Blue Lotus

Kamakura

In mid-November my friend Emi and I went to Kamakura for a day of hiking and temple-hopping. We chose the Daibutsu Course, the same trail we always use- a bit boring to always do the same one but it's the perfect length for a day trip.

The hike begins near Kita Kamakura station, so it's a good chance to visit one of the many temples in the area. We found Engakuji Temple, above, to be overrun with school kids, and even though it was a weekday this was more crowded than I've seen in years. Most trees were still green, but the few that were turning colour attracted a lot of attention.

There were also berries all over the place- the purple murasakishikibu above, plus a dozen shades of white, yellow, orange and red. It's too bad the crowds had chased away all the birds, as all the berries must provide a nice smorgasbord for them.

The trail itself begins at Jochiji Temple, so we stopped for some good luck Buddha belly rubbing and were rewarded with the sight of a stinkbug with a cute design.

One little park along the way was bright with koyo (autumn leaves), so we took a break to eat mikan (mandarins) and take some pictures).

There was also an obligatory stop at Zeni-arai Benten, the shrine where you wash your money to increase your fortune. I don't know if anyone actually believes it will work- I've done it enough to know that if anything it decreases your fortune- but everyone does it just the same.

With only 22 yen in my wallet it was an easy task. It's possible to wash bills too, but I'm never sure how I'm supposed to dry them afterward. The sign below definitely doesn't help: the enigmatic English "Dries Naturally" would seem to suggest that you're supposed to let your money, well, dry naturally, while the Japanese instructions advise you to wash your riches with a handkerchief.

After a bit more hiking (I never seem to take pictures on the actual trail) we were at Daibutsu, or Great Buddha, the giant statue for which the trail is named. We skipped it (seen one big Buddha, seen em all) and had lunch instead, at a place called Kamatama Udonya. We chose it because of the picture of the daibutsu kake-udon (Great Buddha udon noodles) in the window, because how could you pass that buy and not want to try it? Upon entering I was pleasantly surprised to see that the owner could speak English and English menus were available, not that we needed them- we knew we wanted the Buddha noodles.

The noodles came in a hot broth with thinly sliced negi (long onion) for the hair, shoyu mame (fava beans cooked in soy sauce, a specialty of Shikoku) for the third eye, sliced kaeshi tamago (boiled egg flavoured with dashi) for eyes, chikuwa ten (deep-fried fish paste) for the nose, and benishoga (pickled ginger) for the mouth. It was surprisingly good, with a very light broth of home-made dashi and chewy, springy noodles. The place is run by a couple and it turns out that the wife is from Shikoku, famed for its udon. Touristy or not, this was a good bowl of noodles and I'll be back.

For dessert, or what we thought would be dessert, we bought murasaki imo crokke (purple sweet potato croquette) and ate it as we walked to Hasedera Temple. Even though crokke are usually savoury, we figured it would be sweet because sweet potatoes- especially the purple variety, are usually prepared as a dessert in Japan.

But this was savoury, flavoured with ground meat and not tasting terribly different from the regular potato variety of crokke. Very good, but not at all what we were expecting.

We had no choice but to turn around and walk to Kamakura Gelato for some real dessert. I had gelato con cafe, plain milk gelato topped with espresso, and then we headed to Hasedera Temple, our last stop of the day.

It's a large temple with a number of attractions, including a cave that I've never noticed before. We went in and saw that its walls were carved with various gods, with a stand in front for prayer candles. you buy a candle, write your name on it, light it and place it in front of the god you'd like to petition or give thanks to. Some of them, like the god of clothing, were candle-free and probably made more sense a thousand years ago. Others, like the god of money or the god of study, below, were quite popular. The god of sake (in this case "sake" would refer to alcohol in general, not just rice wine) had just two candles until an old man, who looked exactly like the kind of guy who would pray to the sake god, lit a candle and gave a very long prayer. Emi and I offered candles of our own, but to which gods I won't say (will let you know if either of our prayers comes true though).

Another thing I'd never noticed: building that houses a giant prayer has part of its floor covered in pebbles. I must have never bothered to look down though, because this visit was the first time I saw that each pebble was adorned with a single character, like the one below with 無 (mu, or nothingness).

More pictures from the hike can be seen here.

For detailed info and maps on the Daibutsu Course, check out Yamaonnas' excellent guide.

Engakuji
300 yen admission
Open daily 8:00am to 4:00pm (until 5:00 in winter)

Jochiji
200 yen admission
Open daily 9:00am to 4:30pm (until 5:00 in winter)

Hasedera
300 yen admission
Open daily 8:00 to 5:30 (until 5:00 in winter)

Kamatama Udonya
3-7-21 Hase, Kamakura-shi, Kanagawa
0467-22-2264
Open daily from 11:00am to 5:00pm, or until supplies last
English spoken, English menu available

Kamakura Gelato
3-8-13 Hase, Kamakura-shi, Kanagawa
0467-22-8801
Winter hours: weekdays 10:30am to 5:00pm, weekends 10:30am to 5:30pm, closed Mondays and first Tuesday of the month.

A neighborhood walk, with cows

One sunny autumn day in October Hideaki and I went for a walk along the Shirakogawa, a small river that runs through my neighborhood on its way to the Arakawa River up north. Like most rivers in Tokyo it's completely encased in concrete, at least in the section we are familiar with, but still manages to support a variety of flora and fauna, such as small fish, birds like ducks and wagtails, huge numbers of insects, and bats.

Following the river takes me halfway back to our old neighborhood in Nishitokyo-shi where I still teach a class one evening a week, and after we moved a few years ago I biked along this path to get there. It's a much nicer route than following the roads, although not without problems- although it is lined with houses the paths themselves can be quite deserted at night, and an older student who remembered following the river on her way to high school as a girl warned me to be careful as the path was known for chikan (perverts).

In fact I did eventually find myself being followed and then chased, an incident that ended with me safely escaping but was scary enough to convince me to stop riding my bike to work, and at night in general. I now use the bus and find it rather ironic considering I switched from walking to biking about eight years ago after being followed several times. I have yet to encounter any bus chikan, which is a good thing because where would I switch to after the bus? I'm not quite ready for a private limo.

Anyway, despite being quite familiar with the river by bike, I'd never walked along it and it was nice to slow down and really get a look at the neighborhoods we passed through. We eventually walked all the way to the source of the river, an underwater spring that we figure gives our neighborhood its name (the "oizumi" in "Oizumigakuen" means "large spring"), which is something we've always wondered about.

We were surprised that the section of the river near the source is quite natural, and although the sides are encased in stone walls the bottom seems natural, and supports an even greater variety of plants as well as a colony of large koi.

About halfway between our area and the river's source is Koizumi Bokujo, the only livestock farm in Tokyo's 23 wards (presumably there are other farms in Tokyo's outlying Tama area). Koizumi Bokujo started 73 years ago, when there was nothing in the area but farmland, and since then houses and roads have sprung up all around it, making the little farm seem quite out of place. I'm not sure what the people living nearby think about having forty holsteins for neighbors, but they probably don't get much of a say since the holsteins (or their ancestors) were there first. The smell is not as bad as you'd expect, with the barn being thoroughly washed down every day and waste removed regularly, leaving only that very fresh, earthy cow dung smell that I actually kind of like (reminds me of childhood visits to Toronto's Royal Winter Fair). Um, did I just admit I liked the smell of cow poo? Please forget you read that.

The barn is open to all and features a picnic table and chairs, allowing you to sit down and watch the cows as you sample their wares. Unfortunately the milk is not for sale- when we asked the lady said "Oh, the Agriculture Board people wouldn't like that", which wasn't a clear no and seems, tantalizingly, to hint that maybe if they like you and things are kept on the down low it's possible to try some fresh Tokyo milk. Until then, there's ice cream:

  

On the left is shiboritate milk (literally fresh squeezed milk) and on the right is chocolate chip. Both had a slightly granular home-made ice cream texture, but were rich and tasty, and the shiboritate milk especially really tasted of, well, milk. At 300 yen a pop it's a bit pricey, but if it helps keep Tokyo's last real farm going then I'm happy to pay.

More pictures in my Neighborhood album, at the end.

Hokkaido

In September Hideaki and I were invited back to Kushiro, Hokkaido to visit his brother Hidetoshi. We had really wanted to go in the summer but couldn't find the time, so by the time we made it the weather was already turning cool. Still, there was abundant greenery, the trees still had their leaves, and the temperatures were mostly warm, so it was quite different from our springtime visit.

The first thing we did was drive to Akkeshi, the oyster-producing town we'd visited on our first trip, to pick up a few dozen oysters. Things got far too messy while we were shucking them to take pictures, sadly, but they were lovely and delicious inside and we ate them in all sorts of ways, from raw and naked to grilled with black pepper and ponzu.

The next day we drove up to Akan National Park, stopping on the way at Soba Doraku, an excellent soba (buckwheat noodle) restaurant we'd visited last time. Only this time we weren't just there to eat: we took a soba making class, learning how to turn sobako (buckwheat flour) into noodles. Again, things were too hands-on to take pictures, but my first soba making experience was lots of fun. It was much harder than I thought it would be, but under the guidance of our instructor we did a pretty good job.

When we were finished kneading and cutting the dough we sat down to wait for our handiwork to be boiled and served to us. Those are our noodles, above, and we thought they were very tasty and were really proud of ourselves for doing such a good job on our first try, until we decided- just for fun- to order a regular serving of soba. That is, soba prepared by the pros in the kitchen. And we realized we'd been fooling ourselves, because compared to the soba we'd made, this stuff was a thousand times better. The flavour wasn't so different, but it obviously takes an experienced set of hands to make soba that doesn't fall apart when boiled, has a springy, chewy, and slippery texture.

Note that the soba was served with a slice of yubari melon instead of the potato we got last time. It's a nice touch to have a side dish that changes with the seasons.

Continuing on to Akan National Park, we stopped at a hilltop that offered a view of Kusharo-ko, one of the park's famed lakes that we'd seen close-up in the spring. We'd walked right around the island-like peninsula seen above, and it looked much bigger from here than when we were on it.

The clouds hampered the view a little bit, as clear skies would have shown the lake's beautiful colour as well as bringing distant mountain ranges- a few of which apparently were already capped with snow- into view.    

The surrounding hills were covered by low-lying bamboo grass, which looked dry and scraggly up close but very lush and inviting from afar.

We then went to another viewpoint to see another lake, Mashu-ko, below From this spot part of Kussaro-ko is also visible, above.

Mashu-ko is a caldera lake, with banks so steep that there is no access at all to its waters. It's extremely rare to see any shoreline in Japan without any kind of development, and my disappointment at not being able to get close to the water was balanced by the beautiful sight of the pristine shoreline.

