cuddlefish | (no subject)

Day 1
I had a terrible time with the dry air on the airplane. I kept sneezing, and I felt funny about blowing my nose in front of Japanese people so I kept snorting up everything. As we were descending, my sinuses started protesting all the abuse and I took three Ibuprofen. The pain went away completely once we got under a certain altitude. I don't know the word for sinuses, but I feel confident that I could describe my symptoms to a doctor, should it come to that. Unless he's come English-practicing freak who doesn't want me to speak Japanese.

I also ended up with chapped lips. I bought a lip moisturizer in the hotel convenience store. I specifically picked the one that didn't say it had menthol in it, and it still has menthol in it. So now my lips have that cold burning feeling. FAIL.

The Japanese are crazy. I know this for a fact because my hotel room's window faces an office building with many big buildings, and I can see inside. The women were the only ones moving around the place, and boy were they moving. It's like my own personal ant farm.

Every girl in Japan is prettier than me. And I only brought jeans.

The Japanese sell happiness at convenience stores. I know this for a fact because I bought a maku no uchi bentou for my sixth? Seventh? meal in the longest day I have ever had. It came with one of everything, and I ate it all except the green beans and the konnyaku. I also bought a flan with whipped cream on top. It was a horrible disappointment. The label covered up the lack of whipped cream in the middle of the flan. It was too light; I couldn't taste the eggs. The caramel was made with something bitter and gelatinous, which basically meant there was this brown alien shit on the bottom of my flan. I could not be convinced to eat it, not that anybody tried to persuade me. Not even the flan hung onto it when I scooped it up. I will try "baked flan" next time. My father bought mango ice cream (limited time, this season only) and liked it.

On the plane, I sat next to two Japanese girls who were apparently in college and definitely prettier than me, though their boobs were not as big. They completely ignored my game of RadiMy, which I played almost constantly. The one that was right next to me had a plush of Stitch in Easter finery. It was very cute, and this turned out to be one of many times during the day when I was offered the chance to reach out to someone with Japanese and just said, "fuck it." Could you really see me starting up a conversation with this superior woman, who by the way had a brand-name pocketbook, and bought a perfume set from the plane's duty-free store? She spent the whole flight discussing fashion magazines and god knows what really fast with her friend. I took Japanese for twelve years and I understood 5 words she said.

The economy section was also invaded by 42 high school students from...Niigata Kokusai Jouhou High School. I think that's it. They were all in uniform. I wanted to kidnap all of them.

On the plane, I sat in the very last row. I'm not fucking kidding you. On the plane, there was a baby sitting in the row before the very last. Right in front of me. When other kids in economy, who were old enough to talk and know better, wailed, this beautiful little lump was peaceful with mom. It was the second miracle of the plane ride. (The first was curry and a salad in an airplane meal! Yay!)

Narita airport was a very bad place for me. It was full of moisture, which my sinuses were so grateful for, but it was my first steps on Japanese soil. My first steps on Japanese soil. I can't properly describe the experience. Twelve years was far too much and far too little. I'm pretty sure I thought I was dead. I'm still not completely clear on this point.

I was so freaked out the first time someone complimented my Japanese that I accepted the compliment. SHIT.

The bus ride from Narita to hotel took over two hours. (They said 90 minutes.) There were only cherry trees for the first ten minutes. The rest of it was Japan living next to the highway on a traitorously dreary spring day. Dad fell asleep, but I stayed awake the whole time and saw everything. Boston is prettier.

Computer running out of juice. Tired. Leave me alone.

Day 2
I still get scared every time I remind myself I am in Japan, surrounded by Japanese people and things.

I saw a repeat of Naruto on TV and remembered that there's anime here. (I was tired last night, okay?) As it turns out, I'm going to be in Japan for the first episode of Kamichama Karin.

We mailed a plain postcard from a nearby post office. The guy there spoke English. We saw a hobo. He was walking bent over. Did he hurt his back? Was he sick? I'm not okay with the idea of someone losing their job, home, and life because they got sick in an ugly way.

