Sumo Thoughts on Ryōgoku

I spent last Tuesday at the national sumo tournament. It was crazy, of course. It’s been a pretty busy last week, so I haven’t been able to write about it yet. The bad news, though, is that I definitely lose my blogging motivation one week after the fact.

I had been hoping to write a bit about the history of sumo, its relation to the temple where I live, its place in the social fabric of the neighborhood, and other super interesting things like that, but that all may have to wait for another time.

I will say, though, that sumo is in indelible part of this neighborhood. Much the same way I’ve learned to brace myself for the words “dry heat” anytime I tell someone I’m from Tucson, Japanese people inevitably ask me about sumo when I tell them I live in Ryogoku. If they’ve heard of Ryogoku at all (and many—even lifelong Tokyoites—haven’t), it’s only in connection to sumo. “I’ve been to Ryogoku once,” I often hear from Japanese. “And I saw a sumo wrestler! Have you ever seen one?” Indeed, I have seen sumo wrestlers. Every day, in fact. I see them at the grocery store, at the dry cleaners, and at the 7-Eleven. So, of all the stereotypes associated with moving to Japan, being immersed in sumo culture is definitely one that I’m living.

Now, for some pictures. I actually took some pretty decent pictures (I think), so I need to find a place to post the rest of them online soon.

Makushita (beginner level) sumo wrestlers engaged in a bout.

A judge watches a bout from outside the ring while two other wrestlers wait their turn.

Action shot. These guys are also just beginners--like the equivalent of Triple-A baseball players.

Staring contest.

The beginning of a makuuchi (senior divison) bout between two very highly-ranked wrestlers. By this point in the day, there is a huge crowd in the stadium.

Call Me in Japan for Free

Once again inspired by Ted's initiative (those computer science majors!), I've set up a fancy Skype account. Now, thanks to the wonders of the internet, I can call numbers in the U.S. (or anywhere in the world, for that matter) for free. The best part, though, is that YOU can call ME in JAPAN for FREE! Cool, right? The phone call works just like calling any other number in the U.S., so if you're calling from a land-line, you'll just be charged regular long-distance rates, and if you're calling from a cell, your standard cell phone rates will apply. If I'm at my apartment, my computer will ring when you call, and if I'm out, your call will automatically forward to my Japanese cell phone. It's pretty awesome. But you don't have to take my word for it--give it a try. Here's the number:

520-385-6083

You'll make me really happy if you call, and I'll be really excited when I answer the phone and realize it's you. You can go ahead and add it to your cell phone directory now: "Rob in Japan." Hope to talk soon!

You can still download regular Skype, though, and we can video chat. I'll give you a tour of the apartment. Skype is free, and setup is really easy.

Thanks for putting up with my pleas for a phone call. Here are some pics of the temple where I live:

Front entrance to the main building of the temple.

The temple is a popular burial site for the souls of departed pets. This is a monument for beloved cats (those cans are cat-food). The buildings immediately to the left and behind this monument are pet mausoleums.

Amida Buddha watches over the (human) cemetery at the temple.

A common feature of many temples are monuments to mizuko, the souls of children from abortions, stillbirths, and miscarriages. The kanji in the word mizuko are the characters for "water"and "child."

The temple's burial monument for Ratboy, whom I've been told is something like the Japanese version of Robin Hood.

大盛: Super Size that Rice Bowl!

After continued griping about the food here, someone asked me this week if food is my biggest frustration about being here. I think it probably is.

I don’t dislike Japanese food at all, but the lack of variety in the cuisine is astounding. My meal options generally consist of some variation of ramen (ramen with an egg, ramen with leeks, ramen with mountain roots), curry and rice, diced beef and rice, or buckwheat noodles (either with or without broth). Tonight, for example, my entrée consisted of a small plate of chopped beef with cabbage and a large rice bowl. Last night, my entrée (though it looked different on the menu) turned out to be a plate of chopped beef, an all-cabbage salad, a large rice bowl, and miso soup. The prior night, I was pretty giddy to see tacos listed on the menu, but—of course—the “tacos” turned out to be shredded beef and a few pieces of lettuce over a small bowl of rice.