It would have been nice to have clear skies to see the famed deep-blue colour of the water by, but at least we could see the lake- apparently it's often obscured by fog.

After driving back to Kushiro we were taken to a hill with a coal mine on one side and the city on the other. Until a few years ago the hill was the coal mine's a slag heap, but a retired employee of the coal company has been planting the hill with grass and cosmos and has managed to transform the former eyesore into a very pretty spot.

The same coal company created this lake:

My brother-in-law's apartment is on the other side of the lake, and on the side this picture was taken the same retiree has created another garden, this one featuring a variety of trees and shrubs. At first the man worked alone, but now is helped by a few volunteers, including Hidetoshi.

It's a work in progress, with most trees still quite small, but it's easy to imagine that one day it will become a very nice park or garden. It's already a pretty place, especially in the spring as many of the trees are cherry trees.

Dinner was at my brother-in-law's place, starting with sanma (Pacific saury) sashimi. This was locally caught and perfectly in season, and while I'm not normally a fan of raw sanma I loved this (and ate nearly the entire plate of it myself).

Then out came a couple whole sanma, along with the hibachi. Hidetoshi cooks most of his dinners over charcoal (with the fan on and windows open, of course), and he cooked the sanma to perfection.

We'd been given a couple steamed cobs of corn at the soba restaurant earlier, and these went on the grill with a splash of soy sauce.

The meal ended with soup and rice, and sanma featured here as well, being ground, shaped into tsumire (fish meatballs) and added to miso soup. Tsumire is not something I trouble to make often, as it's a lot of work, but this reminded me that I need to do it more often.

After dinner Hideaki tried on some of the gardening gear that his brother uses to help out in the garden across the lake. That's one heavy duty weedwhacker!

The next day started with a hearty breakfast at our hotel. The buffet included robata-yaki (charcoal-grilled fish, meat and vegetables), which is hugely popular in Kushiro (not usually for breakfast though!), in the plate at bottom right.

Then we drove east to Shibetsu, a coastal town known for its salmon industry. Our destination was Shibetsu Salmon Park (English PDF here), a hatchery with a museum, shops and restaurants.

First up was lunch. I had the seafood curry, which came topped with salmon katsu (deep-fried salmon "cutlet"). The curry was great and the cutlet, well, although I can think of about a dozen ways that I'd rather eat salmon, it was interesting to try.

The boys had seafood ramen, which was a big hit.

Passing through the shop, it was tempting not to buy a whole salmon- these were going for about 2000 yen each, an impossible price in Tokyo. Hidetoshi picked up a few things though, which turned up later at the dinner table.

The museum is located next to the Shibetsu river, not far from where it meets the Pacific, and both ocean and river are visible from the museum's tower. We then walked over to the bridge, hoping to see the river busy with salmon on their way upriver to spawn.

Unfortunately this is not a good year for salmon in Shibetsu, and where normally you'd find the river clogged with salmon and get to watch then jump over the hatchery's barriers, there were just a few to be seen here and there, and none of them in a jumping mood.

Back at the museum we got to watch a handful of salmon that had been diverted from the river. These were a little more active and made a few jumps, but none made it over the barriers. Still, it was neat to see them up close and try to identify them by species and gender. I got quite good and would have been happy to watch for hours (this picture doesn't do the exhibit justice, it really was quite cool).

There was more to the museum but we zipped right through it without pausing to take pictures. Most information was in Japanese, but a few English language posters caught my eye. On closer inspection I was tickled to see they were Canadian Ministry of Fisheries posters. I really regret not taking pictures (or swiping them).

On the way back home we did some shopping at a "home centre" (like a big DIY or hardware store) and I noticed this display of salmon-related goods near the entrance. Behind me were fishing supplies, and the products in this picture are all for storing, transporting, shipping (as gifts), and preparing both salmon and salmon roe. It's easy to see what a big deal salmon are in this part of Japan.

Dinner started with shake no kunsei (smoked salmon). This was much smokier and firmer textured than European style smoked salmon, and was so packed with flavour that it had to be eaten slowly, nibble by nibble. This was easily one of the most delicious ways I've ever eating salmon.

Next up: jingisukan (Genghis Khan, similar to Mongolian hotpot). We cooked thinly sliced lamb and bean sprouts on an iron grill with a sweetish, vaguely Chinese flavoured sauce. Lamb is sadly not very popular in most of Japan, but happily Hokkaidoites love it, especially as jingisukan.

This is what my brother-in-law had bought earlier in the day in Shibetsu: two kinds of ikura (salmon roe). On the left is ikura no shiozuke (salt-cured roe), on the right is ikura no shoyuzuke (roe cured in soy sauce).

To compare them, we had ikuradon (hot rice topped with salmon roe) with one type on each side, separated by a garnish of nori seaweed. Both were delicious, but I thought the shoyuzuke on the left had a mellower flavour that went better with rice. I also thought I was a very lucky person to be able to be conducting such a taste test!

I'll blog about the rest of the trip soon, and in the meantime you can check out more pictures here.

Catching Up

Despite my lack of regular posts recently (does the past half year count as "recently"?) I've been keeping myself busy, so I thought I'd round up some pictures to show what I've been up to. So here are some things I've been doing since Spring, some of them already blogged, some not.

In May I took two trips to Mount Takao a mountain in western Tokyo. Once was as a special outing with my Nature Club students, when I was too busy guiding the kids and their parents to take pictures, and once was a few days before that to scout out my route. Late spring is a fantastic time to visit Takao, as the greenery is still fresh and bright, there are a wide variety of flowers, and the temperature is just right for hiking.

More pictures from the hike can be seen here.

During Golden Week Hideaki and I went to Hokkaido to visit his brother. In Tokyo it had seemed like summer had already arrived, but up on Japan's northernmost prefecture winter had barely ended. It was nice to experience spring twice, and even nicer to fill up on Hokkaido's famed seafood.

More pictures are here, and blog posts are here.

Then came my trip back home to Canada, which was extra special because Hideaki could come, as well as my sister, niece and nephew.

More pictures are here, and blog posts are here, here and here.

Back from Canada, we met up with Hideaki's sister's family for a day at the beach.

None of the beaches near Tokyo will ever win any prizes for beauty (or cleanliness), but we're lucky to have any beaches at all within day trip distance. We went to Koshigoe, a beach near Enoshima (that's the island pictured above) that is one of the better spots along the Shonan coast of Kanagawa, an area notorious for dirty, overcrowded beaches. This was an overcast day early in the season (there is actually an official beach and pool season here), but by the end of the day the it was pretty crowded, but we were able to relax and have a little space to ourselves while getting in some good people watching. We especially enjoyed the constant parade of suntanned surfer dudes trying to pick up two bikini-clad Brazilian ladies lying nearby

One thing that I do love about Shonan's beaches are the umi no ie, literally "ocean houses" that offer change rooms, showers, food and drink, and a place to sit. It doesn't come cheap (you usually need to pay to use the facilities, and the food is priced for tourists) but each umi no ie has its own atmosphere, with a unique look, soundtrack and menu. Some of them are really cool looking and make you think that you're on a beach in Hawaii or Thailand, and the hipper places crank up the music and become beach bars at night. But we were there for the day only and chose a minimally decorated place serving Southeast Asian food.

We shared Thai style bbq ribs, fried, some sort of noodle soup, and fried rice, as well as a good deal of ice-cold beer, and forgot for a while that we were on a dirty, crowded Shonan beach.

Dessert was nice too!

Next up were five weeks of summer camps, in Chichibu, just northwest of Tokyo, and Izu Oshima, and island south of Tokyo.

These pictures are from the Oshima camp, which was my favourite. We slept in tents, cooked all of our own meals, went on hikes, explored tide pools, learned how to snorkel, and met ancient tortoises at the local zoo.

In between camps I went to Mikurajima to swim with the wild dolphins and hike in the mountains.

I blogged about Mikurajima here, and the pictures are here.

With all that was going on in the summer I missed Hideaki's birthday, so we celebrated a bit late with an ice cream cake. Yup, he's 40!

A few days later was another milestone: our 10th anniversary. With some of the money I made at all those camps in the summer we spent a weekend in Shimoda, a town near the tip of the Izu Peninsula, southwest of Tokyo.

I chose it because it is supposed to have nice beaches that remain free of jellyfish and warm enough for swimming in September (most of the waters surrounding Japan are full of stinging jellyfish after mid-August), and also has plenty of historical sights that would give us something to do if the weather turned bad.

Shimoda is where Commodore Matthew Perry arrived and forced Japan out of seclusion in 1854, but that's about all I know because the weather was great and we had no need to set foot in a museum. I can confirm that the beaches are indeed pretty, but sadly the waves were high and we couldn't really swim, so we bodysurfed and built sandcastles (the ruins shown above were truly magnificent before the tide came in).

We took a side trip to Kawazu Nanadaru (the Seven Waterfalls of Kawazu) for an easy hike. I think we saw all of the falls, but it was hard to tell as some of them were so tiny they barely qualified as waterfalls, though some of them were lovely, and it was a very pleasant place to walk around. Most people seemed to be there because the area was featured in The Izu Dancer, a famous book that apparently everyone except us has read. There were Izu Dancer statues and monuments all over the place,

This girl kept following us and copying my poses, which kind of annoyed me at first, but then really pissed me off when I realized she looked a million times cuter doing the exact same poses. I think I'm going to have to start practicing my posing techniques and wearing fancy dresses when I go sightseeing.

Some of the waterfalls could be seen by a paved path, but for the rest you have to take a trail which is not exactly challenging, but steep, narrow and uneven in parts. It was on the trail that I saw the lady in hot pink high heels, which cheered me up. No hike in Japan is complete without seeing at least one woman in completely inappropriate footwear.

What was even more impressive than the falls themselves were the rock formations that caused them and the colour of the water, which I couldn't quite capture in the pictures but ranged from a lovely topaz to a pale turquoise. 

Once we'd had our fill of falls we stopped by a restaurant specializing in noodles local inoshishi (wild boar) for lunch. We'd never tried boar before and weren't sure if noodle toppings were the best way to eat it, so we only ordered one inoshishi dish, inoshishi soba (buckwheat noodles in miso broth with vegetables and wild boar). It was good but milder tasting than we expected, tasting like a cross between regular pork and duck.

We also had sansai udon (wheat noodles with mountain vegetables), which came with a small plate of toppings: daikon pickles, fuki-miso (butterbur shoots dressed with miso) and locally grown wasabi. I'm not a huge wasabi fan but this was very fresh and fragrant, so different than the impostor usually served.