We went to Shinjuku Gyoen for the first part of the day. I'm too tired to write about it and I'm just going to copy and paste in an e-mail for the rest of the day. Every time I lie down and close my eyes I get vertigo, and my back hurts.

Dear mom,

after hours of trying to find yakitori (within walking distance, because it was rush hour and we were afraid of trains, and taxis were too expensive) we found a place. (It actually took so long rush hour ended, so we decided to walk to the subway.) We got a block or two before we realized we were approaching a 5000￥a head place with 4000￥ in our pockets, and no banks open, and no ATMs that would take our card. So we turned around and...spent 45 minutes in a game store. :D (And saw a guy in baggy golden pants.) I saw many, many games I wanted, at least half at reduced prices, and no shipping (because I'd be buying them right in Japan). We went to an izakaya after that. There was a long wait, but the food was highly satisfying, especially for dad, who said he'd felt hungry all day. Huge potato croquettes with eggs in them, some kind of spicy pork and cabbage bowl that could have been hoi-kou-rou, genghis khan (YUP), tatsuta-age chicken, sea mackerel sashimi, umeboshi chazuke, and a salmon onigiri. It cost 2500￥ for more food than we could eat. 8D And one of the locals talked to us. (He had on golden pants...no shit.)

Dad didn't explain it this way, but he went nuts for the Japanese gardens in Shinjuku Gyoen today. And I got misty-eyed when I stood under a cherry tree in full bloom.

[Some mushy shit, and "from Robin"]

I must add to this that there were these old ladies sitting on the bench next to us at the gardens, and they were like, aren't your butts cold on the bench? So they gave us some plastic stuff to sit on. It actually made a difference. They kept giving us food, which was, like, I could not decline. I said itadakimasu, and dad didn't even know how to say that. He kept saying "ii" instead of "oishii." Cherry petals fell on us while we were eating. The sun came out.

I had a melon cream soda at the restaurant in the park. Also, I bought tickets for food at a restaurant for the first time in my life. It was fun. (I am ten years old.)

There was a girl in the game store looking at the dating sims for girls, and I was probably as pretty as her. She was shorter than me, too.

We found several "play guides" stuck to the lamppost across the street from the hotel. Pictures of beautiful women, or girls, depending on what you want. And phone numbers.

Day 3
Today we set out for Ikebukuro. Otome Road. Sunshine 60. Toshimagaoka Private School. First we had to have breakfast. There was a line at the breakfast restaurant at the hotel, so we went out for bento, and came back to the room. Room was occupied by the MAID, so we spent a half an hour looking around for a place to sit. We sat outside, in a garden, a little close to the ground for my tastes. Oh, well, we're gaijin, nobody cares what we do. Then we spent another half an hour looking for a place to throw out our trash. Then we spent another half an hour getting to the train.

Oh, yes, I had a cup of soft, creamy annin doufu because breakfast had become lunch. Christ. I can only dream about it in the US and they sell it the convenience store on the corner here.

It was after rush hour, but there were still people about in Shinjuku train station. In fact, crowds. We hemmed and hawed trying to figure out which ticket to buy and where to go with it, and we used many helpful signs to get to the platform. There were some people already waiting for a train. I must note at this point that they were in LINES. Everything was clean, there was no smell or wave of heat or hobos, and there were announcements before the train arrived. We sort of meandered over to a line and waited.

The train arrived. It had a lot of people in it. Dad and I exchanged glances, but it was not rush hour. We would be all right, we figured. We didn't know what we were doing, so we were sort of last in line to get on. By the time it was our turn, there was almost no room left. Dad stepped on. "C'mon," he said, "plenty of room." There wasn't. I hesitated.

The door closed.