There is sushi too, of course, and I definitely have not tired of sushi. Like steak, however, sushi is just not something you can eat every night. Unlike steak, however, a huge plate of sushi, while delicious, is not really satiating. I confess that I’ve developed a guilty love for uni (sea urchin) and anago (sea eel) (not to be confused with unagi, freshwater eel), though my favorite kind of sushi at the moment is toro (fatty bluefin tuna belly). Someone at work casually asked me the other day what my favorite Japanese foods are, so I mentioned uni and toro. She proceeded to caution me not to consume too much uni and toro lest I get fat. I withheld my laughter, but I seriously cannot imagine how much uni and toro I would need to eat to get fat.

Tonkatsu (breaded pork cutlet) is also a favorite common dinner dish, but I don’t find it too appetizing. My neighborhood is also known for the large number of restaurants that serve chanko, the meat-and-vegetable stew that is the food of sumo wrestlers. I’ve been curious to give chanko a try, but several people have advised me to wait until the weather gets cooler before trying it.

In addition to the lack of variety, portions are tiny, especially compared to American standards. Last week I was excited to try an Italian restaurant in the neighborhood that I had been eyeing. My gnocchi consisted of about ten tiny little dumplings, so I then ordered a bowl of minestrone soup, the total contents of which could have fit inside a can of tuna fish. The temple is kind enough to provide lunch for me on Tuesdays and Thursdays; Tuesday is o-bento box day, and Thursday is sandwich (as in finger sandwiches) day. I greatly appreciate the temple folks’ generosity, for they’re certainly under no obligation to provide me lunch as it’s not part of my contract or anything, but I do seriously wonder if they earnestly believe that the caloric intake in these meals is sufficient for an adult male. Still, the gesture is terribly kind on their part.

I’m pretty sure I’ve lost weight since I’ve come here, which concerns me, of course. I’ve been told though that weight loss is a common occurrence for American males living in Japan, so that’s slightly comforting at least. I definitely miss eating all my meals at Cap, and I miss the food there (even home-food Sundays). I just learned the Japanese word that’s used to upgrade one’s rice bowl to a larger portion, and I’ve been making good use of it, though I think my body is reaching its maximum capacity of rice. Also, super sizing a rice bowl just doesn’t provide the same satisfaction, say, as moving from the Cowboy to the Big Cowboy Steak at Pinnacle Peak.

There are many foods that I miss, and chief among them is bread. I’ll also add fresh fruits and vegetables to that list, which are bizarrely very expensive in Japan. In fact, buying food at the grocery store can be quite expensive, while eating out is pretty cheap. This, at least, I like in that it provides a justification for me not trying to cook. I also miss bagels and and tuna fish. I find I’m always craving a sandwich, but I have yet to find the local deli. The closest thing I’ve found to steak is hamburg, which is just a hamburger patty with no bun that is eaten as steak. It’s pretty easy, then, to find hamburger patties, but I think I’ve only encountered one legitimate hamburger since I’ve been here.

The academic side of me wonders if my assessment of Japanese food is fair. Is there really less variety in the diet here, or am I just accustomed to the American conception of variety? Do the Japanese genuinely lack variety, or do Americans just have an above-average selection of food choices? For that matter, what is Variety, and how do I know when I encounter it? These questions aside, I know that I am consuming an ungodly amount of rice and ramen and curry and miso soup.

I started thinking tonight that there’s no way the Japanese could possible be following the traditional American USDA-sanctioned food pyramid. (Wikipedia, for what it’s worth, informs me that there’s a new American pyramid in use now anyway.) I googled around a bit and discovered that, sure enough, the Japanese pyramid looks different. Here is what the standard Japanese pyramid looks like, but I found an unofficial version (here) that seems more accurate to me:


Let’s start in the “grains” section; note the preponderance of foods with “rice” or “noodles” in their name. Under “fruits,” there are no apples or bananas or grapes, though we find kiwi and persimmon. Similarly, “vegetables” lacks tomatoes but includes coltsfoot (sounds like an athletic infection, I think!). Under “meats,” Subway turkey breast is not listed, but we see globefish and shark. Just for the record, the non-kosher to kosher ratio of Japanese “meats” according to this diagram is 2:1.

