Brazil Dispatch 5

November 29, 2006

It felt very good to get back to Natal, even if it was just back to our hotel. We sure don't miss all the packing and unpacking every few days. Even so, we got kicked out of our wonderful hotel Sunday because we had such a good long-term rate, and they had filled it with an arriving Norwegian group paying full price. The lovely, generous manager called up her friend down the block and negotiated almost as good a deal at another hotel, but we find that the internet here only allows for one of us to be connected at a time.

Fidel, the owner of the house we're buying, only just returned from his (successful) surgery in Argentina. He is having his furniture shipped out next Tuesday, December 5th, so we will move in then, even though the paper work won't be completed till mid-December. We have begun looking at mattresses!

After some frustrating shopping for household goods here, we realized that the expense to buy everything plus the expense to store all of our stuff in New York doesn't add up. We have decided to ship most of our things here. (Unfortunately, we sold all the beds.) We will stop over in New York late January or early February when Newt has a business trip to California and I visit my Mother in Tulsa. Whirlwind shopping for needed items will precede getting our things packed off. I am working on estimates for this now, and I imagine that container shipment will be a whole story! Our furniture will probably arrive by mid-March, so we will have both a house and chairs more than six months after arriving here!

We were finally successful in getting a bank account in Brazil on the fifth try. The magic solution: we bought health insurance, and that company was willing to use our hotel address on the registration, and the bank was willing to accept the health insurance registration as proof of our address. As an aside, we discovered that we didn't actually have health insurance after all, because our certificate of marriage says "Sandra Jean Needham," and my passport, Brazilian CPF (like a social security #), and resident alien registration all say "Sandra Needham." The bank opened our account based on a form that is now moot with an address that is now incorrect (our secret!). The insurance agent returned to our hotel and started the whole process over again, now using my full name. I can just imagine myself lying in a ditch awaiting medical attention and being denied it because my driver's license, passport and Brazilian documents don't say "Jean."

We also thought we had car insurance, but discovered upon our return from Europe that installments could not be paid on a foreign credit card. Now we're trying to pay in full on our credit card, but have no word yet if that has kicked in. We are trying to drive very carefully in the meantime!

After two weeks waiting to receive his CPF card being forwarded from our hotel in Fortaleza, Newton was told that it was still in the backpack of the guy who had been dispatched to take mail to the P.O. Now that another week has passed, he heard today that it will go out tomorrow! When Newt's new dentist sent him to another location for x-rays, it was only after a series of photographs, x-rays, two different space-age contraptions rotating about the head, and mention of the upcoming mold to be taken of his teeth that he asked the question, "For a root canal?" The place specializes in orthodontia and the receptionist hadn't read the dentist's instructions!

To transfer money from our New York bank to be converted into reais requires a form that is typed and signed by Newton authorizing money to be wired to a specific bank account. We sent a stack of signed forms to our bank in Pomona, NY via "Sedex," the FedEx of Brazil (part of the post office system here). Because Pomona, NY must already be listed in the Brazilian system online in order to fill out the mailing form and it was not (as no one as yet had ever sent a Sedex to Pomona from Brazil), and because hand writing or typing the Sedex form is out of the question, the woman waiting on us had to call Brasilia to have Pomona, NY added to the system while we waited. As soon as it showed up on her screen, she could complete the form! It took 39 minutes and $38 to mail this envelope. That was Friday, this is Wednesday, and tracking still shows it in São Paulo.

To counter the frustrations of both the bureaucracy and the relaxed pace here - perfect partners - and for our own 'third world relaxed pace training' we rely on a visit to the beach for whole grilled fish, beer, the aqua ocean and great people-watching. It always works! I am convinced after people-watching here and on all those trains, subways and sidewalks on our trip that you can find a counterpart to most everyone you know in any given country. I found the perfect Japanese version of my Aunt Ruth, for example, on the train in Tokyo, and the Brazilian version of our friend Joe Cerruto sold us our car!

One more week in a hotel...