Dad's stuck his hand in the door, but it wouldn't open. The train started moving. I saw his surprised face through the train window as it moved away. I think I waved and smiled, and then a uniformed station worker stepped up and oh-so-gently guided me away from the big yellow line. "My dad is on that train!" I said in Japanese. I don't know what he said. I think he didn't hear me. Or maybe he didn't care. He moved away and said something to another station worker. What did he think, I was happy my father was on the fucking train? I was alone in fucking Tokyo with no cell phone. I haven't even been alone in New York. And my father! He was alone, and he didn't speak Japanese! He had no way of contacting me! He might not even know what station to get off on! What the hell was I supposed to do? Was I supposed to wait at the train station for my father while he found his way around in the Ikebukuro station, bought another ticket without being able to read the name of the place he was going, and got on the train again? Or was I supposed to follow him on the next train, and try to find him in Ikebukuro? I had about $300 on me and a key to my room, two maps, and a bottle of jasmine tea. I could just go to Ikebukuro alone, and let him slink back to the hotel room without me...no, no. I had to find him. Another train came less than a minute after the one I missed. It was so close, I thought, I'll catch my father, and if not, I'll have them announce his name at the Ikebukuro station. Or I'll go to a police box.

It was a harrowing 15 minutes, lightened only by the appearance of a school boy in gakuran standing right in front of me, hanging onto a strap. I was surrounded by Japanese people, and they didn't care that I was alone.

I looked for my father at every station, and then I was at Ikebukuro. I watched carefully---that's a woman---that man is Japanese---that man---that man is my father. We saw each other. We waved. The train stopped so I was sitting almost right in front of him. I got off, and we hugged each other right there, in Tokyo, in Japan.

(...barf.)

We aimed for Sunshine 60, but instead we ran smack-dab into Milky Way Cafe Terrace. It was on the second floor, and we could see people inside. Let me explain that I have dreamed about eating at this place for at least two years, and I finally gave up on it because I read that people without two X chromosomes, who are not college-aged or younger, and who are not on a date with their girlfriends, would be embarrassed to enter this place. I did consider that because we are foreigners, we are exempt from this rule, but with the idea of Ice Cream City in the same district, I let it go. But we could see in the window: two old salarymen. We hovered around the plastic parfaits outside for a minute or two before I made up my mind. Fuck Ice Cream City. Fuck Namjatown. I wanted a parfait with star cookies on top.

And I had it. It was smaller than I thought, and there was fruit I didn't want in the bottom, but the top had vanilla ice cream and pumpkin cream. WTF. We took a picture.

We found Otome Road. When we got there, I walked up and down twice. I was afraid again. I was overwhelmed, in fact, completely pwned by this row of stores that I could give my money to. Which one? How much? What stuff? We picked Animate. I went nuts. I went around and found every tankoubon I wanted (except for Harukanaru Toki no Naka de), and I only paid about $300. There was an abundance of gay manga doujinshi, and drawing materials, but I didn't know what to buy, so I stuck to less flamboyant publications. We eventually got two big bags, each one probably heavier than my dog. And then, we had so much stuff to carry around, and we were so exhausted from walking and looking at things, that we left the whole damn block. We took a picture of Animate and tied together the bags with a $10 tie so dad could carry them over his shoulder, and that was my first trip to Otome Road.

We meant to go back to Watami, the restaurant from last night, but we didn't even get that far before we found another interesting one. I had mabo tofu, tsukune, and katsuo no tataki before realizing I could get them as a rice set, and by then it was too late. The mabo tofu was quite spicy. I'd say 80% of my spiciness limit, and no rice, either, so I had to leave behind a lot of that delicious sauce. Dad also had DELICIOUS fried oysters and a lemon soda that was so sour it gave me convulsions.

We went to Yodobashi Camera after that, and the two $15 PSP love sims for girls that I wanted were totally gone. Bummer, man. I bought a whole buncha other games instead, including Ar Tonelico for about $25. Interestingly enough, I didn't pick out any new JRPGs because they were expensive and I wasn't sure about them. They had Shining Force EXA, but I forget what they said in the reviews, plus you only get two characters---no thanks. And I DO remember what they said in the reviews of Dragon Shadow Spell. People had BIG problems with the part that lets you run around by yourself. Something with the controls, or not being able to see parts of puzzles. And a bunch of games by the company that made Spectral Souls...eh.

When I got back to the hotel room, I realized I hadn't fulfilled my dream of eating a mont blanc. So I took more of dad's money and bought it myself at the hotel kissaten. But that was after I picked out and bought him a set of 24 "Marron Francais" for the people at work. With nothing but money and directions to find something. BY MYSELF. IN TOKYO. (In the hotel. :P) The mont blanc was delicious, everything I wanted. The chestnut puree tasted like some kind of sweet alcohol, and the cream inside was...oh my. How can there be so many amazing desserts here and not in America? Why can't America get away from chocolate orgasm?