I don’t mean to complain too much, but a burrito would be really nice. For the time being though, I’ll keep experimenting with different ramen sauces and super sizing my rice bowl.

Kampai! Salud! Cheers!

It’s hard to believe that Princeton Lawnparties are going on at school at this very moment as I write this. It pains me not to be there. My seersucker oxford has been staring wistfully at me all day. In the spirit of Lawnparties, however, this posting will at least include a couple drinking stories.

This past weekend has been a shockingly social one for me. I generally spend many of my evenings walking around Ryogoku, trying different ramen shops, attempting in vain to distinguish one from another. This weekend, in comparison, has been pretty busy.

I know I swore off Roppongi after my adventure there last week, but my grad student friends (ever-dwindling in number, as they finish up their lab work in Tokyo) invited me to go out again, and I wasn’t about to decline the opportunity for company. The ensemble this time included the same American girl and two Italian guys that I’ve been hanging out with, but they also brought their Colombian friend along this time. I thought we made for a pretty international little posse. The night was fairly similar to the one last week except I drank much less, so the night went by much slower. I also talked for a while with a girl who says she teaches at the British school of Tokyo, and I (very randomly) bumped into a guy who is Princeton ’98. We still ended up with about five rounds of free shots at Geronimo (I love that gong!), but I stopped drinking by 2:45 when we headed to the club. Roppongi is definitely seedy, and I can see why it’s so popular with foreigners, but it’s the perfect place to go out if you enjoy dancing with middle-aged Japanese women.

I’ve been in touch with a girl who graduated from Princeton in ’07, and though we didn’t know each other at all Princeton, she’s been extraordinarily kind in helping me get acclimated in Tokyo. Ami had invited me out to lunch on Saturday with another girl from her hometown. The three of us met for lunch in Shibuya, and it was pretty cool to exchange stories about life in Tokyo and to hear what they think of this insane city. Ami has been working at an American bank in Tokyo, and the other girl has spent the last ten months at a Japanese software company. I was definitely impressed.

After lunch, Ami, who’s fluent in Japanese, was kind enough to volunteer to help me get a Japanese cell phone, which has been high on my to-do list for a while now. Even in Shibuya, which has a large population of foreigners, signing a cell phone plan was incredibly complicated. There’s no way I could have done it without Ami.

Ami and I also took a little time to walk around Shibuya. This was my first time in Shibuya, and like many districts in Tokyo, it’s absolutely crazy. I’ll have to read up on it, but Ami explained that Shibuya is known—among other things—for containing the largest and busiest crosswalk in the world (after traversing it, I believe it!); a huge number of stores selling ridiculous sneakers; the “Shibuya girls,” trashy-looking Japanese girls with dyed brown hair and short shorts; and a large house music scene. It's also the district of Tokyo featured in Lost in Translation. I definitely need to go back to explore more, but Ami and I did stumble upon a random street matsuri happening!

Traditional Japanese Matsuri in Shibuya in front of a McDonald's and a Condomania.

Later that evening, I found myself invited to a dinner party at the apartment of this twenty-something year-old Japanese guy. His roommate is Spanish but doesn’t speak Japanese, so they speak English at home. The Spanish guy had his brother and three friends visiting from Madrid, and the Japanese guy invited two of his friends over, so once again, it was an incredibly international evening! Even though I was the only one for whom English was a first language, English was the only language everyone had in common, so we spoke English all night. The Spaniards made Spanish tortilla omelets (which I’ve never had before), and the Japanese prepared rice and miso soup with special miso paste from Nagoya; I felt like I should’ve contributed hamburgers or buffalo wings or something. The food was delicious, the company was nice, and the beer was plentiful. Hearing so much Spanish even made me feel (a little) like I was in Tucson. The whole experience—eating Spanish omelets and miso soup in Tokyo—was absurd but in an awesome way. It was definitely one of those classic PiA experiences that I’m learning to love and that make all the frustrations of being here worthwhile.

