stuff I bought two years ago - but standing around watching other people fondle textiles is not my idea of fun so before long I was pawing through fabric scraps and stuffing the more delectable finds into my trash bag.

Still, I left Yokohama only $18 poorer and that's certainly less than any of my pals can say.

Flying Carp! It's Boys' Day!

Children's Day has been a Japanese national holiday since 1948 but for more than a thousand years the Japanese have celebrated Tango no Sekku, the Boys' Festival or Feast of the Banners. The government changed the name of the holiday to Kodomo no Hi but May 5 is still Boys' Day for most of my Japanese friends.

Carp-shaped koinobori flags have been blowing in the breeze throughout Japan for the past several weeks. There's one the size of an infant whale in our backyard. I swear it's doubled in size since we bought it in Okinawa three years ago. If you think suspending it from that tree limb was easy, you have obviously never seen me throw a softball.

Matt and I are munching on brownies and lemon cheesecake today in lieu of the traditional Boys' Day treats, kashiwa-mochi (mochi rice cakes filled with red bean jam and wrapped in oak leaves) and chimaki (a sweet rice paste wrapped in an iris or bamboo leaf).

Inhaling Wisteria and Yakisoba

Go bury your nose in the nearest wisteria even if it means climbing a barbed wire fence and facing down a Doberman. Assuming you survive the Doberman, you will thank me for this advice. (And if you don't survive the Doberman, I'll be consoled knowing that thoughts of me were among your last.)
Today's adventure took us to the village of Koshigaya, about 90 minutes and just one train transfer north of Yokosuka. Hisaizu-jinja Shrine was our specific destination and we had no trouble finding it. We just followed the trail of wisteria along the canal bank. Sniff, sniff, sniff, sniff. Aaaaaah.
Like many bridges in this country, the bridge we took across the canal was a work of art. Many manhole covers are works of art too. The people who work on neighborhood revitalization at the Department of Housing and Urban Development ought to try to sneak more whimsy into public projects in our country . . .

While we're wending our way to Hisaizu-jinja, I'll share some snippets from my guidebook, "A Flower Lover's Guide to Tokyo" by Sumiko Enbutsu.

In 1837, nearly 200 years ago, a rice farmer named Kawanabe Kunizo moved a 50-year old wisteria by boat from a village 20 kilometers away and planted it at Hisaizu-jinja shrine to express his gratitude to a famous scholar, Hirata Atsutane, who shared his extensive knowledge about classical literature with area farmers on his frequent visits to the shrine.

The shrine itself, which sits within a sacred forest of pine and cypress, is believed to have been founded in the 12th century.

Kawanabe planted his wisteria on the edge of a pond. We'll stroll to the other side of the pond in a minute to get a panoramic view.

Let's see what the trunk of an almost 250-year old wisteria looks like. Pretty much what I expected. How about you?
Oh, the view from across the pond is quite lovely. The only problem is I can't smell the wisteria from over here. Sniff, sniff. The scent is too delicate to carry this far. Sniff, sniff. I am starting to look like a Mississippi bloodhound tracking an escaped convict through a swamp.
Check out the miniature shrine on the tiny island in the middle of the pond. Egad! Shades of Shomyo-ji, there are at least two dozen turtles piled up on the left side of that island. I think I'll admire the festive lanterns instead and follow them to the food stalls along the path to the shrine. The food stalls and lanterns only appear when the wisteria is blooming. This is my lucky day!
Look at that enormous lantern! How can I give my readers an idea of the size of that thing? Oh, good, that lady is trying to get her two little dogs to pose in front of the lantern. Now you can see that it's definitely larger than your average lantern.

This is where I was going to insert the obligatory group picture but my pants look really stupid with my shoes so you'll just have to use your imagination.

Time for lunch. Would anyone care for a fishstick? I thought not. For the first time in my life, I tried yakisoba. Remember how Goldilocks tasted Baby Bear's porridge and she ate it all up? That was me and the yakisoba. Then we couldn't help but notice Jane moaning as she nibbled on a pancake shaped like a hockey puck so we all got one of those for dessert. They were piping hot, filled with custard, and really did taste like pancakes.