I took control of the TV and watched a program about a comedy combination, I believe they were TakaToshi, eating 1000 senbei in a week. There were many different senbei, some bigger than your head, some the actual size of a roof tile, and some even bigger than that. There was much suffering. Many crumbs. The one in red cried several times. The one in blue kept bopping the one in red over the head. The funniest part was when the one in red pretended to faint with his mouth hanging open, full of bits of senbei. They kept talking about how glad they were to know each other, and their future in the entertainment world. In other words, in the US, we would call them gay. They ate all 1000 in a week, breaking some jackass singular comedian's record of 824.

EDIT: I didn't mention that it was the day Toshimagaoka something school's beginning-of-school ceremony in Ikebukuro. There were plenty of girls wearing their school uniforms perfectly, with their well-dressed, wealthy-looking parents. Dad and I were enraptured. Then we discussed teenage suicide and the treatment of depression in Japan.

Day 4
The next morning, we got up way early, packed, went to Shinjuku station via cab and Tokyo station via Yamanote line, asked a station worker where to go and got on the wrong platform, ate our breakfast bento, discovered better bento at the station, asked a better station worker where to go, went to the right platform, and got on the Kodama to Atami. Cab to hotel. I handled many things in Japanese at the hotel, understood 85% of what was said to me at normal speed. We were offered dinner at two different times: 5 and 7. I picked 5 under pressure.

We didn't know our way around Atami, so we basically bummed around the hotel and drank tea in our room, which has a beautiful view. The hotel is, like, on a steep rock face, and there was one place that led outside to a narrow garden with another excellent view. There was a series of stairs and balconies connected together and twisting around the cliff, and THAT led right into another hotel's territory. We meandered until we found the parthenon with a telescope for short people. I scared my father with the dried salmon I picked out at the mostly-otsumami hotel store. It had a very strong seafoody flavor, which I rather enjoyed.

Dinner was...I will try to explain. Seven (small) courses. The serving was Japanese style, some resemblance to kaiseki, but several dishes were Western. It was really not so bad---in fact, it was fascinating.

But dinner came with entertainment.

Some kind of gaijin lounge lizards, two male and two female. The quality of the singing was quite nice, but their choice of songs was---here is where I must say indescribable. One of them was that Titanic song. Another one was a samba, and yes, they had costumes for that. Maracas. Dad and I alternated between laughter and more laughter. I think they thought we liked it. What are you doing singing to Japanese people in freaking Atami? At some point, Dad looked at me and said he hoped I got back in time to see my anime. It was then that I realized Kamichama Karin aired at 5.

We went to the baths almost directly after dinner. I never really completely got over being naked in front of other people, but nobody said anything about how big my bush or boobs were. In fact, people mostly ignored me. There were a couple of mothers with young boys in there. They were under 12, but I'm frankly not okay being naked around anything with a penis older than 5. There was one who looked like 9. Go away. Also, the women there seemed to be having a contest to see how long they could wash themselves. THEY. TOOK. FOREVER. Dad said in his bath there was only one guy going in, and he just sort of slapped on some soap, rinsed, and got in. I did wash what I could and shampooed my hair, but I wanted to get into the bath.

I realized while I was washing that I was indoors, and there was nothing special about the bath. I had been looking for the outdoor rose bath. But I couldn't just get up and leave, so I continued washing myself, and actually got into the indoor bath. Holy shit, was it hot. I read a sign that the source of the water was 50 degrees Celsius. Holy shit. I stayed in for a few minutes, and then I couldn't stand it any more. I went out to the changing room---and saw the door for the rose bath. Oh. In the rose bath, there were four bathtubs. Three were big enough for one or two people, and one was big enough for several more. The small tubs were scented with herbs like rosemary and lavender. The big tub had roses floating around in it. I got to go in that one first, with nobody else in it. Whoa, man. It was still 50 degrees, though. I couldn't stay in long, so I went in the lavender tub. Then back in the rose bath. Then back into the normal indoor tub to sit in the cold bath. Then back to the lavender tub. Then the rosemary bath. Then the rose bath. At some point I noticed I was dizzy when I got out of the hot water---and when I got out of the cold water, my legs actually felt like jelly. Not tired, like jelly.