Ryogoku dinner party with my Japanese and Spanish friends. Note the ground-level table.

Hosts of Difficulties but Happiness Feelings

What am I doing in Tokyo? That’s the question I ask myself every day. I’m still not really sure what the answer is, but after two weeks of officially working at the temple school, I’m at least starting to figure out what I do from day-to-day.

I teach twenty-two classes a week at the temple kindergarten; after factoring in planning time, it ends up being just over forty hours a week. Even though the temple refers to the school as a “kindergarten,” (youchien), the school is really what we would in America call a preschool. It’s similar to the kind of preschool that’s often found at U.S. churches and synagogues. There are three grades: 3-4 year olds, 4-5 year olds, and 5-6 year olds. I had no idea I would actually be working at a preschool when I decided to come here, but even in hindsight, I think I’d make the same choice.

I actually only “teach” the 5-6 year olds, though I’m supposed to play with all the children. A typical day goes like this: I leave my apartment at the temple around 9 a.m. and walk downstairs and about twenty feet into the school courtyard; from 9-10, I play with the kids outside (it’s been a great way to learn the words for ant, mud, and tag); from 10-12:10, I teach two adult classes of mothers (beginner, intermediate, or advanced, depending on the day); I have a long lunch break until about 2; from 2:20-3:50, I teach two classes of 5-6 year olds (this is called waku-waku class, which roughly translates into exciting English class!); from 4:30-6:40, I teach two classes of elementary school students who come to the temple for English instruction (1st-4th grade, depending on the day). By the time I finish saying my good-byes and bowing repeatedly, it’s about 7:15 before I get home.

The job is incredibly exhausting. I’m enjoying it a lot, but it’s pretty challenging, albeit in an extremely different way than Princeton was challenging. Each class presents its own set of challenges. With the mothers, it’s difficult to gauge exactly how much English they know and to teach the class in a way that isn’t too easy or too difficult for them. The amount of lesson-planning involved is also tiring.

There is a co-teacher, Takahashi-sensei, who leads all of the younger classes with me, and she does much of the lesson-planning for these classes. Still, I think it is the younger classes that are the most difficult. There are six different elementary classes, and I see each one only once a week, so it’s a challenge to put together a lesson that they’ll remember for a week. The elementary classes range in size from 4-10 students, but the amount of singing, reading, dancing, and charade-playing is pretty fatiguing.

The most difficult classes by far, however, are the waku-waku (kindergarten) classes; each class has about 25 students, and I’m learning that the 5 year-old attention span lasts for seven minutes. The amount of smiling, laughing, and singing involved in teaching/entertaining these kids is insane. This week, for example, I’ve been trying to teach numbers. After doing greetings, I had the kids count from 1-10 several times, first in a loud voice, then in a soft voice, then in a high voice, then in a low voice, etc. After seven minutes of counting, I lost their attention, so I quickly started teaching them this week’s new song: Ten Little Pretty Flowers (the p.c. version of Ten Little Indians). That interested them for seven minutes, so then it was on to helping Curious George count bananas and kangaroos and camels and flowers and lollipops and balloons and yellow hats and kites and penguins (“George sees eight balloons! How many balloons does George see?!” “Eight!”). Then, coloring worksheets, and then… You get the idea, I hope. Just take my word that doing this twice in a row is amazingly draining.

That should give you a general idea of what teaching is like. I’m sure I’ll have a lot more to say about it in the weeks ahead. Some days are definitely easier than other ideas. On Mondays, I don’t have elementary classes, so I’m done by 4, and on Wednesdays, I only teach the adult classes, so I’m done for the day by 12:15. Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays, though, are the tough days that have me working until 7 p.m.


