Tradition: Behind the Snark

My affair with Japan is like a good relationship: I care for the darn place so much that at times I hate it. I can't pretend the bad sides don't exist (that would be denial, very unhealthy), but after cooling down remember once again why I fought so hard for so long to return.

Outside the new Kabukiza, glowing in Ginza's neon twilight, I can just make out the sound of the hyoshigi, the inimitable high-pitched wooden clappers, which never fail to make my ears prick up.

From my open window I watch a trademark Yokohama Pastel Sunset, and hear strains of far-off Bon Odori music.

Walking home I smell curry, unagi and ramen, laced together with a faint hint of summer rain on the wind.

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Funny how it is smallest things that reassure us that all is well.

Blossoms in the Chill

Plum trees bursting with color proudly announce that spring is (slowly) arriving to our fair city.

Right by my station there is a trio of very pink ume, which brighten up the landscape every March. They are so perfectly balanced that they almost look fake, and contrast beautifully with the light green stripes on the Toyoko line trains as they zip by.

I appreciate the ume blooming despite the cold winds, bringing the reminder that plum and sakura flavored goodies will soon crowd shelves and menus across Tokyo.

Not far from my house there is a secret bairin (plum orchard), which I wrote about for Deep Japan. Check it out from here.

After the Storm

Typhoons rush through the streets, bending signs and scattering potted plants, like rainy vandals.

However, the skies they leave behind, once the winds die down and the clouds clear, make for the most glorious sunsets.

My usual haunt for long runs, the Tsurumigawa, was unusually cluttered with photographers, intent on capturing a gold-backed Fujisan.

Sadly, as I do not run with proper photographic equipment, I had to make due with my phone... which fails to truly capture the incredible fiery rainbow that was the sun's last hurrah before sinking below the horizon.

A Sunday of Nostalgia: Bashamichi and Nihon Oodori

Yokohama is still something of a grand dame. Perhaps no longer the celebrated talk of the town, but with sparkle showing that, in her heyday, she was a beauty to be reckoned with.

The long wandering walk from Kannai to Nihon Oodori gives a glimpse into the exciting Meiji and Showa days, when this port brought the world to Japan, and viceversa. The sweeping stone buildings, reminiscent of Paris or London, topped with copper that has gone green with age.

Those born and raised in Yokohama are called Hamakko, children of the port. And even now, when in Tokyo more and more remnants of the past are torn down and replaced with conbini, Yokohama still protects her children and her history.

Stained glass, the scenes very different from those I grew up with in Europe, show in their tints the earliest memories of 'gaikokujin', of terrifyingly large ships and palanquins, overseen by the immortal phoenix.

Eventually, tired from walking and finding all restaurants closed for weddings (alas, the scourge of all port towns), we take refuge in the Cafe' de la Presse on Nihon Oodori. The press is quiet, and the sound of heels on wood parquet brings a hint of nostalgia. A very bistro lunch (main, salad, bread) rejeuvenates us, as we watch an omiai meeting unfolding (successfully, it seems) at a nearby table.

Runner's High

Every once in a while, amidst the usual series of runs that range from the quite good to the downright awful, you get a glimpse of perfection.

One of those rare runs that remind you exactly why you lace up, despite the cold, despite the hour, despite the fact that all you feel like doing is curling up in a futon and getting scantily clad Oguri Shun look-alikes to bring you endless cups of Earl Grey tea (anyone?...oh, just me then).

These experiences sneak up on you. The first 10 minutes may feel unremarkable, if anything a bit on the sluggish side, but suddenly something else takes over. Call it what you will, the runner's high or divine grace, it is unmistakable. Your body takes control, each stride smooth, your breath quiet and regular, your thoughts Zen-like in their passing. Your feet flowing seamlessly, effortlessly, as if you could run forever and never stop, into the purple and pink ombré of the sunset.

12 kilometres, over an hour of constant forward movement, pass in an instant. You are almost afraid to stop, a little sad as the memory chips in your calves guide you back home, because you know this state of endorphin-ridden grace will have to end. And you never know when it will reoccur, no matter how you try to recreate the circumstances to catch it again. I can only imagine that the true, ultimate goal of marathon running is to experience all 42 km in this perfect state.

Through the green, tapir-shaped basin of the Tsurumi river, with the wind cooling my face and Brooks Glycerins armoring my feet, I will continue to chase it.

A Sunday in Motomachi

There are some days which are just radiant with simple perfection, blue skies,laughter and tea punctuating the hours instead of a clock.

Sunday started with a sudden bout of inspiration, leading me to a coffee shop two hours before the start of our date, to write and write and write. Walking past the sunset colours of my favorite hydrangeas, feeling particularly pretty thanks to my fresh, bright nails.

A lunch of sushi, my favorite umeshiso and wasabi root rolls melding across my palate. But lunch is quick, as the main event of the day is next: a walk across several of Motomachi's pocket sized parks with a friend of Matcha-kun's and (more importantly) his corgi.

 It has been far too long since I got to play with abandon with a corgi, and his owner seems thrilled that we get along and Kai obeys me so well. Of course the secret is the little bag of puppy biscuits I brought as a gift. We stop for a drink at a little bar populated with sunburned expats, Kai trying to get a sneaky sip of Guiness, to no avail.