The last thing we did was visit "Akao Yokochou." This was a nostalgic food court that opened at at night. I insisted we go to the sweets shop, and I got a melon cream soda. But that's not all. The old lady noticed that dad wasn't having anything, so she gave him a little cup of soft ice cream to eat. It tasted of eggs and butter. Said my father: "It's the best I've ever eaten." (And he originally wanted Haagen-Dazs out of a vending machine.) The old lady was informed of this. She asked us if we were going to see the mochi pounding---the mochi pounding? Yeah, less than a hundred feet away, they were pounding mochi. She told us to TAKE OUR GLASSES AND SPOONS and go see it. And we did. They had all these little kids lined up, and they were letting them hit the mochi with this big wooden hammer they could barely lift. We watched, and afterwards, they served mochi with kinako to the audience. I had some, and...I didn't know mochi was like that. It was incredibly sticky and thick, but when you bit into, it somehow gave the most delicious smooth resistance. It was in no way gooey, slimy, or crunchy. I see how the Japanese love things for their textures, if this is what they start with. After we were done watching, we went to take our stuff back to the old lady at the sweets shop, and ONLY THEN did we remember---we'd had all that fun without paying her a cent. When it became clear we had forgotten completely...she apologized. For taking five dollars from us. And giving us soft ice cream we will remember all our lives. And the chance to see them pound mochi. AHHHH. AHHHHHHHHH. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. *horror* I would have paid her double if I thought it might not have been a terrible insult.

At some point I lost my chap stick. Maybe I'll have to pick one that SAYS it has menthol in it this time. What if it's stronger menthol?

I didn't fit it in here, but I left my PSP charger in Tokyo. This required a phone call to the hotel from Atami, and guess who had to help out Dad? I told them our address, but not the name to send it to. I hope it makes it home.

Day 5
My lips are starting to heal. Found my chap stick.

Breakfast today was good. Buffet with the option of Japanese breakfast. I got a cup of nattou and showed it to Dad, but only ate a single bean. (Wuss.) It was rather difficult getting it into my mouth with the strings going everywhere.

The main thing that happened with the train today was we got on the wrong one. We meant to get on the Kodama and we got on the Hikari. It only took twenty minutes before the Hikari got to a place where Kodama would also stop directly afterwards, so we got to stand in between cars. In this time, we saw Mt. Fuji. It was. So. Big. Homina homina. When we were getting on the Kodama, Dad INSISTED we check the number of the train so we didn't get into the wrong one. This task, of course, fell to me, and I had to ask two people what number the goddamn train was. The first guy was some janitor, and he was like, blah blah, you don't want to go on the Kodama, you wanna go on the Hikari, oh, go see a station worker, I dunno. FUCK YOU. And the station worker took his sweet time taking his schedule out. We got on the train during the last warning that it would leave.

Also, we bought bento on the train and ate them there. UH-HUH.

The hotel here is about a minute away from the train station, which really means we can hear the trains from our window. And we have a wonderful view of a parking lot with a third of the pavement peeled off. The bathroom is smaller, the air conditioning doesn't work, and the TV isn't a flat screen. :( And I don't have an office ant farm or the ocean to look at. ...we can see Touji, though.

We ate dinner at this mall across the street. It's just a collection of restaurants with a BIG souvenir store on the end. I had a green tea donut at Mister Donut, and I saw various sesame seed donuts, too---are these Kyoto only? And a bite of dad's French cruller, which was dipped in chocolate and filled with greasy whipped cream. Jesus. The hotel cake store doesn't have mont blancs, so maybe I'll stay away from it, unless maybe I want that green tea thing after all. Saw a green tea parfait in the mall, too.

Just before I got dinner, I was starting to feel dizzy. There are times where I feel dizzy, and it's like I can't see anything and everything is moving. This was different, more subtle. I'd forget where I was and feel like I was falling backwards for a split second. I think I'm getting tired.