So, what am I doing in Tokyo? I’m still not sure, but I’ve been thinking a lot today about a quick interaction I had with one of the mothers in my 11 a.m. intermediate class this morning. As Kotoe entered the room, I asked her how her week’s been. “Same old, same old,” she said. “Yours?” I actually couldn’t help but laugh. Those are probably the four last words I would ever use to characterize my life recently.

This weekend marks a month that I’ve been in Tokyo, and I feel much more comfortable than I did my first week here, but life continues to be difficult in many ways. Ryogoku is growing on me quite a bit, but again, there’s a lot I’m still trying to get used to in this quiet, traditional sumo neighborhood. To be sure, I am happy I’m here, but it’s a very different kind of pleasure than, say, the unadulterated elation of Lawnparties (which I can’t believe I’m missing this Sunday!).

I find every new experience, of which there are many, to be both invigorating in its richness and also frustrating in its alterity. My current mission is to get a cell phone; it’s aggravating enough dealing with the Verizon people in the U.S., but this pales in comparison to the hurdles I’ve faced trying to sign a cell phone contract in Japan.

I had some errands to get done this evening in Kinshicho, Ryogoku’s livelier neighboring district (also home to the closest Subway, where I may have had dinner tonight). Walking through a department store, I caught a glimpse of a bag and t-shirt on sale. I’ll have to save my thoughts on the role of English in Japanese consumer culture for another time, but the bag said this on it: “All of the American University Student: You will get over hosts of difficulties, and win. Time pasts very fast.” And the t-shirt: “It is the way react [sic] to circumstances that determines our Happiness [sic] feelings.” I bought both.


And some pictures:

Cat hanging out on one of the temple monuments at night. The irony, perhaps, is that immediately behind this monument is a giant pet mausoleum (one of the many things for which the temple is known).

Kinshicho Station during rush hour. This is a quiet area of Tokyo, though. This is nothing compared to what one of the big train stations look like even during off-peak hours.

Tokyo Nightlife

I continue to be shocked by how different the various districts of Tokyo are. On Friday night, I had my first real taste of the nightlife that I’ve heard Tokyo is famous for.

My grad student friends (who, sadly, are all leaving in the coming weeks) invited me out with them for a night in Roppongi, the ultra-chic nightclub district where a ton of Westerners work, live, and play. Before I go any further, I should say that Tokyo nightlife—from what I’ve gleaned—is a bit strange in that it’s an all-or-nothing deal. The wonderfully efficient mass transit system shuts down around midnight, and unlike in New York, cabs are prohibitively expensive to take across the city. Thus, one either goes out early in the evening and is home by midnight, or alternatively, one goes out late and stays out until the first train around 5 a.m. Our plan was to stay out all night.

We met in Roppongi around 10:45, and our first step was Geronimo, a bar that is supposedly pretty famous among Westerners. If hearsay is to be believed, Roppongi has over 3,000 bars, but I’m really not sure why anyone would ever go anywhere but Geronimo. The bar is known for a little gimmick it does: there is a large gong that hangs over the bar, and when one strikes the gong, he or she must purchase a round of shots for everyone in the bar at that moment. It sounds ridiculous (and it is!), and I assumed no one would ever be foolhardy enough to strike the gong and blow hundreds of dollars on a round of shots, but in the few hours that we were there, it happened about five or six times! I suppose there are a lot of wealthy Western businesspeople in Tokyo with limited ways to spend money. It was certainly the cheapest way to imbibe I could have imagined!

After a few hours at Geronimo, we headed to one of the many clubs in Roppongi to continue reveling. The night flew by quickly, and we didn’t end up leaving the club until 5:30-ish. Before jumping back on the subway, we stopped for some Roppongi street döner. I didn’t end up getting back to my apartment until 7:15 a.m!

It was an awesome, crazy night, but I’m not looking to repeat it anytime soon. Also, there are no pictures because I didn’t want to bring my camera and then lose it. Someone may have been taking pictures though, so if I get any, I’ll post them.

Sushi for Breakfast!

Sushi for breakfast was definitely a first for me! Supposedly, it was sushi that had been in the water not that long before, too!