Love,
Sandy

Montpellier/Paris Dispatch

November 23, 2006

Just a footnote regarding the one night Newton and his partners and I stayed at the Radisson Hotel by Stansted Airport in London. In the 4-story atrium in the center of the hotel stood a large square glass column with an interior column lit with colored lights, looking like the giant insides of a computer. We did not know that this was a tall, 4-sided wine rack until we realized that the blond in a leotard on a bungee cord inside the glass was retrieving bottles as she moved acrobatically up and down, sometimes upside down, on her cord. Cirque du Soleil meets happy hour! Watch:


We caught the last of our budget flights to Montpellier on the Mediterranean coast of France. This airline, Ryan Air, actually charged us to check our bags! I must say, all these economical little flights we took were on time except for the one that had mechanical problems, in which case we were rolling away from the terminal in a different plane one hour later. Some lessons for the big carriers, or unusually good luck?

I passed a lovely Sunday morning street market in the center of a boulevard as I was whisked to our Montpellier hotel by the boyfriend of the partner-company's owner (this was just a one-day meeting on a Sunday). I found my way back to the market on foot, enjoying the feel of the sleepy neighborhood on a Sunday morning. The market provided me with a circle of fresh goat cheese for breakfast, which I ate while listening to a young woman with a sax and two young men with guitars playing snappy Django Rheinhardt gypsy-jazz. Several children shared my enthusiasm for the group, and gladly placed my euro-change in the hat. I was fascinated to watch a very aggressive salesman feeding bites of persimmon to a gathering entourage of women. The faded orange color suggested to me the bitter, furry taste before that red stage which renders persimmons my favorite fruit in Brazil, hence a pinched up face among the curious.

I joined the business group for a true Sunday afternoon French lunch at a lovely, typical restaurant by the shore. It lasted four hours, and one could learn the art, observing the natives there, of eating as an end, not a means. The cast of characters at lunch was really something, and only more exaggerated later at dinner when we were missing the seemingly well-adjusted young engineers that had joined us for lunch. There was the snobby Brit who wouldn’t speak to most of us; his French Vietnamese boyfriend who exhausted everyone except the adoring Brit with his pursed-lip impersonation of himself. The smart German bachelor engineer arrived in his red Corvette with his Russian girlfriend in tow (who does not speak French or English). We all tried not to stare at the clearly anorexic, E.T.-looking face (mostly only eyes left), the emaciated shoulders and arms on this woman, who was exhibitionistic about eating mostly lettuce both meals. I don't even want to ponder the ambiguities this suggests about the Corvette. The foie gras still managed to stand out!

We all walked and walked through the glorious old center of the city before and after dinner, then said our good-bys. Newton and I were catching the TGV (bullet train) to Paris the next morning.

After an afternoon of wandering around the left bank of Paris, we met our dear Manhattan friends, Dick and Nancy Taylor, and their big fluffy white Samoyed, Troisieme, at the apartment they are swapping in Saint Germain. This is another of many stints in the neighborhood, where they also lived for eight years. We had a fairy tale dinner at an exquisite art nouveau restaurant. Troisieme was casually welcomed there! Dick and Nancy are the actual travelers of the globe, and I mean the desert, African tribes, and freezing tents in Ladakh, from which Nancy had just returned. The evening was way too short, and we were flying 'home' to Brazil the next day, so we look forward to a continuation of all those trains of thought!

Our 11th and 12th flights of this trip took us to Lisbon, then Natal. Whew.

Love,
Sandy

Athens Dispatch

November 21, 2006

When it's November and the weather is 73 degrees and sunny in Athens (and it was freezing there the prior weekend), you feel like you're really getting away with something: seeing Athens at its best with fewer tourists, perhaps? Our approaching airplane offered gorgeous views already, but no Acropolis on our side of the plane. Our hotel room was pretty high up in one of the few tall buildings in the city, but our view did not include the Acropolis. I caught a subway, changed trains, and emerged from the station, my heart stopping: there it was! I last saw the Acropolis at age 17, when one could wander around the Parthenon and catch views of the building that revealed its unfathomable grace - feeling light and rooted all at once. But the side I could see from the station was not the Parthenon side. I started up, loving the low, white sprawl of Athens below, embraced by the three hills and the sea.