Dessert was kakigori (shaved ice) flavoured with matcha sauce and anko (sweet red beans).

Overlooking the biggest of the falls is Amagisou, an old ryokan (Japanese inn) with a large a collection of rotemburo (outdoor hot spring baths), one shown below. There were traditional indoor onsen (hot springs) as well, but the rotemburo were coed and required swimsuits, so we suited up and went bath hopping. The place is well past its peak and several baths were empty and abandoned, but there were enough left to make it a memorable visit. We liked large outdoor bath with the view of the falls the best, and also had a good time in the onsen pool where Hideaki showed off his swimming abilities and tried to teach me the backstroke. It's much harder than it looks, and despite my best efforts I soon reverted to doggypaddling. One of these days I'll learn to swim for real, but not during a vacation.

I had better luck teaching Hideaki to snorkel the next day, on the rocky shoreline shown below. It doesn't look like much but there were some surprisingly beautiful little fish under the water, and it turns out that Hide loves to snorkel. We don't have many hobbies in common, so it's cool that we both like snorkeling and can't wait to try it again. Maybe he'll come along on my next trip to Mikurajima.

When the water got too cold it was time for lunch, so we went to Kiyu, a Japanese seafood restaurant. I ordered the kinmedai kamameshi lunch set (steamed rice topped with alphonsino, a delicious local fish). Hideaki had kakiage-don, a bowl of rice topped with a mix of vegetables, shrimp and local sazae (turban snail) fried tempura-style. Both meals were excellent and give us one more reason to go back to Shimoda.

In September Hideaki and I went for a hike in Saitama, west of Tokyo. Our first stop was Noninji, a large temple near Hanno station with very pretty grounds. We could have spent longer looking at the many buildings and gardens, but we'd started late so kept our visit short.

I really liked the little rest area, with a tea house-like gazebo that had special details like this funky light.

The lilly-pad shaped tables tables and chairs were cute too, and even the ashtray was disguised as a tree stump.

We climbed the hill behind the temple to continue our hike, but soon after we got to the top we took a wrong turn and got lost. The rest of the 'hike' consisted mostly of wandering around the village seen above.

We eventually found the tail end of the trail but were too dejected to take any pictures until we came upon a higanbana (red spider lilly) lined river. The sight of higanbana in bloom is a sure signal that, no matter how hot and sunny the weather may be, summer is over. But as sad as I am to see them I have to admit they are pretty.

Getting lost is hungry work, so we were happy to find Kunugi-an, a soba restaurant.

Hideaki ordered zarusoba (cold soba noodles with a soy based dipping sauce) and I had tororo soba (the same with grated yam and a raw quail egg to add to the dipping sauce). It was very good, if a little pricey, and if we ever try the hike again (with a compass and map, hopefully) we'll come here again.

A few more pictures of the hike here.

Fireworks

This blog has been a little light on posts recently, so to let you know I'm still alive here's an update. My summer is just zipping by (I'd hardly recovered from my trip to Canada when my camp job started: five weeks of almost back-to-back English camps for kids) but I managed to slow down long enough last night to catch the Asaka Hanabi Taikai, an excellent local fireworks show. It was a solid hour of blasts like the one shown above, and often there was so much going on in the sky that I didn't know where to look

I didn't even bother bringing my camera (the picture above was taken at the same festival two years ago) knowing how hard it is to get a decent shot of fireworks. But luckily plenty of other people took photos and video of the event, and the clip below will give you an idea of how amazing Japanese fireworks are. Watch it, then imagine fifty-seven more minutes.

 

Kushiro Day Four

My last day in Kushiro started at Washo Ichiba, the city's famed market. Seafood is the main draw, attracting both locals and tourists, the latter wandering the market with bowls of rice in hand, the better to sample the wares with. We did the tourist thing, of course, but first we had a good look around the market.

Beautiful whole salmon were everywhere. The ones shown here were priced between 6000 and 10,000 yen, although I saw a giant one going for 36,000 yen. All were caught wild, either in Hokkaido or Russia.

Some merchants specialized in one type of seafood, while others had a little bit of everything. The scallops above were lovely and if I had access to a kitchen I would have bought them (I bet they'd be wonderful sauteed in Hokkaido butter).

Crab was almost as plentiful as salmon, and I imagine there would be even more of them in the winter when they are in season. In the foreground above are whole tarabagani (king crab) going for 4300 to 9800 yen, in the background are bags of tarabagani legs for 1500 and 2500 yen, and in the background are whole kegani (hairy crabs), priced at about 3000 to 5000 yen each.

There were also a mind-boggling array of shellfish. Above, from front left are bags of shucked oysters at 650 yen each, giant hokki-gai clams for 300 yen apiece, and iso-tsubu (a variety of tsubu-gai, or whelks) at 140 yen per 100 grams. The row behind that has asari (littleneck clams) for 120 yen per 100 grams, a small tray of asari for 400 yen, a tray of shijimi clams for 300 yen, trays of shelled hokkigai for 600 yen, and trays of iso-tsubu for 500 yen. Behind that row are shijimi for 140 yen per 100 grams, and to the right are bags of shelled and cooked tsubugai and trays of shelled and cooked scallops, with roe and frill still attached.

This shop carries himono (partly dried fish). The whole flatfish are karei (flounder), the whole fish in the foreground are sanma (Pacific saury), the split fish are hokke (atka mackerel), and the small fish on sticks in the background are shishamo (smelt).

Getting into more unusual stuff, on the left we have sujiko (salmon roe sacs), much smaller than the usual size. I've never seen them so small but I suppose that's the size they are this time of year (spawning not occurring until autumn). Or maybe they just came from midget salmon. Those big chunks of meat are fresh whale, priced at 180 to 450 yen per 100 grams. I'm not sure what the difference in price is for: different species, different cuts, or different levels of freshness? As is the norm in Japan, the species is not identified.

One of the few non-seafood merchants had variety of local and imported meat: lamb from Hokkaido, iberico pork from Spain, and local higuma (Japanese brown bear), packaged in a not very appetizing way.

And having seen the sights, it was time to do the tourist thing and have kattedon, which is a donburi (bowl of rice) topped with whatever little bits of seafood you fancy. It's a brilliant concept, as I've often find myself walking around a market and accepting samples here and there, thinking those samples would be so much better with a bowl of rice to enjoy them with. Unfortunately the free samples aren't forthcoming once you've got your bowl of rice, and the merchants sell tiny amounts of their wares for kattedon-toting tourists. You can end up paying a lot, but it's still a neat idea.

The done thing is to buy a styrofoam bowl of rice (priced from about 100 to 300 yen depending on the size) and wander around the market, buying toppings here and there.

We were in a bit of a rush so ended up buying everything at the place above, which had everything we wanted and more.

The seafood was packaged in single servings, and the merchant simply grabbed each little container as we chose it and emptied it onto the rice.

Once we'd finished choosing it was all topped off with soy sauce and the price was calculated. We ended up paying just under 1000 yen each, including rice, which is by no means a bargain but not a good deal considering the quality of the ingredients. And as a bonus, the merchant slipped an extra slice of tuna onto my kattedon, so I'm not complaining.

My kattedon consisted of, from bottom, salmon, tuna (not local but it looked good), ikura (salmon roe), tarako (pollack roe), crab meat, and saba (mackerel). It was very, very good, although the crab was a little too doused with soy sauce to fully enjoy it.

With breakfast over with, we drove west into the countryside to visit a farm. Like almost everywhere else we'd been so far, there were cows all over the place, but it wasn't a dairy farm we were headed to.

We went to Hitsuji Marugoto Kenkyusho, a sheep farm run by Shogo Sakai, an acquaintance of my brother-in-law.

We came during a sheepshearing session and got to watch the ewe above get a very complete haircut.

She was pregnant and didn't put up much of a fight, at least not the way I've seen the few times I saw sheepshearing on TV. Of course Mr. Sakai was quite a bit more gentle than those sheepshearers, and managed to relieve the ewe of her wool while leaving barely a scratch.

Her wool came off in one big piece, and was placed on a rack to be graded and have any debris picked off, a job usually performed by Mrs. Sakai.

He picked off a small tuft of wool and deftly spun it into yarn the old-fashioned way. It was amazingly strong and soft.

Meanwhile, the ewe showed some mild interest in her former coat, but didn't seem to upset at loosing it.

Next we visited a barnfull of lambs born last year. I think a good number of these are destined for the dinner table.

And then we got a look at the sheepskins. Called muton (from the French mouton) in Japanese, they looked so soft and inviting that I couldn't help but dive in to the pile.

They felt just as nice as they looked, and Hideaki's brother ended up buying three of them for us: the soft cream coloured and short black ones shown above and a curlier, fuzzier cream-coloured one. I'm sitting on that one right now, and wow is it ever comfortable. If I could I'd cover all my chairs and sofa in sheepskin, cover the floor in sheepskin rugs, and have my sheets made of sheepskin too. It's wonderful stuff. I can even understand the Uggs craze a little.

Next we hit a cheese factory, which as luck would have it was holding a small festival. It was a perfect time for lunch, so we had a lovely meal of lamb stew, grilled kabocha squash, pate, cottage cheese and bread, and a just-grilled lamb kabob. And to go with it, cheese-filled buns baked in an improvised brick oven. Eaten under the warm spring sun, this was a lovely, lamby lunch.

We drove back to Kushiro along the coast, stopping at a lookout point for a view of the ocean.

 

There were more wildflowers up there, like this kikuzaki-ichige (Anemone pseudoaltaica), and the kibana amana (yellow star-of-Bethlehem) below.

We then stopped at a roadside seafood market that also happened to have soft-serve ice cream, and I had my last Hokkaido ice cream of the trip on the beach. It was early evening by now and freezing cold, but ice cream on the beach is nice any time so I didn't mind.

One last stop was at a fishing pier in Kushiro, featuring yet another salmon-themed manhole cover.

Back at my brother-in-law's house I had a quick dinner (they would do their real eating--and more importantly drinking--after I left), starting with sake-steamed clams and then moving on the tail-end of the hokke we'd had a few nights before.

It was grilled at the table, as was most of the food we'd eaten on the trip. I haven't really explained the grilling, so now is a good time: for nearly every night of the year my brother-in-law grills his dinner with charcoal, either on the camp-style hibachi shown in previous posts or the shichirin grill shown above. He uses top-quality charcoal and fires it up in the stairwell, and when it's ready brings it inside (being careful to keep the fan on and windows open). He has a camping table with a sunken middle set up in his dining room, and the grill is placed in the middle and the food is slowly grilled, while the alcohol and conversation flows.