A fraternity brother had put me in touch with a friend of his from high school who’s been doing grad research in Tokyo for the summer, so I met up with him and three other people from his lab early Thursday morning to check out Tokyo’s famous Tsukiji Fish Market. When I say “early,” I mean reallllllly early. All of the exciting action at Tsukiji happens incredibly early when restaurant buyers show up to make purchases, and I had heard that it’s best to arrive as close to sunrise as possible. So, the five of us met at Akihabara Station at 5 a.m. There was an American grad student girl and two guys from Italy. The Italians’ English wasn’t excellent, but I found it much easier to communicate with them than with Japanese people. At least Italian is an Indo-European language!

A fish market might sound a little lame (especially at 5 a.m. on a workday), but it’s one of those things that really needs to be experienced to be understood. It was one of the coolest things I’ve done in Japan thus far, and it definitely has a solid place on the “awesome life experiences” list.

The market is a gargantuan complex with hundreds of fish vendors selling anything you could imagine from the sea. The whole experience isn’t really conducive to words, but I wish I could have recorded the smells. The aisles are incredibly tiny, and there are large piles of fish guts everywhere. I definitely got splashed at one point with a bucket of drained eel blood. I had been warned not to wear sandals, but I was in a rush earlier in the morning, so it was valuable advice that went unheeded. Most people there were wearing boots.

Navigating the market is pretty hazardous. Aside from the risk of slipping, there are tons of forklift-like vehicles that whiz by and don’t stop for people. I’m actually surprised more tourists aren’t injured daily. It’s the closest thing I’ve ever seen to a human version of Frogger.

There’s a large section of the market where expensive maguro (tuna) are auctioned off each day. It was pretty crazy to watch massive slabs of tuna get auctioned in a giant warehouse. My trusty Lonely Planet says this of Tsukiji: “About 2246 tonnes of fish, worth over 1.8 billion yen ($15.5 million), are sold here daily; that’s 615,409 tonnes of fish worth some $4.25 billion a year. It’s not unheard of for a single tuna to fetch an incredible ¥20 million.” Here's a quick video of part of the tuna auction:


After we felt we had sufficiently absorbed the market (and after our clothes had sufficiently absorbed its pungent wonders), we followed tradition by heading to one of the market’s peripheral sushi-ya for a fresh sushi breakfast. I may have been deceiving myself since it was 7 a.m., I was exhausted, and I wreaked of seafood, but I really think it was the best sushi I’ve ever had.

I was also pretty excited to be able to carry on a conversation in Japanese of decent-length with the sushi chef (although the sentences weren’t much more complex than “These are my friends. They are engineers…”), but as I thought back on the conversation over the course of the day, I realized all the stupid things I said.

I had to work until 7 p.m., and then I had a Japanese lesson in the evening, so it ended up being a long, painful day. One more exciting thing happened before day’s end: over the last few weeks, I’ve searched in vain for a bar—any bar—in walking distance of my neighborhood. I had failed in this regard and had all but given up hope of finding myself a nice, local watering hole where I could feel comfortable and grab a brewski when needed. As I was walking back from the Japanese lesson, though, I passed a small storefront in a tiny alley with a sign that said ‘Popeye.’ I probably should have learned my lesson after my Japanese salsa dancing fiasco, but I really was desperate to find a bar, so, hesitantly, I entered. I genuinely couldn’t have been more elated had I stumbled upon El Dorado. Popeye, it turned out, was an American-style sports bar with forty beers on tap! This, in a random, tiny alley in Ryogoku! A lot of the beers were Japanese microbrews. Popeye's website claims they sometimes have seventy beers on tap--the "largest number of taps in Japan!" I promised the bartender I’d be back very soon.

A few photos from Tsukiji Fish Market:

www.tokyostoryblog.com

Thanks to my older brother, a software engineer in San Francisco, this blog can now easily be accessed using www.tokyostoryblog.com!

A couple of people have asked me about pictures. First, I just discovered that you can click on all the photos on the page for a larger image. Second, I will try to post more photos online somewhere, and when I do, I'll link to that page.