I felt some disappointment upon arriving at the Parthenon because they are restoring it and have one side and one end covered with scaffolding. I am also convinced that the ancients knew more about beauty than we know today (as a young native physicist later agreed). I suspect that those miraculous columns, after the patching and re-stacking, may not breathe again as they did in the 5th century BC. Most of the fragile statues, bas reliefs and caryatids have been replaced by copies, while the remaining originals are on display in the museum next to the Parthenon. Inside, I walked among the early kore and kouros figures with their sweet smiles; among the robust, writhing later Hellenistic figures, but my heart stopped once more when I beheld the classical torsos from the Parthenon frieze. The mathematical perfection of nature is all there in the subtle torque of diaphanous drapery over breathing marble flesh, in proportions that define timelessness. It was almost too much beauty to contain.

I considered the day a perfect gem, and did not try to surpass it with sightseeing the next day. Instead, Newt got me all situated at the hotel lobby computer to do some dispatch writing. He said he would hook up with his pre-paid internet card that evening when he came back and e-mail the dispatch. I spent 1 hour and 45 minutes writing, and then tried to log off so that the file was not just sitting there available to the next person. Because I know so little about these things, I requested help for this. A young whippersnapper came over and said it was not possible to save anything on these computers, as the sign says, and immediately pushed the button to turn the computer off. He was not being mean; he just didn't understand my confusion. I could have hooked up quickly with Newton's special password and e-mailed the work with his help, but he thought I wanted to remove it and happened to be a bit hasty. I wanted to cry, because every word was lost. I went up to our room and spent the next hour trying to recall as much as possible in longhand. Then I went to a beautiful plaza for an outdoor lunch, even though the day was greyer and chillier than the previous one.

Athens has a beautiful subway system, complete with translation in Roman letters, as a part of the improvements made for the 2004 Olympics. I tried in vain to come up with the pronunciations by applying my limited acquaintance with the Greek alphabet, but later learned that there are several combinations that can make one sound. Verbally, I stuck to the "kalispero" - 'good evening' - that I had learned at 17.

We had the double pleasure of two nights out with the natives - a group of young, sharp, adorable Greek geeks who comprise a great partner company. The first night was a rowdier, more casual place with many plates of everything Greek and delicious wine. The second night we went to a restaurant on top of one of the other two hills in Athens, to which you must take a cable car. One would expect such a place to be hopelessly touristy, which means there is no obligation to have great food, but this place, with its glass-surrounded views of the Acropolis and the city, was entertaining some government ministers and other wealthy locals besides our techy group. The meal was elegant and sumptuous, the company ideal.

The next day Newton, his two partners and I were off for one night at a Stansted Airport hotel in London for another cheap flight connection to Montpellier, France the next day.

Love,
Sandy

Krakow Dispatch

November 18, 2006

The windows on the van were steamed up on a rainy night as we drove from Krakow airport to the Polish town of Gliwice, where a partner company operates. I could not form much of an impression, except that our modern hotel was extremely nice, and dinner in a typical Polish pub featured "cheese of a rich shepherd!" The hotel breakfast was the most elaborate of the entire trip. When I emerged to shop the next day for desperate boots, the town was rather forlorn and grey. I found the shopping adequate; the people rather distant (can be a blessing when shopping!). Interestingly enough, I found Polish faces the most similar to each other of all the places we'd been, and continually had to confirm that I had not walked into the same shop twice! A sea of consonants that are not pronounced the way they look typify the language, and I found, again, that my mouth wouldn't wrap itself around even 'thank you' in Polish. Most clerks and I could function with a word or two of English.