Day I forget
Uhhh. It's been a few days. I'm in California right now.

Day 6
I think the day after the last entry, we visited Kiyomizudera. This involved learning more about Kyoto station and the bus system that covers the city. Basically we waited in line and ran around like crazy for up to two hours. And then we had to climb the hill to the temple, and it was absolutely opaque, first with cars, then with people and souvenir shops. As we were climbing the stairs into the shrine, dad noticed the very fancy red gold and green gates. Said he: "I wanted to go to the really rustic quiet ones." You mean the Shinto shrines? "Yeah." BUT YOU SAID A BUDDHIST TEMPLE WITH LOTS OF DECORATION BEFORE. "Oh...well...I guess I changed my mind." *bangs head on keyboard*

We blew at least an hour without even going into the real temple, taking lots of pictures, going to the bathroom (my first Japanese style one...hoo boy), and getting omikuji. Dad got 末吉 and I got...凶. I couldn't understand the description but I think it said I will die in 8 or 9 years. Umm. Then they had this rack, you know, where you fold up your fortune and tie it on. I was just trying to tug it a little tighter and...about a quarter of the paper ripped right off. ... What...does this mean? (It means they want you to either spend more money buying another omikuji, or spend more money trying to pray your bad luck away.) Then we found a map underneath some sakura and around some very pretty buildings, so while I hemmed and hawed trying to figure out where hondou, and the viewing deck, was, dad took pictures of everything. We couldn't figure out where we were, but we were right next to a place where people were standing in line for tickets. We thought, might as well, so we shelled out 600￥ to get into the next place.

First we got in line. We went under a little gate, talking about expressing our rage at having to pay 600￥ by making animal noises where people were praying. We washed our hands out of a pretty fountain with those ladles, and went inside with our hands still wet. There was a long hallway, and then one of many places I saw where you throw in your money through the slots. There was also a display of two huge iron staves and iron shoes, probably used by monks for training (or used to trick visitors). They were set up so you could grab them and try to lift them up. I was able to pick up the smaller staff...barely...but the bigger one was out of reach for Dad and me (and everyone else there).

Moving around the building, there was yet another good luck charm seller. But this one had little...cell phone straps. They were quarter-sized hollow balls made out of metal sakura flowers and painted pink and white. A little bell rolled around in every one. I bought one, and it says on the bag that you should keep it with you as much as possible for a year. If, by the year ends, you still have it, you're supposed to come back to Kiyomizudera to give thanks for a year of protection. Yet another marketing ploy. After that was another place to pray that opened onto a big viewing deck, where you could see lots of trees, including sakura in full bloom.

Now, my father really likes Buddhism, so although he's not a believer, he's interested in what they're doing. He wanted to pray and breathe the holy incense, and we did both. First, to pray, we took off our shoes and waited in line in our socks, looking for change to throw into the slotted box thing. The protocol was this: kneel, clear your mind, strike a bell with a provided stick, stand up, throw in money, kneel in a different place, and pray for a moment. My father, well. He didn't know how hard to hit the bell. Out of about 10-15 people I saw praying, he got the biggest sound out of it. It was loud. Me, I just sort of tapped it (while it was still vibrating from Dad's go) and I got JUST the right volume. Then I threw in my money (23 cents, all my change) and wished to return to Japan. We stood around the holy incense for a bit, too, trying to breathe it or catch it in our hands.

Somewhere around this time, the camera ran out of batteries. We didn't know it, but we had just passed the famous viewing deck in hondou without looking out from it and were moving on to another, equally crowded one. I waited in the crowd until I could get to the railing, and then stood and looked out at Kyoto in the distance. And the cherry blossoms nearby. There was some pushing, and little space, but it was so civilized somehow. Maybe people were giving me space because I'm a foreigner.