Getting Jewey in Japan

I officially started work this week, which has been exhausting, so I haven’t had a lot of time to write. As I’m learning though, the craziness of Tokyo never slows down. Two interesting tidbits from Wednesday:

First, I realized recently that the High Holidays are approaching, and I need a place to go. After I got off work on Wednesday, I decided to scope out the local Jewish Community Center which doubles as Tokyo’s only synagogue. The synagogue’s website directed me to the temple’s “temporary offices.” As it turns out, the 55-year old synagogue was demolished the week I arrived in Japan in order to begin construction on a new facility that should be finished in a year. So, I followed the directions to Omotesando, far into the opposite side of Tokyo. It was a part of town I had never seen before, and its Upper-East-Side-meets-Avenue-Montaigne poshness seemed a world away from the little sumo haven that is Ryogoku.

While the new synagogue and community center is under construction, the entire operation is being run from a small condo in a housing complex that seemed to cater to Western businessmen. I found the sign at the door amusing, as I figured there couldn't be very many signs in the world in Japanese and Hebrew. I rang the bell, and a Japanese woman answered the door. After I explained my purpose, she said something about there being “no Jewish people here.” I was hoping “here” referred to the facility at the present moment and not to Tokyo as a whole! She must have sensed my dejection at hearing the news because she quickly invited me inside to discuss membership options and the upcoming holiday services. Even in Tokyo, it seems, one must purchase tickets for the High Holidays!

You may be wondering what a synagogue is doing in Tokyo and how many Jews there could even be in Japan. According to a brochure I received at the temple offices:

Membership currently includes approximately 150 families or 450 people. About half are American citizens, one fouth Israeli citizens, and the rest a variety of other nationalities, including Japanese. Most of the members are businessmen in foreign trade, banking, finance & insurance, technology as well as doctors, journalists and graduate students. In general, most members and their families are semi-permanent residents.

I also came across the following article online, which claims that "Japan's Jewish population... is probably about 600:" Daniel Ari Kapner and Stephen Levine, “The Jews of Japan,” Jerusalem Letter 425 (2000).

The other interesting part of the trip was that as I was leaving the condo complex I bumped into an older gentleman affiliated with the Social Science Research Council. We chatted for a few minutes, and it turns out that his neighbor in the complex is a Sophia University religion professor that several people have suggested I contact. I found it to be pretty coincidental.


Second, after my synagogue visit, I reluctantly decided to return to Akihabara for the millionth time to try to order those light bulbs that I’ve been hunting down. I didn’t particularly want to return to Akihabara, and nor did I think it would be fruitful, but I remembered that I had promised the guy at the light-fixture store that I would return on Wednesday. It turned out to be a good idea. Not only had the guy gone ahead and ordered the light bulbs for me, but they were beautifully gift-wrapped with ribbons! Only in Japan…

As I was leaving Akihabara, I noticed another Subway and got pretty excited. I was about to eat there (would have been my third Subway dinner in a week) after walking around for a few more minutes. This place, however, caught my eye instead:


I was craving a burger, so I thought a place called American Diner Bar & Grill would be a safe bet. I was definitely salivating thinking about the milkshake that I would order. Unfortunately though, the American-ness of the place was pretty questionable, and the menu didn’t even have hamburgers! This, at least, made me feel slightly less guilty about ordering the Mexican pizza.

Lastly, a couple night shots of Akihabara:

Eating Fresh--Again

Temple life definitely has its highs and lows.

Today’s low: showing up late after a miscommunication to a school assembly I was supposed to be at from the beginning. It was embarrassing enough to walk into the crowded school auditorium while all 230 students, 14 students, and the principal were engaged in a prayer session led by Enchou-sensei. I tried to stand politely in the back and go unnoticed. It wasn’t until I felt hundreds of pairs of eyes on me that I realized I had just been introduced. The other teachers (politely) jostled me to the front of the auditorium, where Enchou-sensei threw a microphone at me, telling me I should introduce myself. I heard him whisper that I should discuss my hobbies and what my hometown is like. I couldn’t have been more mortified, and I definitely froze on the spot. I would like to think that ordinarily I’m a pretty decent extemporaneous speaker, but at that moment, the limited Japanese I knew escaped me. Stuttering, I managed to pull off, “My name is Rob. In August I came here from Arizona. It’s very nice to meet you,” before dejectedly scurrying back into the corner. I was feeling sorta crumby about my morning performance all day.