It is slow food in the extreme, and the meals we had there were all four or five hours long. It's a very nice, civilized way to eat, and although I wouldn't want to do that every day (nor would I have the time), it's great to see people doing this.

With a bowl of rice topped with umeboshi (salted plum) and pickles, the meal ended and it was time to go. I flew back to Tokyo with a very full tummy feeling tired but satisfied (Hideaki stayed on for a few more days). I'd had a busy four days, filled with stuff that a regular tourist would never get to experience. Thanks for the wonderful trip, brother-in-law!

More pictures of the trip can be seen here.

Kushiro Day Three

On the morning of our third day in Kushiro we had a little time to look at the area we were staying in. Above is the Kushiro River as seen from our room, and below as seen from the north bank, looking at the Nusamai Bridge and one of its four famous broze statues. The statues apparently depict the four seasons, but we never got a chance to see them up close and they appeared to be nothing more than four naked ladies in different poses.

The banks of the river were often crowded with tourists looking for Ku-chan, an otter who had lately taken to hanging around the area. I was only able to see Ku-chan once, from across the river, and apparently the otter disappeared altogether the day I left, eventually showing up again in another city of Hokkaido. It must have been a crushing blow to Kushiro's tourist industry, which seemed to have been relying heavily on Ku-chan to bring in the tourists in recent weeks. So beloved was the otter that it was became the latest animal celebrity to receive an honorary juminhyo (national registry) entry , an honor I am not eligible for (being not cute or Japanese enough).

Salmon are a more traditional local obsession, and they are honored with statues, salmon-shaped street lights, and sewer grates.

After our brief look at the river, we drove up north to Akan National Park. We stopped on the way at Soba Doraku, a locally famous soba restaurant surrounded by farm fields, many of them growing buckwheat (the raw ingredient of soba noodles). They make their own soba, and the water wheel out front (traditionally used for milling buckwheat and often found outside soba restaurants) actually appears to be functional (a rarity as these water wheels are usually purely decorative).

I ordered the inaka soba ("country style" soba made with coursely ground soba), which came with the usual cold dipping sauce, garnish of wasabi and sliced negi (long onion) and pickles. There was also a surprise: half a boiled potato, which is not something you would expect on the mainland. But this is Hokkaido, where potatoes seem to grow very well and are therefore very popular. And very good: regular Japanese potatoes are usually disappointing and I'd never happily eat a plain boiled one, but this was delicious just as it was, no seasoning necessary.

The soba was even better, with the thick, chewy noodles tasting strongly of buckwheat, just the way inaka soba should. This was some of the best soba I've had, and apparently lots of locals feel the same: the shop was extremely crowded, and soon after we sat down a long line had formed outside. Soon the old couple and part time girl running the place were completely overwhelmed and even people who got a seat had to wait a very long time for their food. But rather than get annoyed or start complaining like city people, the customers (or at least the female customers) started helping out, carrying trays back to the kitchen and washing and drying the dishes. That's something I've never seen in Tokyo--or anywhere else, come to think of it.

Akan National Park has three lakes: Akan-ko, Masshu-ko and Kussharo-ko. The first two are famous throughout Japan and I was looking forward to seeing them, but it turns out we were in fact going to Kussharo-ko, which is the biggest of the three. My brother-in-law explained that the two more famous lakes would be extremely crowded with tourists since it was Golden Week, and he went on to say that the popularity of those lakes is not really justified: they are pretty but there's not much to do except look at the lakes from an observation deck.

Kussharo-ko, apparently, is as beautiful as the other lakes but remains largely unmolested by tourists, and has more to do. We first drove along a gravel road to get to a beach with a beautiful view of the lake and surrounding mountains. It was was completely deserted, as promised.

Akan-ko is famous for its marimo (algae balls, which grow larger in the lake than anywhere else in the world), but Kussharo-ko has a similar species of algae balls. We found a number of them in the shallow water, and while they weren't big and green enough to pull in thousands of tourists they were definitely neat to see.

The weather was the warmest we'd experienced so far and I just had to try out the water. It was as cold as it looks, but if it was summer I'd be swimming.

Hideaki stayed on land and I came out soon too, after noticing a big pile of deer poop next to the water. I'm guessing this beach gets more traffic from deer than from people, and in fact on our drive back out to the main road we saw three deer next to the road.

Next we drove to Wakoto Hanto, a peninsula on the lake. With a parking lot, visitor's centre and campgrounds, there were a few people here, and my brother-n-law declared it "crowded". We headed straight for the hiking trail that runs along the peninsula and soon the "crowds" thinned, and we hardly saw anyone else on our hour-long hike.

  

 

Aside from pretty views of the lake and ancient trees, the trail offered plenty of wildflowers. Above is hime-ichige (Abemone debilis), as we'd seen the day before.

I finally found out what the purple flower I'd been seeing along the road since we arrived in Hokkaido was: ezo-engosaku (Corydalis ambigua), which actually comes in both blue and violet.

 

This is fukujusou, (Adonis amurensis, called adonis in English), a cheerful little flower.

I had seen a plant the day before with leaves and a single bud that looked a lot like a trillium, and I finally found one in bloom. It was a trillium after all, probably shirobana-enreisou (Trillium tschonoskii Maximowicz, called Tschonosk trillium or Japanese white trillium in English. These were plentiful but I only found one in bloom, so I bet right around now Wakoto is covered in blooming trilliums.

Near the end of the peninsula the water, glimpsed through the trees, changed colour to green. Soon the trees thinned and the ground was covered in moss, and suddenly we could hear a chorus of insects, the first we'd heard in Hokkaido. The ground here is several degrees warmer than normal, heated beneath by hot springs, and is warm enough to support a colony of tiny crickets year-round.

The shore is not accessible from land, but there was a family there who'd arrived by canoe. Apparently they were boiling eggs in the hot spring.

On the way back to the car we passed a marshy area, once again filled with mizubasho (Lysichitum camtschatcense, or skunk cabbage).

Dinner that night was lamb, one of the foods that Hokkaido is known for. Lamb is not very popular in the rest of Japan, with most people claiming to dislike the flavour, but in Hokkaido it is the meat of choice and most often cooked as jingis kan, a hot pot named after Genghis Khan for some reason.

There are two types of jingis kan, and we had both. The first, and the way I prefer, has slices of lamb cooked over charcoal and then dipped in a sauce. The most popular sauce comes in a red can, as shown above, and is a rich, sweet, garlicky and mildly spicy, with a vaguely Chinese flavour. Another type of sauce, shown in the jar two pictures up, has similar flavours but with the addition of gyoja-ninniku, a wild leek similar to ramps.

The other method of cooking jingis kan has the lamb meat along with its marinade (a sweetish and mildly spicy sauce with a vaguely Chinese flavour) placed in a pot on top of a layer of vegetables, in this case bean sprouts, and slowly cooked. This style is the most popular in Hokkaido and the only style used in the rest of Japan (where jingis kan has become more well-known in recent years).

As if we hadn't had enough protein, out came the two half-steaks of the salmon that we didn't get to eat the night before.

This is a type of salmon called tokishirazu, also known as tokizake, that I'd never heard of before. The name literally means "don't know the time", and refers to chum salmon with bad timing, either failing to swim upstream to spawn or swimming upstream at the wrong time. They are rich in fat and have juicy soft flesh.

We ate it over rice, along with a clear soup made with asari clams and aosa seaweed. The salmon had been flavoured with nothing more than salt, but with its rich flavour and perfect grilling was truly fantastic. I have no idea if tokishirazu is available in Tokyo (or if the salmon in other countries have salmon with a similarly poor sense of timing), but I'll definitely buy it if I see it again.

This was my last full day in Hokkaido and I was already feeling sad. And very, very full.

More pictures of the trip can be seen here.

Kushiro Day One

This Golden Week Hideaki and I were whisked away to Kushiro, where we spent the holidays visiting his brother. Kushiro, though the largest city in eastern Hokkaido, is not a major tourist destination, but my brother-in-law was able to show us some fantastic places and feed us some even more fantastic food. It started with ramen at a local place called Maruhira Ramen, which has just two items on the menu: shio ramenshoyu ramen and . I went with the shio (salt flavour), shown above, and Hideaki had shoyu (soy sauce flavour), below.

It was very simple but amazingly good, like what I imagine ramen to have been like 50 years ago. I've never really understood why Japanese people are willing to stand in line for food, but the 10 minute wait inside the tiny cramped restaurant were totally worth it.

Next we went to Yonemachi Koen, a small park with a lighthouse overlooking Kushiro harbour. Most of the city's shoreline is industrialized so this wasn't the most beautiful view in the world, but it was a good look at the city.

The houses are a bit bigger than in Tokyo but not as large as I expected them to be, given how large and unpopulated Hokkaido is. They were also extremely utilitarian, and the only attractive houses I saw were a few wooden ones built when Kushiro was first settled, most of them falling apart.

Then it was off the Kushiro's NHK building where my brother-in-law works. NHK (Nihon Hoso Kyokai) is Japan's public broadcasting organization, and because it was nearly abandoned due to the holidays we got a quick tour of the place.

This is a view of Kushiro River from NHK's rooftop. Note the two little buildings with false fronts on the bottom right: these were once stores of some kind, likely small businesses run by a family that lived in the back. This style of architecture could be seen all over Kushiro, most of the stores sadly no longer in business. Kushiro's economy is in rough shape, partly due to the flood of young natives who head for Sapporo, Tokyo and other bigger cities.

Here we are in the news studio.

Next we drove east to Akkeshi, stopping on the way at Moritaka Bokujo for a soft-serve ice cream cone made from local milk (Hokkaido is famous for, among many things, its dairy products). This was probably the best soft-serve I've ever had: smooth, not too rich or sweet, tasting of milk and nothing but.

Akkeshi is the name given to the bay and the brackish lake it is connected to, both rich in sediments and plankton which make it an ideal area to raise shellfish. Oysters are available year round, thanks to the different temperatures of the lake and bay which allow the farmers to move their oysters around as the seasons change. Along with oysters, other seafood is caught and raised in Akkeshi, chiefly asari (littleneck clams).

We visited Hidetoshi Nakajima, acquaintance of my brother-in-law's who is apparently legendary in the oyster world. A fourth generation oyster farmer, he raises both clams and oysters, with oysters of the local kaki-emon variety his specialy.

This tray holds asari of a size typically found in Tokyo.

The next tray contained much larger clams, so big we assumed they were hamaguri (a larger type of clam). But we were mistaken, and apparently the locals like the big asari while the smaller ones are shipped off to Tokyo and other places.