After that there was a long, slightly quieter path that followed some trees that, uh, had no leaves. I got the idea somewhere that they were supposed to be sakura, but, uh, they were most certainly not. But below the path? Blooming sakura from above. Pink. Everywhere. Everything in the temple complex was so heartbreakingly beautiful. Even the air was the most delicious and sweet I had ever breathed. My feet had been tired for ages, and the camera was out of juice, but I was having fun, and so was Dad. I started laughing. I moved to the railing, where I could look out over the sakura, and turned my back to the people that were following that path. I started crying.

(...heh. You just thought "FAG," right? That's what I'm thinking while I write this. How silly is that? It's only the most wonderful vacation I have had in my entire life 8D)

After that we thought we might leave, but then we saw signs for Otowa waterfall. So we did that, too. We got in another long line, bought two plastic commemorative cups to drink out of (optional, dad's idea), and took water from the waterfall. It...really...I think my tastebuds are numb from all the curry. It didn't taste like anything. Maybe that's because it was really pure? I didn't feel any healing properties, but it was pleasant enough, and free. And we saw a butterfly while we were standing in line.

And then we decided we'd seen just about everything, so it was time to leave. We stopped for a bit on a bench for more tree-viewing, and we saw some Japanese birdies Dad couldn't identify flying around and eating things. And we stopped to give money to a pilgrim that was standing there praying. Dad was deeply impressed, but I wondered if maybe he was some guy who just dressed up to get the money.

On the way down, we made use of the souvenir stores. I got more wagashi in a pretty box and two bags of pretty konpeitou, and dad got a tenugui in a blue and white pattern he really liked. We also had ice cream at two different places. Dad said he wanted ice cream first, so we stopped in at one crowded place and bought him vanilla soft cream. Somewhere after the halfway point on the hill, when most of the crowds had become cars instead, we found another ice cream place. We stopped to look because I noticed they had annin ice cream there, though I quickly abandoned it when I discovered it had mango and pineapple in it. As I was floundering around looking for another flavor, I saw it:

Sakura-flavored ice cream.

Actually, it's just a really delicate, sweet cherry flavor. But you absolutely cannot get it in America. I have dreamed about sakura-flavored sweets ever since I learned about them. And here I was in Japan, at an ice cream shop with sakura soft ice cream. I gave a bite to dad, and devoured the whole thing. Gochisousama deshita.

We were not yet done with that day, though. We were running out of money. That night, after dinner at a skewer/tonkatsu place, we got on the subway this time and went to the Karasuma-Shijo area to wander. We were looking for a Citibank, the only bank we knew would take Dad's debit card. I'll be darned if we didn't find it after at least half an hour of walking around and asking directions from three different people. I'll be darned if we didn't find the fucking bank right where the map said it would be. We missed it the first five times because there wasn't a sign for it up on the side of the building, just a sign over the doorway and a little sign on the ground. And then when we got back, we had to fire up the computer for information on the Shinkansen to Osaka. Because, you see, we had confirmed that our plane left from Osaka, but our train tickets took us back to Tokyo. Thank you, United Airlines, for your excellent scheduling abilities. We found out that we could refund our tickets for up to 70% of their price, and that the Nozomi to Osaka cost around 1300￥, which was definitely in range if we had to take it. But we also sent a great big WHAT THE FUCK e-mail (well, more polite) to the tour people. I went to bed at that point.

Day 7
The next morning Dad had an e-mail that said there was a shuttle that would take us to the airport. We ate breakfast in peace: matcha anmitsu for me, and a breakfast set for Dad. He said the coffee was the best he ever had. Wow. They had a few magazines in that particular kissaten, so I grabbed one for Dad about Japan's female porn stars, and we laughed about it. Oh, Japan. And then we went to Mister Donut for the third or fourth time, to get donuts to take back to the room. It was my last green tea donut.

On the way to the airport, we met a very nice Japanese lady who knew lots of English, who was looking to learn more by reading the kind of manga that shows both the Japanese and the English. I couldn't suggest any, but the boy she had with her suggested Bleach and Naruto. ...heh. We chit-chatted in both English and Japanese. She said I could totally get a job in Japan with my skillz.

This is where I left off on the laptop.

We met the same lady in the line for United Airlines economy class, and we talked some more. She suggested some colleges for learning Japanese. Columbia University, Harvard, and something else. Maybe it was in Maryland. I don't think I could get into any of them, unless I spoke Japanese to them and they liked it.