Today’s high: bumping into Keiko-sensei (Enchou-sensei’s wife) on the way to the grocery store and having her unexpectedly take me out to an amazing sushi restaurant. I was walking to the grocery store, and I saw Keiko-sensei walking toward me holding groceries, so I wished her a hearty kombanwa (good evening). She stopped me and started asking me (I think) about what I was going to buy at the grocery store and whether I liked to cook. Then, I thought (incorrectly) she started asking me whether I liked sushi and whether I was planning on buying fish. I started to explain that making sushi was much too difficult for me, but she turned and started heading back in the direction of the grocery store, gesturing for me to follow her. I grabbed her groceries and followed her past the grocery store and into a beautiful sushi restaurant. Apparently, she had been asking me whether I wanted to join her for dinner for sushi.

We had a very nice conversation about sumo, the etymology of kanji (Japanese written characters), and sushi (of course). The food was incredible, and I was pretty happy not to be eating dinner alone for a change.

I’m slowly learning the difference (linguistically, if not gustatorily) between uni and unagi (sea urchin and eel), aji and ika (horse mackerel and squid), and saba and sake (non-horse mackerel and salmon). I should mention that I'm not trying to eat a lot of shellfish here, but it's hard to avoid doing without being rude.

Eating Fresh in Tokyo

Talking not about sushi but Subway (the restaurant)! The highlight of my day was definitely discovering (well, having someone else discover at my request) the closest Subway. It’s only one train stop away, so that’s not terrible. I’ve been badly craving a sandwich since I arrived here, and the lack of bread in the local diet has been killing me. I’ve had more sushi (and it’s been delicious), ramen, miso soup, green tea, and rice (tons of rice) than I could have imagined since I’ve been here but almost no bread at all. The Subway people were a bit skimpy on the meat and fixin’s of the sandwich, and the meal was much more expensive (bizarrely) than most dinners I’ve had here, but I was pretty happy nonetheless.

Subway was a much-needed American comfort after a pretty frustrating day. Every small errand here presents its own share of challenges and has the potential to be incredibly mentally-fatiguing. I’ve been trying to obtain light bulbs for my bathroom for a while now. The temple folks had told me they would get some from their stock for me, but after a while, they got back to me and said they didn’t have any. I went to Yodobashi (the giant electronics store), and after an hour of pained conversation, I realized that they didn’t carry what I needed (I should’ve known then that something was wrong). The Yodobashi guy gave me the name of a tiny specialty light-fixture store in Akihabara, so I returned to Akihabara today to find it. No one in Akihabara had heard of the place, but finally some guy at the video game store was king enough to google it for me and to print me a map. Even then, it took me another 90 minutes to locate the store. As it turns out, the store (which was indeed tiny) was located in a back alley and had no sign!

The guy at the shop spoke absolutely no English, but I think I was able to convey what I needed. Again, I have no idea what he said to me, but my impression was that the light bulbs I need have been discontinued and have to be special ordered. I tried to place an order for them, but he told me (I think) to return on Wednesday (didn’t understand why, though). The whole experience was very draining, and, like I said, I was feeling pretty mentally-fatigued from the whole three-hour ordeal, and then it started pouring—again.

I took a couple of pictures in Akihabara today. The one below is pretty representative (though Akihibara is best appreciated at night when its luminosity rivals Times Square). Note the ominous, overcast sky. The photo was taken during one of the few moments today when it wasn’t storming. The one above is of Yodabashi Camera, and those aren’t offices. That’s 9 stories of pure consumer retail space. It’s insane.