Three of these big ones were expertly shucked by the owner and handed to us. I was hoping it was just for inspection, but when I realized we were meant to eat them I had flashbacks of being tricked into eating live clams and oysters as a child. I had wandered into the garage where my dad and our French-Canadian neighbor were sitting around a couple of buckets, each with a beer in one hand and a knife in the other. Apparently the neighbor had just come back from the east coast and was sharing the shellfish he'd brought, which must have made my dad very happy. I liked seafood at the time and I think I was eager to try some, and while I don't remember if I liked it or not I do remember I was horrified to learn that the clams I'd just eaten were alive (or had been alive until very shortly before I'd swallowed them). I felt like a dirty trick had been played on me and the idea of raw shellfish has grossed me out since then.

But it would have been rude to refuse, and the sight of Hideaki, no fan of raw shellfish himself, bravely downing his clam gave me courage. I popped the clam into my mouth fully expecting to be grossed out, but instead found it to be tasty: the fresh, pure flavour and softly chewy texture were quite different from cooked clams. I was in no hurry to have another though, because as good as it was I still think clams are better cooked.

We turned to the oyster tank, and with growing dread I prepared myself for the raw oyster tasting I assumed would follow. Raw oysters gross me out more than any other raw shellfish, and although I've tried to like them over the years (people look so happy when they eat raw oysters) it's always failed. They just make me gag. I've also never understood why North Americans go crazy for raw oysters while shunning sushi and sashimi: oysters are pretty much the most dangerous sea creature to eat raw, for worse than the tuna and other fish commonly eaten as sashimi in Japan. It's especially ironic that here in Japan it's far more common to find oysters cooked than raw, precisely because people here are well aware of the dangers.

But if any oysters are safe to eat, it would be these ones. Freshly plucked from the lake across the street and kept in a special brine until shipped to retailers across the country, these were as clean and safe as you can get.

My brother-in-law bought 60 oysters at what I can only guess was a huge expense (but a fraction of the price they'd go for in Tokyo, he assured us). And while they were being counted out and hosed off we were presented with a freshly shucked sample.

If you read the previous post it's no surprise what happened, but if you're just tuning in let me tell you what happened: I fell in love with raw oysters. There was about a half second of disgust as the soft, cold flesh slid into my mouth, but it disappeared as soon as my tastebuds detected that sweet, salty, umami goodness. I had expected I'd want to just choke it down as soon as I could, but instead I gave it a few little chews and discovered the lovely various textures that are far more apparent raw than cooked. And then I swallowed, and immediately wished for more.

Hideaki also reported he enjoyed it, but not as much as I did and he still prefers them raw. But at least he gets it now. And so do I.

We headed back to BIL's apartment in Kushiro to prepare for dinner (or rather, he prepared dinner while we waited in agony). Above are oysters to be shucked at the table.

The tools are a pair of thick cotton gloves, an oyster shucker, and glasses for champagne (which apparently goes very nicely with oysters). As an appetizer we were served crackers topped with local Hokkaido cheese and freshly picked parsley (BIL is quite the gardener, and his apartment was full of edible plants).

This oyster was shucked by my BIL, and was every bit as good as the one I'd sampled earlier.

 

And this is my first attempt at shucking. Opening an oyster is a lot harder than it looked, and I never did get the hang of it. Every one I opened had to be painstakingly picked free of bits of shell that I'd crumbled, but luckily Hideaki and BIL generously supplied me with plenty of shard-free oysters. I probably ate half of the ones shown above, and would have eaten more if shame hadn't slowed me down a bit.

The oyster feast didn't end with the raw variety: we were soon served kaki no sakamushi (sake-steamed oysters).

These were great, in a different way from the raw ones: they were soft and plump with sake and had a deeper flavour. Hideaki liked these best.

Next up was shabu-shabu, with freshly shucked oysters cooked briefly in kombu (kelp) broth). Once cooked they were dipped in ponzu (soy-based citrus sauce), which complimented the oyster flavour very nicely.

The meal ended with soup made of broth leftover from the steamed clams and kaki-gohan (oyster rice), topped with thinly sliced nori seaweed and benishoga (red-pickled ginger). Both were lovely, and while I was half hoping for some kind of oyster-related dessert, I was more than satisfied.

I'm glad I finally get what the fuss is about raw oysters. And yet, I almost wish I hadn't liked them: where am I going to find such food, fresh oysters as the ones I had in Hokkaido? And how will I be able to afford them? If Hideaki doesn't find a job soon I think we're going to have to move to Akkeshi and become oyster farmers.

More pictures from the trip can be seen here.

Hello from Kushiro

Hello from Kushiro, Hokkaido, where a few hours ago I became a raw oyster lover. That's bad news for the couple dozen oysters I just downed, but I'm pretty happy about it.

7 Things to do During Golden Week

(This is article also appears at Sunnypages. Hope it comes in handy to those of you in Tokyo, and for those of you who are wondering what on earth "Golden Week" is, Nihon Sun has a good explanation.)

Golden Week is almost upon us, and if you're in Tokyo for the holidays and haven't made plans yet the time to do so is now. Stuck for ideas? We've got a bunch, so read on and start planning!

Take a Walk

Join the osampo boom! If you've been to a bookstore in Japan lately you've probably noticed that osampo guides are enjoying a surge in popularity. Osampo means “to take a walk”, and although there have always been osampo guidebooks on the shelves, they used to be only for standard tourist destinations and were mostly written for the senior set.

The current crop of guidebooks are aimed at a younger crowd and explore lesser-known areas of Tokyo as well the usual touristy places. They come with fully planned routes, including suggestions for refreshments along the way, maps, and everything else you need to explore a new area. Many of them have specialized themes, like exploring gourmet neighborhoods or shitamachi (“low town” areas like Asakusa and Kanda) neighborhoods with an old-fashioned atmosphere. Other books focus on topics like nature, dog-friendly areas, history, temples and shrines.

If you can read Japanese or have a Japanese-literate walking partner then you're set. If not, head to your favorite foreign language bookstore and pick up a classic English-language book like Day Walks Near Tokyo, Little Adventures in Tokyo or Hiking in Japan, or the newer A Flower Lover's Guide to Tokyo. For online information, it's hard to beat Tokyo Tourism Info's 53 Ways to Explore Tokyo on Foot.

Go Where the Wild Things Are

If you've dismissed zoos in Japan after a depressing visit to Ueno Zoo, it's time to try again: there are actually quite a few good zoos in Japan, including a few right here in Kanto.

Tama Zoo Park in western Tokyo is a huge place featuring all the usual animals in relatively large enclosures that let you get up close; the popular Lion Bus lets you get even closer, as does the beautiful butterfly conservatory. Tobu Zoo Park is popular for its two white tigers and its penguin exhibit, which lets visitors see the birds on land and underwater. Zoorasia is considered one of the best zoos in Japan, with well-treated animals given plenty of space and natural looking habitats. Zoorasia is celebrating its 10th anniversary with free entrance on April 24th and a commemorative pin given to visitors between April 24th and 30th. Fuji Kachoen is a paradise for bird and flower lovers, with a fantastic array colorful blooms and a good number of owls and other wild birds, some of whom are put to work doing shows or playing with visitors.

Tokyo and its suburbs are also blessed with a number of very good aquariums, with Enoshima Aquarium, Tokyo Sea Life Park and Shinagawa Aquarium three of the best. If you prefer the more sedentary kind of wildlife, try one of Tokyo's botanical gardens. Yumenoshima is a large greenhouse with a unique heating system: it's built over a landfill and its tropical plants are kept warm with heat from the garbage incinerator next door. Jindai Shokubutsu Botanical Park also features a greenhouse, but the main attractions are outdoors. During Golden Week the large grounds will be home to azaleas and peonies in full bloom as well as a number of wildflowers.

Hunt and Gather

If zoos, aquariums and parks just aren't exciting enough for you (or if you find that the exhibits just make you hungry), it's time for a wildlife encounter of a different kind. The edible kind.

If you have a sweet tooth you'll be pleased to know that the Kanto area strawberry season lasts until May; some places to try are Nikura Noen in Tama, Tokyo (pick and take-home berries are 300 yen per 100 grams, the all-you-can-eat option ended in mid-April), Kawana Noen in Miura, Kanagawa (1500 yen all-you-can-eat in 30 minutes), Okiune Farm in Chichibu, Saitama (1500 yen all-you-can-eat in 30 minutes, take-home also available), and the ever-popular Mother Farm in Futtsu, Chiba (take-home 200 yen per 100 grams plus 200 yen admission).

Clam digging, called shio-higari in Japanese, is a popular spring activity in Japan, and believe it or not the shores of Tokyo Bay produce plenty of asari (short-neck clams). All you need to dig them up is a small rake to dig through the sand with, a bucket to hold your catch, some rubber boots if you don't want to go barefoot (the sand can be cold and muddy) and a good recipe for linguine con vongole. Shio-higari spots in Tokyo include Odaiba Kaihin Koen, Kasai Kaihin Koen, and Toritsu Jonanjima Kaihin Koen. Note that young clams (smaller than a 10 yen coin) must be released; some beaches may charge an entry fee or require clam diggers to pay for their catch.

For (slightly) more lively prey, fishermen don't have to go far, as Tokyo has a few catch-and-release koi (carp) fishing spots: Ichigaya Fish Center, which you've probably seen from Ichigaya Station on the Chuo line, costs 690 per hour for men and 590 for women and junior high school students (poles and bait included), and kids can try the goldfish tank for 400 yen per half hour. Suzukien is similar pond in Asagaya, costing 550 yen per hour including equipment. Seibuen Yuenchi's nijimasu (rainbow trout) pond is open until the end of Golden Week; 1500 yen entry plus 500 yen for pole rental and bait allows you to catch up to three trout (lure fishing also available for a higher fee) and they'll clean your fish for free.

Go to Market

For a kinder, gentler sort of hunting, search out bargains at one of Tokyo's many flea markets and antique fairs. There are too many to mention here, but we've narrowed down some highlights.

On April 29th Prism Hall in Tokyo Dome City hosts two large events: a regular flea market with 300 vendors and a special market run by and aimed at children. On May 2nd Shinjuku Chuo Koen hosts 200 vendors and on May 3rd a smaller market will be held in the same park; also on May 3rd is a flea market in Meiji Koen. May 3rd, 4th and 5th will see large flea markets near Akihabara station and at Shinagawa Intercity. Most flea markets start at 9:00 or 10:00am and run until mid-afternoon.