We had the usual highlight: dinner out with the natives from the company in a beautiful old hotel. The owner of the company is a dignified and elegant Pole - who actually kisses my hand! He is very proud of his country and very astute regarding European history. His wife, Eva, was commandeered to take me to Krakow the next day - I imagine against her will and at an inconvenient time - but she was wonderful about it.

Eva picked me up midday and we drove the hour to Krakow with relatively little conversation. Her English is limited, but she is very smart and interesting. She explained that we were meeting up with their daughter, who studies law in Krakow, and then going to a salt mine. We had lunch in a very typical Polish restaurant, and I believe I shall never forget the sauerkraut soup with a small pork rib in it - so divine! She forced me to stand in front of the little mill wheel, then the mantle, then the little typical chairs for photos, which made me yearn to see Krakow by myself, but it all turned out to be well worth the crazy photo aspect. When it looked like we were going to run out of time to make it to the salt mine, I wanted to say it was all right with me to skip the salt mine. After stopping for a couple of photos of her daughter and me, we were all sprinting down the street on our full stomachs to catch the last bus to the salt mine.

Well, the salt mine is just unbelievable! It is outside Krakow in Wieliczka. Mining began there in the middle ages and lasted until 1996, but a 'tourist route' was laid out at the end of the 18th century. This route is only a fraction of the miles of tunnels going down into the earth. We walked down 800 stairs to go 400 meters deep, and then shot back up like rockets in an elevator at the end. The air is kept at an even, comfortably cool temperature at all times, and the well-lit, spacious passageways and gigantic chambers preclude claustrophobia. The crux of the matter is that miners have hand-dug (and later dynamited) these chambers and sculpted the salt into chapels (for praying that you wouldn't die each day from methane explosions or mine collapse) and even a huge cathedral with salt architecture, statuary, bas relief, and chandeliers (out of crystal salt). The baby Jesus is sculpted out of a special pink salt! Most of the sculptured salt is a grey color, and has taken on a finish over the years very much like marble. The work is magnificent, especially in the cathedral, which was carved by three miners over 80 years. The other crux of the matter is that as you move down through the mine, the history of Poland travels with you. Copernicus was here; Goethe was here (besides a poet, he was the director of the mining commission in Germany). There is even a chamber with a stocky, muscular Soviet sculpture. Some chambers have salt lakes with the salt concentration of the Dead Sea. These render the air very pure and healing, hence the existence of the allergy/asthma clinic there for two-week underground cures. There are huge spaces for concerts and weddings, as well. I must say, who knew? I just loved the tour, and there are about 100 photos of me standing in front of nearly everything!

We spent the rest of the evening seeing the beautiful old city of Krakow. The university where Eva also studied law is 640 years old; the huge town square is alive with students (Krakow is like Boston, student-wise), the imposing Mariacki Cathedral with its two distinctive towers, and the old guild hall; finally, the most endlessly gigantic round castle imaginable overlooks all from a fortress hill.

Up at 4:00 the next morning to fly to Athens!

Love,
Sandy

London Dispatch

November 16, 2006

Our flight from Tokyo to London was "allowed by the Russians" to fly the shorter route over the Artic Circle. The ground was visible nearly the entire way over China, Siberia, and the Artic Circle - in early evening moonlight! There were mountains, lakes, rivers, all in white, and even a small, lit up settlement. The vision of ths frozen world was one of the most magical of our entire trip!

We had our most expensive, smallest and dirtiest hotel room in London. The disenchantment stopped there, as we found the city absolutely vital and thriving. I believe the tremendous influx of diversity has stirred up the British city marvelously since I was last here at age 17.

By accident, while trying to locate the place we found on the internet that sells the toothpaste we like, we discovered a great neighborhood nearby full of fantastic shops and restaurants of every imaginable cuisine (Marylebone High Street, near Marble Arch and Bond Street). We had lunch there with my grandniece, Mary Tarpley, who is continuing her serious ballet studies from Interlochen Performing Arts High School at Marie Rampert's school here.