My only regret is that I talked myself out of tucking my knitting into my bag when I set out this morning. The trains weren't nearly as crowded as we were warned to expect by the official Navy Know-It-All(s) so I could have added an inch or two to my sock-in-progress. And Mary Beth could have borrowed one of my needles to poke the drunk who sprawled next to her between Tokyo and Koshigaya.

In Search of Wisteria

It's Greenery Day, the second of three consecutive Golden Week holidays (yesterday was Constitution Day and tomorrow is Children's Day). Today half the population of Japan will be visiting parks and gardens to admire nature's gifts. Make that half the population of Japan plus a half dozen batty American women who are always in the market for a good adventure, especially one that entails being packed like an upright sardine in a train car for 90 minutes.

Our destination is Jindai Botanical Garden in Tokyo where we hope to see lots and lots of many varieties of wisteria. Or maybe we'll go to Koshigaya in Saitama Prefecture north of Tokyo to see wisteria drooping over the river. My flower guide book and two sets of train directions are in my bag. I'd tuck my knitting in there too but there's little chance I'll find space to move my wrists on a train today.

A Brief Commercial Message

While I'm scrambling around getting ready for the Oakleaf Club's Golden Week Bunko Party tonight -- which is not a theme party no matter how much it sounds like one - you might want to check out Betty's Travel Blog.

Betty (29) and Lulu (25) are the two youngest Knitwits. They met each other at one of our knitting sessions last fall, formed one of the fastest friendships in the history of Navy Wifedom, and last week set off on a two-month backpacking trek that will take them to countries I'm having a hard time locating on a map.

Lulu has a nursing degree and Betty's career history includes a stint managing a go-go bar in Virginia. They are an interesting pair, to say the least, and I am going to miss their companionship, wit, and knitting advice until they return to Starbucks on a Thursday night in late June or early July.

Remind Me to Get This Out of the Way Earlier Next Year

Friday was my team's turn to host the monthly Shonan event. We put on a lovely garden party on the roof of the Fleet Industrial Supply Center overlooking Truman Bay. (I'm going to have to find out who decided to rename that body of water after Harry Truman so I can point my finger in the right direction the next time someone calls ME mean-spirited.)

One of the crafty team members, ie, not me or Mimi, decorated aprons for the Japanese Shonan members to wear while they potted herbs and flowers. The American members just had to deal with the dirt.

Everyone tossed bean bags into flower pots, sipped peach nectar tea and raspberry lemonade, and nibbled finger sandwiches and fruit tarts.

Prizes were awarded to the ladies who showed up in the prettiest and most outrageous hats.

A good time was had by all, including the team member who lobbied to treat the group to lunch at the American military hotel in Tokyo in lieu of a theme party. Outvoted, she threw herself into party preparations with a vengeance which at times got within kiss-blowing distance of cheerful.

She researched garden party menus and games on the internet. When someone else came up with the idea of potting plants, her feigned enthusiasm looked sufficiently sincere to land her the task of collecting supplies - a trip to Tokyo for sturdy carrier bags, two trips to Kurihama for pots, plants, garden soil, and drainage stones since her car could not hold everything at once, and one trip to the 100 Yen store for trowels and watering cans - and then lugging those supplies to the aforementioned roof.

When the team decided to serve the food and beverages in fancy dishes, she wrapped all her heavy glass bowls, pitchers, pedestals, and her china cups in dish towels and bubble wrap for the journey to that roof.

Then she peeled, seeded, and chopped enough tomatoes for six batches of gazpacho and rolled and sliced asparagus-beef pinwheels.

Apparently she is more of a team player than we thought. Shame on us.

Decorating the hat was the hardest part and not just because she is missing the gene for creativity. Lack of motivation was an issue since the hostesses would not be eligible to win one of the prizes. So she just dangled a half dozen cell phone charms from holes she punched around the brim of her straw hat and then tacked a felt Anpanman to the crown.

It turns out her fellow team members spent a lot less time on their hats (none pictured here) than she did on hers. Will she ever learn?

That was a rhetorical question. There will not be a prize for the best answer. Unless, of course, someone is screamingly witty.