For antiques, The Japantique Show runs from April 30th to May 4th at the Tokyo Prince Hotel and the Heiwajima Antique Fair is from May 3rd to May 5th in Heiwajima. For kotto-ichi (antique fairs) try the Kawagoe Antique Market at Narita-san Temple in Kawagoe, Saitama on April 28th; the Kasai Jinja Antique Market on May 2nd at Kasai Shrine near Kanamachi Station; and on May 3rd the Arai Yakushi Antique Fair at Arai Yakushi Temple near Arai Yakushi-mae Station and the Yasukuni Jinja Antique Market at Yasukuni Shrine. For the best finds you'll need to wake up early: Kotto-ichi usually start at sun-up and run until early afternoon.

Get out of Town

It's tempting to take a trip outside the city during the holidays, but keep in mind nearly everyone in Tokyo feels the same, causing massive crowds. Don't even think about driving: Golden Week's notorious traffic jams will be even worse this year, thanks to those discounted highway tolls. If you must leave town take the train and make sure you have reserved seats: even normally comfortable trains like the Shinkansen and Odakyu Romance Car lose their charm when you have to stand for the whole trip, squished up against your fellow holiday-makers like a Tokyo subway at rush hour.

Good day trips from Tokyo include Kamakura, Mount Takao, Chichibu and the Okutama area; for places like Nikko, Hakone, and Izu it's better to spend a night or two. Golden Week is also an ideal time to catch a ferry to the Izu Shoto, Tokyo's string of islands. They enjoy a warmer climate than the mainland so you can enjoy summer-like weather without the crowds that descend in July and August. Oshima is the nearest and most developed, featuring onsens, a zoo and a volcano that can be hiked in a few hours; Niijima has beautiful beaches (still a bit cold for swimming or surfing without a wetsuit), hot springs and free camping. Getting further afield, the wild dolphin watching season off Mikurajima is already underway, and if you know how to snorkel you can swim alongside them. Hachijojima offers surfing, scuba diving, hiking and ruins left by Edo era exiles and WWII soldiers.

Catch a flick

The term "Golden Week" was invented by Japanese movie theaters in an attempt to attract moviegoers on the national holidays that fall at the end of April and beginning of May. The name stuck, so well that today few people remember the origin of the holiday's name. But it's still as good a time as any to see a movie.

Once small, dingy and uncomfortable, most of Tokyo's movie theaters have improved in the past decade. Many feature large screens, much-improved sound quality, comfortable seating, and conveniences like pre-reserved seats. Certain theatres like Warner MyCal Cinemas and Toho Cinemas let you buy tickets and reserve seats online (credit card required) at no extra cost, and even those who buy tickets at the theatre get to choose their seats. If the 1800 yen cost of a movie ticket is keeping you away, remember that almost all theatres offer discount days, and some, including Movie Day on the first of each month and Ladies Day on Wednesdays, both with 1000 yen tickets, will fall during Golden Week.

If you'd rather stay home, consider joining Discas, Tsutaya's Netflix-like service that delivers rental DVDs to your home. A number of plans are available but the basic plan gets you 8 DVDs each month for 1974 yen. They come two at a time with all delivery and returns covered, and if 8 movies per month are not enough you can rent extra DVDs at prices comparable to your neighborhood rental shop. Discas is currently offering a one month free trial, so now is a great time to try it out. The catch? It's all in Japanese, so if you can't read you'll need some help.

Amuse Yourself

Although summer is considered amusement park season in Japan, Golden Week is a great time to visit one of Tokyo's many theme parks and amusement parks. All the same rides and attractions are open (with the exception of water parks) but you'll enjoy crowds much lighter than at peak summer season.

Toshimaen has a new roller coaster called Mini Cyclone, a kiddie version of their popular Cyclone coaster; kids will also enjoy the special Golden Week stage shows by favorite characters like Ultraman and Doraemon. Seibuen Yuenchi features mini golf, trout fishing (as mentioned above) and performances for the kids featuring popular characters like Hello Kitty, Anpanman and Yattaman. Fuji-Q Highland celebrates Golden Week with Asian Fuji-Q, a collection of yatai (food stalls) serving food from around Asia; Thomas the Tank Engine fans can meet Sir Topham Hat, who will pay a visit to the park's Thomas Land during the holidays. Sanrio PuroLand will host Sugar Bunnies Experience World, where kids can try their hands at cooking classes, accessory-making workshops, a dress-up photo studio and more. Or explore the darker side of Hello Kitty with Hello Kitty Black Wonder, an interactive role-playing attraction in which visitors must rescue a captive Hello Kitty and her friend Dear Daniel. Black Wonder opens April 25th for the first time in Japan after enjoying immense popularity in Hong Kong, and with the success of the associated fashion lines you can expect Sanrio Puroland's gift shops to be full of gothic-inspired Hello Kitty goods.

Yomiuri Land goes international with Sekai no Yatai Mura, a collection of food stalls offering 30 dishes from 20 different countries. Even better, each of the six weekend and holiday days that fall during Golden Week will feature one country or area, with people from the featured region getting free entry for themselves and up to four friends, (a passport, alien card or other type of proof is necessary). April 29th is England Day, May 2nd is Okinawa Day, May 3rd is America Day, May 4th is Mekong Delta Countries Day (Cambodia, Thailand, Vietnam, Burma/Myanmar and Laos), May 5th is Brazil Day, and May 6th is Turkey Day. Those who aren't lucky enough to be from one of the featured countries still get to enjoy special entertainment and attractions from the regions, such as a bagpipe performance on England Day and belly dancing on Turkey Day.

Whatever you end up doing, we hope you have a wonderful Golden Week!

Shinjuku Gyoen

You didn't think I was finished with cherry blossoms yet, did you?

These pictures were taken at Shinjuku Gyoen, the best park in the city. It's a place I'm becoming more familiar with recently, thanks to a new class I'm teaching. As an extension of English Adventure's seasonal camps, the new Nature Club brings kids together twice a month to study nature in the outdoors, and Shinjuku Gyoen is where we do it. It may seem an odd place to study nature with its manicured lawns and well-maintained Japanese and European style gardens, but the park is blessed with some surprisingly wild areas. It's not quite the same as the amazing forest and seaside venues of English Adventure's regular camps, but given its convenient location there's no better venue for the Nature Club.

These pictures don't have much to do with the club, since we mostly stay away from the formal garden areas (but many of the pictures from my previous wildflower post were taken in the wilder areas of Shinjuku Gyoen where we study). But I'm at the park often now to scout for the lessons or to have a picnic afterward, so I get to see the photogenic areas as well.

These were taken over a few days in mid-April, a time when most of the cherry trees in the city had dropped their petals. Shinjuku Gyoen has such a wide variety of sakura that there were dozens of them still in bloom though, and there was a good number of people out enjoying some hanami (flower viewing).

 

After my first class my husband joined me for a picnic. I had been far too nervous and busy that morning to prepare a proper lunch so left it all up to him, and the grub above is what he came up with: several types of onigiri, a tray of greasy sausages, fried chicken, french fries and potato croquettes, a package of crunchy curry-flavoured snack things, and string cheese. Green tea to drink and a can of beer (discretely wrapped in a bag, as the park is alcohol-free) and for dessert, a package of Koala no March (koala-shaped cookies filled with chocolate). All classic convenience store food, and definitely not what I would have picked, but that's what happens when men do the shopping.

Among the many types of cherry trees in the park are a few of these rare green ones, which have a different kind of beauty from the usual pink varieties. There were plenty of other pretty and interesting plants, like the hime tsubaki camelia below, and it's going to take me many, many visits until I'm familiar with them all.

English Adventure is having a family picnic this Sunday (April 26th), so if you're curious about the Nature Club or other events this is a great chance to find out more; check here for more information. It's free and everyone is invited, and I'll be there. Hopefully with a lunch that was made by me rather than picked up at the combini.

See more pictures in my Shinjuku Gyoen album.

Slow times at a love hotel

This month's Japan Blog Matsuri (an event at which Japan-related bloggers post about a given theme) is Slow Times in Japan, a follow up to last month's Fast Times in Japan. I've been meaning to enter one of these blog carnivals for a while now but have never been able to find either the time or an experience to match the theme. But when I read about this carnival I knew just what I was going to enter: an old, old post about a visit to a love hotel. Which might seem like it would be better suited to the Fast Times in Japan Matsuri, except that this was a very special kind of love hotel.

So here's my post: Loveless Love Hotel. If you like it, please click the link at the bottom of the post and follow it to JapanSoc, where you can show your appreciation. And then check out the other entries at What Japan Thinks. I especially liked this post about a near-deserted Sensoji Temple at night and this one about a "relaxing" weekend hike in Oku-Izumo (I can't help but admire people whose idea of "slow times" is climbing a mountain).

Presents

Up until now I've mostly avoided blogging about gifts and souvenirs I've been given, thinking it a bit tacky or show-offy, but recently I've been in a grateful mood and wanted to share some of the bounty we've been lucky enough to receive.

A few weeks ago a very kind person, who read a confession of my love of red licorice on Facebook, sent me package of Twizzlers. It was totally unsolicited, out of the blue, and an act of kindness for which I'm extremely thankful.

The Japanese are not big on licorice, especially red licorice (with its day-glo colour, artificial "red" flavour and plastic texture, I can't imagine why), so it's almost impossible to find, and I find myself craving it more often than I'd like to admit. So this was a wonderful treat, and I'd like to say I savored it slowly, eating one piece (one twizzle?) per day, but that would be a lie: the entire package was gone within a few days. Shameful, yes, but it cured me of my cravings and I think I can last until my next visit home.

Here in Japan, such spontaneous presents are relatively rare. This is a gift-giving society, but the exchange of presents is usually done according to very specific rules and for very specific reasons. The present above was a return present, given to me by a student after I had given her a souvenir from somewhere. This gift kind of breaks the rules in that it was probably more valuable than the gift I'd given her (return presents are supposed to be about half the value of the original presents, although I think it can be more or less depending on the exact occasion).

This gift was a good example of the elaborate packaging used in Japan. I usually find all it rather wasteful, but I can't help but admire the beauty of this particular package.

Individually wrapped snacks also used to strike me as wasteful, until I discovered why it's done: Japan is very humid for much of the year, and any kind of packaged food goes soft and moldy if not eaten right away or wrapped individually.

These confections turned out to be choco-arare, or chocolate covered arare (puffed rice snacks, which are usually savory rather than sweet), in regular chocolate, matcha chocolate, white chocolate and strawberry chocolate. Choco-arare seem to be rather trendy now, but I'm afraid I wasn't crazy about these. If they were just spheres of chocolate lined with puffed rice I'd like them, but the deep-fried, sweet-soy sauce flavoured rice balls inside were too much. A shame, because I'm a big fan of sweet and salty combinations and I really wanted to like these (the way I like chocolate-covered pretzels or salted caramels).