After much wandering around and scarf shopping in the chilly wind, we grabbed our chance to see Martin Scorcese's "The Departed." We forgot about the new law which closes down the restaurants and bars at 11:30pm, about the time we emerged from the film hungry and thirsty. We found out that if we walked from Marble Arch through Piccadilly to Soho, there was a restaurant that stayed open till 3:00am. Once again representing the older generation, we had a very hip late-night dinner and walked all the way back (about 2 miles) at 3:00am.

We were pretty whipped Sunday morning - a combination of jet-lag and general fatigue. We dragged ourselves to Victoria Station and caught the #11 bus, which takes you past Westminster Abbey and St. Paul's. Once we were front and center on the top deck of the bus, we were too lazy to move, so rode back and forth, missing our stop to return for our bags. Eventually we made it to our friends' house in Chiswick. Roch and Christine Pellerin and their four beautiful children are longtime friends from Manhattan days. We attended their heavenly French wedding in 1990, and loved this reunion with them.

The next phase of our trip began the next morning when we met two of Newton's business partner-owners at the airport for one of several cheap flights on these new airlines that take you all over Europe for practically nothing. The four of us flew to Krakow for around $25 each.

Poland coming up!

Love,
Sandy

Seoul Dispatch

November 15, 2006

Arriving at night and driving past bridge after bridge lit up along the Han River in the middle of gigantic, lit up Seoul was encouraging. Full disclosure: I am very biased towards Japan. Our Seoul hotel was very nice. I can truly attest to the quality of the toilet paper being superior to that of Japan!

I was determined to get on that river in the pleasant, though hazy weather the next day, so took off to catch the ferry. I noticed on the way that there was literally block after block of high rises, all in the same mid-stage of construction. I later learned that this is typical all over Seoul, it is growing so fast. The ferry ride was fine, if uneventful, save for the rather slick, oily character who tried to flirt with me by taking my picture with his cell phone. I did not have a pleasant expression. My lack of enthusiasm paid off, and he slunk away and didn't come back.

I walked past a neighborhood of side streets, all bursting with an outdoor food market. It was the most vivid I have ever seen, with an amazing variety of seafood (from live to dried), huge baskets of hot red peppers (so that the kimchi cabbage can set you on fire), endless vats of various kimchi, a stunning assortment of grains and beans, bins of neatly bundled greens and scallions, meat shops - mostly pork, and the wondrous cast of characters to go with it all.

I visited Seoul's traditional village, which was just begging comparison since I had just visited the equivalent in Japan. As lovely as it was, it was a rougher version, particularly with details such as the use of linoleum to mimic the patterns of wood in a typical traditional floor (they don't use tatami mats). The sheer care and fine materials that define the Japanese tradition is a hard act to follow for most any culture. It was a warm, sunny day at the village and the school children were there in droves, so I was happy. The children around age 12 liked to approach me and try out their English. I was flummoxed when trying to repeat their names. The Korean language is much more like Chinese than the easy syllabics of Japanese, so I failed to master even "thank you" here.

I'm sure you are asking, "What about decaf?" When I ordered decaf espresso at the Starbucks, they said they were not allowed to import decaffeinated coffee to Korea.

The highlight, as usual, was our dinner out with the distributors, John and Jimmy. We had a typical Korean meal, the burning hot spicy aspect perfect for me and the thin slices of beef and pork barbecued in the middle of the table and folded up in lettuce leaves, perfect for Newton. Beer is necessary with this food.

The best Korean pub name: O'Kim's Brauhaus.

In general, the culture is just rougher around the edges than that of Japan. It appears that the Koreans are also looser about all that conformity, thankfully.

We flew back to Tokyo for our flight to London and stayed near the airport in the town of Narita. Even though we were inundated with Asian food, we had not exhausted our love of gyozas - sautéed dumplings with pork and veggies inside - so we were happy to end our stay with more of those. (You can see that waiting to get hungry again is the only deterrent Newton and I experience in a travel agenda!)