We separate, my new friend tired out from all the excitement. Now in two, we stroll down to Ishikawacho, then the long single backstreet of Motomachi until getting to Mutekiro. The restaurant is, unsurprisingly, closed for a wedding, long swathes of unfortunately cheap looking tulle winding up the iron banisters, a pity on such a lovely Showa building. However the cafe' is open, and we step in for a pre-dinner drink. The Fauchon au lait, a strange but delicious combination of chilled milk and tea liqueur, served in a thick chilled glass, enchants so much that my companion can't help but laugh at my blissed out countenance.

Dinner is also courtesy of one of Matcha-kun's varied acquaintances. We enter Hollywood's basement, all beloved film memorabilia and dark corners. Jekyll and Hyde's food is amazing, particularly the 'secret pumpkin', and I am told the omurice is fabulous as well. I sip a Casablanca champagne cocktail, as a neighborhood cat slinks in to say hello. Perfection.

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Hama Life

Most of my friends had 10 days off for Golden Week, but sadly that was not my case. I decided to use the 4 day weekend to get started on pre-training for a marathon ( like the training to be able to do the actual marathon training... very convoluted). Since the first week of doing 24 km is the toughest, being able to take naps in the middle of the day is very helpful.

However, one cannot live exclusively in running gear, so a few visits to Yokohama were a good excuse to get dressed in actual clothes and wander about.

I had an amazing gorgonzola and honey pizza at Lu's Cafe, while leafing through a book about interesting hikes and (of course) little restaurants hidden in the mountains. There seem to be a bunch in Nagano, another good excuse to visit the region.

Near the station I also came across a classy store called Papilloner, which has some really neat bags. One particular Furla-esque bag caught my eye, so now I finally have a summer purse. It can be worn 4 different ways, so awesome!

Since it is spring the ramen chain Kagetsu once again is purveying their green, 100% vegetarian Nana ramen. Great stuff, and the fact that a whole bowl is only 411 calories is just icing on the cake (bowl?).



Also, how adorable is the poster for the Yokohama Triathlon? Love it, very clever.

Up by Yamate, I finally got the chance to stop by one of the fancy cafes located in the old ijinkan. The Yokohama Jyubankan is a beautifully kept Showa building, with a menu to match ( they do not have cappuccinos, only cafe' au lait). The Baiser cake (chocolate and raspberry deliciousness) is also classically French, one of those perfectly balanced cakes. I totally recommend checking out the rose gardens nearby, for a very British feel.

Round out the weekend with a special Cinco de Mayo Sumo Hash run (including a piñata!), dinner with friends and a koto lesson, and all in all it has been a nice Golden Week.

Sakura Days: Mitsuike Koen and Kishine Koen

With all weather forecasts showing that it would rain over the weekend, I had resigned myself to only getting to see the (admittedly pretty) sakura on my walk to work.

 However the weather gods decided to show their favor, and we managed to have two dry, if chilly, days to enjoy the fluffiness to the max.

On Saturday a couple sharemates and I headed over to Kishine Koen for an evening hanami session. I have been trying to seek more local sights, instead of always running off to Tokyo, and this park is a great find. While there are not as many sakura as in other places, the trees they have are huge! Being rather minor, it was not crowded at all, and we got a nice bit of the wooden deck near the stream to ourselves. There is also an awesome slide, that we spent a good 15 minutes sliding down.

The following day was Mitsuike Koen's turn, a really large park with three small lakes and tons of trees. It is a bit troublesome to get to, as you have to catch the 104 bus from ShinYokohama station, but I think it was worth the trek.

 While there were lots of visitors, the sheer size of the park allows it to not feel crowded. There are plenty of places to lay out your blankets, without having to overhear the conversations of nearby groups.

 The afternoon slowly got colder, and poor Matcha-kun had shown up in a t-shirt. Fortunately I was wearing lots of layers, so lent him my oversized sweater and scarf... just to find that he looks better in it than I do! Very unfair ;p

Hidden Tokyo: Ookurayama Bairin

This year spring has decided to sprint on rapidly. I am just getting over the plum tree overload, and the sakura are already begging for our collective attention.

Once again my beloved Ookurayama reveals its secrets, in this case a lovely little forest of plum trees (bairin). Since it is a kind of odd spot, the crowds are relatively sparse, making it easy to get a seat under a nice, fragrant tree. On a stage in the background (draped in the traditional red and white stripes), musicians and local music students play a series of traditional Japanese instruments.

 I love the bright reddish-pink ones the most, but they also happen to be the hardest to find...and are always surrounded by photographers!

 

After a pleasant rest on the park, we decided to finish off the day on true hanami style, getting sushi at a place right in front of the station. Basic, but I really reccomend their wasabi maki, which are oddly addictive (and sinus clearing!)

Despite moving into spring, my wardrobe seems to be in monochrome recently (except for bright red lipstick). If done correctly it can be a look with a lot if dramatic impact, and very useful in a profession where you want people to remember you. Although in my case it also has something to do with trends on Italian fashion (all of these are new clothes purchased during my trip home!)

But that's fine, I shall leave the pastels to the sakura!