Another sort of gift-giving is the exchange of souvenirs, which is done here a little differently than the way it is in the west. Back home a souvenir tends to be a meaningful memento of one's travels, bought either for oneself or one's close friends and family, while in Japan, omiyage (souvenirs) are only bought for others. Not that Japanese people don't shop for themselves while on vacation, it's just that those purchases are not called souvenirs.

Omiyage are almost always edible, and bought for nearly everyone: family, friends, coworkers, classmates, fellow club members, and anyone else who has been inconvenienced by (or even aware of) a traveller's absence. In the case of coworkers and classmates, individual souvenirs are not necessary, and most people buy a box of something to dole out.

The treats above were brought home from one of my group classes, where things have gotten a little bit out of control. From bottome left: sakura sembei (rice crackers flavoured with dried shrimp and preserved cherry leaves), mini sweet potato cakes (they had come wrapped in the green paper in the picture above), sakura daifuku (mochi stuffed with sakura flavoured sweet bean paste), and biwa (loquat) cake. The school owner already provides snacks and tea, and at least one student will bring something for each class. More often than not all four of them come armed with omiyage, and usually there are so many things to eat that we all end up bringing excess treats home, like the loot above.

Recently many of these omiyage are not actually from a trip (unless a trip to the nearest department store counts), and sometimes they're "recycled" omiyage from a student's family member or coworker (which is always fully disclosed and isn't considered bad manners). Of the snacks above only the sweet potato cakes and biwa cake were souviners, from Kawagoe and Chiba, respectively. Which were both day trips, just an hour or so from Tokyo. It must be a bit expensive for the students (I usually don't participate, bringing omiyage only if I've taken a real trip) but they all seem to look forward to exchanging and eating the snacks so it seems to be harmless fun. I  think a lot of offices and other work environments have a similarly constant flow of omiyage, but perhaps not to this extent.

One of my private students is a retired kindergarten teacher who travels the world, and she never fails to bring me back something. She came back from a recent trip to India with a package of Darjeeling tea and a silk scarf for me. Her generosity astounds me, as does her thoughtfulness: she really knows my taste, and this scarf is totally me.

She also knows that I am a novice tea drinker looking to expand my horizons a little, and I can't wait to try this stuff. I just have to finish up the tin of Earl Grey I'm slowly going through. And now that I think about it, after eight or so years of serving her Earl Grey (she's a tea lover herself) maybe this is a hint that she'd like a change too.

Hand-made gifts seem to be quite rare, and the two above are among the very few I've received. The are straps (meant to be hung from a cell phone or to decorate a bag or wallet) made of scrap cloth and acorn caps, and they were given to me by my landlady. We have a kind of non-stop present exchange going on that goes in cycles, usually starting out with an omiyage from somewhere and continuing with "payback" gifts back and forth, to the point that I no longer what the original omiyage that started this current cycle was. The gifts are usually not fancy: I've received a bouquet of wildflowers and home-made marmalade, and have given homemade jam and cookies and excess fruit from a box full I had received from someone else. This kind of present exchange can be a real burden to some, especially better-connected Japanese people who have a long list of people to give to. But I don't mind this set-up at all, as my landlady is the only person with whom I'm caught in an endless gift exchange with. In fact it's a great way to share when I have lots of stuff, and if it keeps our relationship healthy (especially important since she lives right next door to me), then it's a good thing.

I think this sort of casual back-and-forth of presents is much more common in rural areas or more established suburban neighborhoods (where people actually know and talk to their neighbors), with excess bounty from the garden or farm plot (or from gift boxes of apples or clementines like the one I mentioned above) frequently shared.

These grapes are going back in time a while. We received them early last autumn, and although I was a little too busy to blog about them I did keep the pictures. They are from Senbikiya, a luxury fruit store that's a favourite for expensive fruit gifts. Senbikiya is the kind of place that sells those two hundred dollar melons you've probably heard about, and although these grapes are not quite in that class of luxury they cost more than I'd ever consider spending on myself. Hideaki estimates that they were about 7000 yen (about $70 US).

They were delicious, of course--at that price they'd have to be. But I think most westerners, myself included, would prefer cheap Thompsons and concords from back home: although these were incredibly sweet and juicy, one of them had seeds and both had a very bitter, tough skin that needed to be peeled. And they couldn't be peeled by just popping them into your mouth like a concord, they had to be hand-peeled, a painstaking process that kind of took the fun out of eating them.

But they were beautiful and delicious and I'm glad we were lucky enough to try them.

It seems like people just can't stop giving us fish roe, and to that I say: bring it on. This is ikura no shoyuzuke (salmon roe cured in sauce) from Hokkaido, which is known for its seafood, including salmon. It was a special treat because we usually don't get to eat ikura except for the brief period in autumn when whole sacs of fresh roe are available and we can cure our own.

This ikura was made, along with thinly sliced shiso (perilla) into ikuradon (salmon roe atop rice). Ikuradon is at once a very simple food and the height of luxury, and we relished every bite of hours.

I don't think most of the people who were nice enough to give this gifts read this blog, but even so I'd like to say thank you. May your kindness be rewarded!

Neighborhood sakura (part two)

The sakura are now gone, or at least the somei yoshino (the most common type in Tokyo) are. It's always a little sad to see them go, but knowing that the cold weather is gone and summer is on its way is a nice condolence. And I did get some souvenirs to remember them by: hundreds and hundreds of pictures. Most aren't fit to show, but I'll share some of them here.

This is Oizumigakuen-dori, the road I use to get to Oizumigakuen station. For a few days a year, the cherry trees that line it come into bloom and take some of the attention away from the cars, electric wires, loud signs and ugly storefronts.

I'd almost say the street looks pretty this time of year.

The road abruptly ends just after crossing the border of Saitama, but a few blocks away are more cherry trees in Oizumichuo Koen, the park across the street from my house.

The park is dotted here and there with cherry trees, but most impressive (in a way I always fail to capture) are the trees that line the running track. The people who execise there really get a treat.

The park exits here, with a Jieitai (Japan Self Defence Force) base on the left a park called Wakojurin Koen on the right. Turning right at this intersection, this is what you see:

A cherry blossom tunnel. Not the same road as in this post (although that road is just a few minutes in the opposite direction), this street separates Oizumichuo Koen from Wakojurin Koen (and thus separates Tokyo, on the right, from Saitama, on the left).

Along the Tokyo/Oizumichuo Koen side is a section of lawn planted with shibazakura. Known as moss phlox or moss pink in English, the Japanese name means "lawn cherry", for its resemblance to cherry blossoms (you'd have to see it close up to really understand the name). I'm planning to visit a park known for its shibazakura this weekend, so stay tuned for more pictures.

Crossing the road and entering Wakojurin Koen brings more cherry trees, and more people enjoying them.

There are people picnicking,

taking pictures,

enjoying the view,

and napping. It's hardly surprising to see public nappers, as napping is Japan's national hobby. These three gentlemen seem especially good at it.

And now, before I bore you into a nap of your own, here are the rest of the pictures without comment.

Don't forget to look down

Sakura (cherry blossoms) command our attention when they are in bloom, and with good reason: they are stunning. The delicate flowers look beautiful close up, viewed from afar they blanket the landscape in fluffy pale pink masses of loveliness, and they are gorgeous when they drop from their branches petal by petal and float through the air. But as pretty as they are, it's a shame that sakura hog all the attention, because a whole host of wildflowers come into bloom at the same time. And although none of them may have the magic of cherry blossoms, each is beautiful in its own way.

So the next time you're out admiring the cherry blossoms, don't forget to look down. Here are some of the flowers you might see.

花大根 (ハナダイコン, hana daikon)
Orychophragmus violaceus
No common English name

Also known as 紫花菜 (ムラサキハナナ, murasaki hana-na), 諸葛菜 (ショカッサイ, shokassai) and other names, this is a very common flower throughout Japan, often seen along roads or train tracks. I imagine that the view of the flowers, even as nothing more than a purple blur rushing by, has brightened many a commuter's day.

蛇苺 (ヘビイチゴ, hebi-ichigo)
Duchesnea chrysantha
False strawberry, Indian strawberry, mock strawberry

As its names imply, hebi-ichigo is a strawberry impersonator, and a very convincing one. Its yellow flowers (the colour is a tip-off, as true strawberry flowers have white or pale pink petals) can be seen in the spring and the summer, with the centres eventually turning into a small red berry that looks delicious. The fruit is perfectly safe to eat, but there isn't much reason to do so as it is virtually flavourless.

烏野豌豆 (カラスノエンドウ, karasu no endou)
Vicia sativa
Common vetch

One of the prettiest weeds you'll find, karasu no endou (literally "crow's pea) looks like a miniature sweet pea. Although considered by many to be a weed, it a useful plant, grown for horse and cattle fodder. It is also edible by humans, widely consumed in ancient times and still eaten here in Japan, where the wild shoots and young seed pods are gathered and eaten as sansai (wild vegetable), most often sauteed or fried as tempura (both shown here).

花韮 (ハナニラ, hananira)
Ipheion uniflorum
Spring starflower

This pretty little flower is native to South America but naturalized in Japan. The stem and leaves give off a strong nira (garlic chive) smell when crushed, hence the name hananira (literally "garlic chive flower").

Unidentified fiddleheads

I know next to nothing about ferns so have no idea what these are (I do know that they are not warabi or zenmai, two of the edible types of ferns prized in Japan). A little bit of research online has shown that ferns are notoriously difficult to identify, so I may never find out what these are unless a kind and knowledgeable reader can help out. It also seems that "fiddlehead" is more of a culinary term, while scientists use the word "crozier" or "young frond". I think.

踊り子草 (オドリコソウ, odoriko-sou)
Lamium album var. barbatum
White dead nettle, bee nettle

I've noticed this plant for years, often confusing it with shiso (a culinary herb that can sometimes be found growing wild) due to their similar leaves. When seen in the spring, however, the flowers give it away as another species, which saves me from having to rub the leaves and be disappointed at the lack of shiso fragrance. But I've just found out that my disappointment has been unwarranted, as odoriko-sou is an edible plant. The shoots and young leaves are eaten as sansai, as are the flowers, which are most often prepared as tempura to preserve their pretty shape and sweet nectar. Odoriko-sou is also used in traditional medicine, both in Japan and its native Europe.

連銭草 (カキドウシ, kakidoushi)
Glechoma hederacea var. grandis
Ground ivy, catsfoot, creeping charlie

Kakidoushi is native to Europe, where it was once prized as a medicinal herb and an ingredient in beer (it added flavour and clarified cloudy brews in the days before hops were used). It has been naturalized in many parts of the world and is regarded in North America, despite the pretty little flowers, as an undesirable weed. It is still used in medicine in Japan (the plant is usually referred to as rensensou when used as a medicinal herb), most often as a tea used for reducing blood sugar and weight loss.