Europe next -

Love,
Sandy

Osaka Dispatch

November 11, 2006

We caught the shinkansen "bullet train" to Osaka. Unfortunately, it was too cloudy to see Mount Fuji, so I never had a glimpse of it's magnificence this trip. Newton's company (5 partners and several partner companies with compatible products) has distributors in both Yokohama and Osaka. I cannot really describe what Newton's company does. Software for chips for boards for electronic design is as far as I get.

Newt and I had a Saturday in sublime Kyoto. The weather was beautiful, so we shared the trek to the Golden Pavilion and Ryoan-ji Temple with hundreds of mostly Japanese tourists. The green sculpted trees and perfect composition of lily pads on the ponds were the ideal respite from the big city. There was plenty of bustle and noise at Rioan-ji - the famous Zen rock garden with raked gravel - but I recalled with deep joy a quiet day 19 years ago when I sat on the viewing steps with my father, observing the serenity and the ancient profundity of the place. Another contrast this trip, the new modern Kyoto train station, which provided a startlingly futuristic, "Matrix"-like ride up the escalator, seemingly to the top of the universe!

Osaka has its own vision of the old and the new. But I must say, the highlight for me was the evening out with the distributors. We had gone out with them in New York several times, so this reunion was just plain fun. We had a yakitori dinner(chicken kabobs - small skewers of various parts of the chicken, including cartilage and gizzards - we stuck to breast) in a typical 'working man's' train station restaurant. There is no 'no smoking' section and the beer flows mightily. I was accustomed to being one of about three females in such a place, and I don't know whether to be proud or appalled that I could keep up just fine with the tall draft beer. You don't count beer or other items with the usual ichi, ni, san...in Japanese. One draught beer is "nama biro hitotsu," two is "nama biro futatsu," etc. Beer in bottles has a different system, one being "biro nippon," etc. I find it interesting that Nippon is the word for 'Japan' in Japanese. I'm sure there is an explanation. After dinner Takeshi, the shy, retiring distributor, and Kevin (his Japanese name is too hard), the more direct one, took us to a place with private karaoke rooms. This was very high tech, with remote controls, phone drink ordering, a large screen with music videos and lyrics highlighted-as-you-sing, plus four phone books' worth of music selections. We planned to hire the room for one hour, but stayed three! It was the greatest relief after a week of unrelenting Japanese reserve and politeness to hear Kevin belt out selections from Queen, his favorite group. He has a formidable voice and is a fearless belter! Takeshi, whose English is not so strong, sang only Japanese pop and traditional songs, but in such a sweet and lovely voice. Newt and I stuck mostly to the Beatles, Steely Dan, BeeGees and Jobim. It was intimate fun.

I would be remiss if I did not document the control panel on the toilet in a fancy Japanese public bathroom
(inscribed in both Japanese and translation):

stop spray bidet flush sound(with musical notes)

water pressure volume powerful deodorizer
-........+ -........+ on/off

warm water warm seat energy saver

You can see they are way ahead in toilet tech.

On to Korea.

Love,
Sandy

Yokohama Dispatch

November 08, 2006

It is wonderful to be back in Japan after 19 years (we lived here for 14 months when Elise was 3 and Jake, 1). It is fascinating to note changes alongside the enduring order, courtesy, and unequalled traditional beauty. The ever-amazing train system enables us (or me, during Newton's busy days) to get anywhere easily. Even in the outlying stations where the train charts are not translated, there is always someone willing to help you figure out the direction or the amount for the ticket machines.