After we checked in, we ate at the airport Starbucks. I had black pepper potato chips, which were much better than the sakura macaroon I also had. And we took our pictures in a Hello Kitty picture machine, you know, the kind that makes stickers. It was the first print club-type machine I saw in Japan, or maybe I didn't know how to pick them out. ...it was then that we discovered that Dad's watch was 20 minutes slow. We were late for check-in at the gate. When we got there, there was a huge line to get on the plane. The girls at the desk said we scared the bajeezus out of them because we came so late. But as a result, we got two seats together, next to a window, in the economy plus section.

The plane ride to an Francisco was uneventful. I watched three movies, discovered my PSP had scratches on its face from riding around naked in my pocketbook all week. Dad passed out and slept at least half of the way there. I was hungry, but my lips didn't chap and my nose didn't clog.

The horror started when we got to San Francisco. Customs was easy, took less than 5 minutes, and it only took that long because the person who did us was a trainee. This was after I made several jokes about "through your pants" (see also: Penny Arcade).

But our flight to Boston was canceled due to mechanical problems. We were asked to reschedule our flight. We were put in a line that wasn't too long...unless you considered how slow it was moving. Really slow. Because people had to reschedule their flights and make new plans. Well, it didn't take my Dad and me so long, but I think one woman was there for upwards of 45 minutes, and she had kids, and nobody to help her. Land of the free. The earliest direct flight was at 11 AM the next day---what choice did we have? This clerk also said we could check our baggage early so that we would be guaranteed a seat on the plane. Dad wanted to do it, and that meant, you know, parting with everything I couldn't carry with me overnight. We were allowed to get out of line and pick out some things to take with us. When we got back in line, we got a different clerk, and she said we couldn't check our bags until tomorrow. Huh? They finally gave us some hotel and meal vouchers and ejected us from the airport.

The hotel was a Red Roof Inn, more of a motel. The rooms opened right onto the outdoors, and they were small. And ugly. To celebrate my homecoming, I ate a 1/3 lb burger with mushrooms, cheese, and bacon on it. All of it. With french fries. And then I slept four hours. And then I ate almost an entire Domino's pizza while watching Crayon Shin-chan. And then I slept another 5 hours.

I was really glad to get out of that room.

The United terminal was a mess, really crowded. We tried to check in with a computer, the only thing available, but we almost couldn't. It wouldn't take our passport, credit card, frequent flier numbers, nothing. And the staff wouldn't pay attention to us unless we had our baggage tags printed out. Dad poked it and eventually it asked us about the correct flight. When it printed out our tags, the one guy who was managing the economy counter took them and stuck them to the counter, getting ready to put them on our bags. I took one, thinking I would help by putting it on, and the jackass told me not to. I actually couldn't even understand what he was saying because he had such an accent. I did not say sorry when I put the sticker back. In fact, I said to myself, "fuck you up the ass" as I was walking away and was overheard by a 7-year-old girl. She glared at me. I gave her my best look.

The security line was moving, but long, and it had one guy bellowing directions at us. All belts to come off. All shoes to come off. No beverages. Take out your laptops. Blah blah. It made me miss Japan.

Hmm. The only other thing worth mentioning is that once we got to the gate, we had some time, so I went to get some breakfast. I picked Chinese, and I ordered fried rice. I paid $15. Why? Because they gave me almost FIVE POUNDS of the stuff. Jesus Christ. The plane ride to Boston was again uneventful, though for some reason the line to the bathroom was long. I heard the flight attendants talking in the back: one said that he likes to walk up the plane as the movie they show ends, and see who's crying.

I started crying when I hugged mom at home. When she showed that she got me Easter candy and pink tulips, I started bawling. She had made us meatballs and spaghetti, one of my few favorite homemade foods, for dinner. (That made me cry when I heard about it, too, though that was earlier in the trip.) My dog was the same: she still licks the carpet and barks when we don't want her to.

I didn't learn anything from this trip, except for one thing: if you see a game you want and it only costs $15 when it costs more like $50 at home, forget about dinner, just buy that thing.