Changes:
-More people speak English! Before, we found that even though everyone studied English in school, they learned to read and write, not to speak it. Now, many will hesitate when asked and say they don't speak English, or speak it very little, then proceed to help you with perfectly passable English!
-More people say "no" to a question when "no" is the answer. In the past, it was considered impolite to say no, so we encountered many problems regarding the vagueness of situations. This time, you ask if they have decaf espresso, for example, and they bow with their forearms in an "X" and say no. It makes life much simpler!
-When I first saw the young people upon arriving here this time, I thought, 'what a scruffy lot, but at least there is evidence of more self expression in such a conforming society.' Alas, 10 days into our stay I must report that nearly ALL the young people have the SAME scruffy look! About 90% of the young, male and female, (and many of the older women) in the cities have dyed their hair varying depths of reddish-brown... in the ONE cut that the young and not-so-young women share. This is the shaped, sculpted cut that thins out at the ends and leaves long straight strands sticking out. The young women's fashion at the moment consists of layers of unlikely combinations, topped off by the absolutely de rigueur jean jacket - also worn by many middle-aged women.
-The quality fabrics have been replaced by much cheaper goods, with the exception of some older women who still insist on exquisite quality and line. Besides the always breathtaking view of a female in a kimono, I consider the workmen the best-dressed in Japan at the moment, with their lovely knotted kerchiefs and their wonderful sculptural pants, all ballooned out at the ankle and stuffed into beautiful rubber work boots - a shape worthy of a wood-block print!
-The school children still have their respective hats color-coded by class and their uniforms, but some of the backpacks don't match now. This was unheard of in '88!
-It is more common to see fathers with their children on the weekends.
-There are more escalators at the train stations (3-year-old Elise and I with 25-pound Jake had to traipse up and down stairs at all 3 stations it took to get to preschool).

Newton was meeting with his company's distributors in Yokohama, so we stayed there and I caught the train to Tokyo for my chance to wander. I loved visiting the 'kitchen town' district in Tokyo, where an entire avenue offers all things for the kitchen and restaurant supply, including shops with the plastic food models displayed in front of Japanese restaurants! I bought 4 red bowls and a turquoise colander for my new kitchen (yeah - I know - hard to pack, but worth it!). The district is an older neighborhood with many traditional buildings, always a sight I love.

I had a rather miserable day in blustery, rainy weather, finding our apartment building from the '80's in the Kamikitazawa neighborhood of Tokyo. I was determined to look up our landlord to see if he had the new address of my neighbor, Chisayo, who helped us so much when we lived here. She sent me some beautiful bags she had made from a new address around 10 years ago, but when I tried to send presents back, I realized I had lost the new address. I sent them to the old one, hoping they'd be forwarded, but they came back. I have been hoping to find her ever since, so made this effort. I didn't remember her husband's first name, and her last name -Kitamura - is very common, so I hoped the landlord would know. I was underdressed for the cold, wet winds and completely lost when I got off the train! With some help and the sudden appearance of the little park where I used to play with the kids, I found the place. The landlord's little fishery is now a parking lot, and the landlord is no longer there. Chisayo, I haven't forgotten you.

The rest of the days were warm and sunny, in the '70's. I saw an exquisite life-size replica of an Edo period street at the Museum of Housing and Living, and the lovely ukyo-i wood block print museum in the fashionable Harajuku neighborhood, where Elise’s old preschool was located. Mostly I just walked and walked.

THINGS WE LOVE IN JAPAN:
-The 'set-your-watch' timing of the trains
-The street panorama from the pedestrian overpasses
-Japanese maples, bonsai trees, and all manner of plants that look like they just stepped out of a painted screen
-The way a Japanese person will accompany you to the destination to which you are asking directions
-The unrelenting beauty of tatami mats and shoji screens
-Japanese food

THINGS WE LOVE TO BE ANNOYED BY IN JAPAN:
-The shrill, infantile female voices welcoming EVERY person that walks in or passes by a store or restaurant
-The 'set' plates for meals, so if you want two eggs instead of one, or if you want that chocolate mousse that you've been eyeing in the case the whole meal, you CAN'T have them because they are not part of your set
-The insipid "jingles" that play on each train line to indicate that the doors will be closing soon
-Over-bowing. This tends to be older Japanese or hotel and restaurant help (or the dreaded part at the end of Newton's business meetings)
-Japanese food after 9 days

Yep...there will be MORE soon!

Love,
Sandy