雪柳 (ユキヤナギ, yukiyanagi)
Spiraea thunbergii
Baby's breath spirea

Native to Japan and China, yukiyanagi can be found both as a wild plant and as a landscape shrub. The Japanese name literally means "snow willow", because of the snowy white flowers and the way the drooping branches resemble the weeping willow.

紫華鬘 (ムラサキケマン, murasaki-keman)
Corydalis incisa
No common English name

Murasaki-keman is named after the keman, a decoration found at Buddhist temples featuring intricate dangling chains that the flowers are thought to resemble (this makes a little more sense with kikeman, the yellow version).

山吹 (ヤマブキ, yamabuki)
Kerria japonica
Japanese yellow rose, kerria rose, yellow rose, Japanese kerria

Yamabuki is native to China and Japan but it's more likely, at least in Tokyo, to find it as an ornamental shrub. The Japanese name means "mountain spray", and the flower is much referred to in Japanese writing and art.

者莪 (シャガ, shaga)
Iris japonica
Fringed iris, Japanese iris

This small member of the iris family is rather unassuming, at least until you get up close and discover the delicate fringe and the pretty purple and yellow patterns on the petals. It originally came from China but has been naturalized in Japan, where it is found in shady areas, both as a cultivated and a wild plant.

常盤はぜ (トキワハゼ, tokiwahaze)
Mazus pumilus
Japanese mazus

These tiny little flowers can be seen from spring through to fall, and as lovely as they are they seem under-appreciated, as I can find very little information on them.

草苺 (くさいちご, kusa-ichigo), 野苺 (ノイチゴ, no-ichigo), 山苺 (ヤマイチゴ, yama-ichigo)
Rubus hirsutus
No common English name

This wild raspberry goes by a few different names, all of them misidentifying the fruit as a strawberry. Which is understandable as raspberries are called 木苺 (キイチゴ, ki-ichigo, literally "shrub strawberry"), but this unfortunately leads to a bit of confusion and the names seem to be used interchangeably for both wild strawberries and wild raspberries. But make no mistake, this flower will soon turn into a large reddish-orange raspberry that has a mild but delicious flavour and is as sought after by people as it is by birds and other animals.

芹葉飛燕草 (セリバヒエンソウ, seribahi-ensou)
Delphinium anthriscifolium
No common English name

This is another pretty flower with scanty information available. It was brought to Japan from China in the Meiji era (1868 to 1912) and I'll need to improve my Japanese if I want to know why.

繁縷 (ハコベ, hakobe)
Stellaria media
Common chickweed, winterweed

I tend not to notice these tiny flowers unless I'm already down on the ground looking at something else, but I'm always glad to see them as they're cute up close. Hakobe is one of the haru no nanakusa (seven herbs of spring), eaten after New Year's in okayu (rice porridge). (A bit off-topic, but I've just noticed that both the Japanese and English Wikipedia entries on nanakusa use my pictures. You'd think they could find something better.)

蔓日々草 (ツルニチニチソウ, tsuru-nichinichi-sou)
Vinca major
Large periwinkle, greater periwinkle, blue periwinkle

This pretty flower was introduced from Europe as an ornamental and is still most often seen in gardens, but it can occasionally be found growing in the wild.

丸葉菫 (マルバスミレ, maruba-sumire)
Viola keiskei
No common English name

One of the many varieties of sumire (violets) found in Japan.

立壷菫 (タチツボスミレ, tachitsubo-sumire)
Viola grypoceras A. Gray
No common English name

Another variety of violet, tachitsubo-sumire is one of the most common, and itself has a few variations (which my skills are not up to distinguishing).

大甘菜 (オオアマナ, oo-amana), オーニソガラム (oonisogaramu)
Ornithogalum umbellatum
Star-of-Bethleham, grass lilly, sleepydick

Native to Eurasia and northwest Africa, this plant has naturalized in much of Japan and is widely found in sunny fields. Considered in the west to be a medicinal herb and still used in holistic healing, it has edible bulbs that resemble garlic in appearance but not in smell or flavour. I'm guessing it's not very tasty as it's considered a famine food, only eaten when nothing else is available. The pretty flowers last just a few days and close up when night falls.　

春竜胆 (ハルリンドウ, haru-rindou)
Gentiana thunbergii
No common English name

This pretty blue flower can be found in sunny fields throughout most of Japan.

百合山葵 (ユリワサビ, yuri-wasabi)
Wasabia tenuis
No common English name

Yuri-wasabi is the wild version of wasabi, the plant grown for its spicy root which lends its flavour to sushi and other foods. Both wasabi and yuri-wasabi have edible leaves, with a similar wasabi-like flavour. The similarities end at ground level though, as yuri-wasabi has lilly-like bulbs (hence the Japanese name, which means "lilly wasabi") rather than the spicy rhizome of cultivated wasabi.

大犬の陰嚢 (オオイヌノフグリ, oo-inu-no-fuguri)
Veronica persica
Persian speedwell, birdeye speedwell, birds-eye

One of my favourite spring flowers and one of the earliest blooming, showing up as early as February. The name has long intrigued me, as it means "large dog's balls" (fuguri being a rather obscure word for testicles) yet looks nothing like any dog balls I've ever seen. Until today, when I saw a picture of the seed pod while researching this post, and what do you know? It really does look like dog balls (although I wouldn't exactly call them large). I'm greatly relieved to finally know where the name came from, as it means I can stop checking out dog's testicles. People were starting to talk.

二輪草 (ニリンソウ, nirin-sou)
Anemone flaccida
Soft windflower

The Japanese name means "two-flower grass", referring to the fact that most plants produce two flowers (although many, like the two below, produce just one and some produce three). "Soft windflower" is a literal translation of the Latin name and I'm not sure if this is the real common English name, as I only came across it on a few websites, all of them Japanese. There are very similar plants called ichirin-sou (one-flower grass) and sanrin-sou (three-flower grass), which as the names suggest produces one and three flowers respectively. So what makes me think that the two pictures below are of nirin-sou? It's just a guess, based on the other nirin-sou they were with as well as their bracts. I could be wrong though.

All pictures are mine, most taken this year in Tokyo with a few older pictures from Tokyo, Saitama and Kanagawa. I'm an amateur plant lover, so feel free to correct any mistakes I might have made.

Shakujii Koen

Last week Hideaki and I rode our bikes to Shakujii Koen, a park in Nerima ward that is said to be one of Tokyo's best. It's not too far away, but for some reason we haven't been since we moved nearby, and this was our first visit since I lived on the other side of the park, about 12 years ago. Because it's a little far out from central Tokyo it never gets really crowded, except maybe on the weekend when the cherry blossoms are at full bloom. This being a weekday and bit past the cherry blossoms' peak, we almost had the park to ourselves.

The park is divided into two sections, separated by a road. The west side is where we started, and this is where the people were at their fewest and the nature at its most abundant. I was surprised by the diversity of plant life, and while I didn't see as many birds as I'd expected (the park is well known for its waterfowl), we did get to see a pair of the parks famed kawasemi (kingfishers). There was, of course, no way I could get a picture of the shy birds, but hopefully the dozen or so ojiisan (grandfathers) with their giant lenses and professional looking cameras fared better. So here are some ducks instead, and without further comment, the rest of the pictures we took that day.

 

Shakujii Koen
03-3996-3950
1-26 Shakujiidai, Nerima-ku, Tokyo

To get there: a 10 minute walk south of Shakuji Koen station on the Seibu Ikebukuro line, or a 20 minute walk north of Kami Shakujii station on the Seibu Shinjuku line

Megurogawa Hanami

Last week Emi (in the red jacket, below) and I got together for more hanami, this time along the Megurogawa River. Again it was yozakura (night cherry blossoms), since that's all our work schedules allowed, and although the blossoms were at their peak and would have looked lovely in the daytime, I thought they looked pretty nice at night too.

Marumasuya, or Hana Yori Dango

"Hana yori dango" is a phrase you'll hear a lot in Japan around hanami (cherry blossom viewing) season. Dango are sweet rice flour dumplings, a popular snack sold by vendors at festivals or packed into hanami bento (cherry blossom viewing lunchboxes), and the phrase literally translates as "dango before flowers". Which refers to the way some people are more interested in the snacks that accompany hanami than the blossoms themselves.

Normally the expression doesn't really apply to us, as we love the flowers as much as the food that goes with them. But this weekend we had an attack of hana yori dango: we were on our way to have a little hanami party for two, and during the one minute walk to the park we got a phone call inviting us out to dinner. And the picture above of the cherry tree-lined street that borders the park shows the extent of our hanami that day: knowing how long it would take me to get ready, we turned right around without even entering the park. No big deal, we knew the sakura would still be there the next day.

So at home we unpacked the quickie bento I'd put together earlier, and had a quick bite to tide us over until dinner, leaving the rest for the next day's breakfast. I had packed onigiri (rice balls) flavoured with homemade shirasu furikake (a savory rice topping made from baby sardines and sesame seeds): two consisted of rice stuffed with the furikake, and for the other two the rice was simply mixed with it, and all four wrapped with nori seaweed. On the side was kyuri no asazuke (quick-pickled cucumber), cut fruit, and hot green tea. Extremely basic for a hanami bento, but in the end it was just as well I hadn't gone to much effort because we had a giant dinner afterwards.

We ended up at a restaurant called Marumasuya in Akabane, a northern Tokyo neighborhood I'd never been to before. The area had a shitamachi (literally "low town", these are old neighborhoods in Tokyo populated by the common folk) feeling that I liked, and the streets around the station abounded with little bars marked with akachochin (red paper lanterns). When we got to the restaurant there was a line to get in, and I took it as a good sign when an old man waiting behind us started talking to me in Japanese, and a few minutes after he got in (having come alone he was seated quicker), another old man chatted me up. It's extremely rare for this to happen to me, as most people here seem convinced that Japanese is an impossible language for foreigners to learn, so for not one but two strangers to just start talking to me in their language, apparently just assuming I could understand them, was very cool.

From the outside Marumasuya looks like its been around forever (not necessarily in a bad way) and seems to be a local institution. Inside, the place was cramped, crowded and cozy, its walls plastered with hand-printed signs listing the menu items (like a lot of older places Marumasuya has no actual menu). It was packed with all sorts of people, most of whom were older and nearly all of whom appeared to be regulars. Or maybe it was just the friendly vibe of the place that made instant regulars out of everyone. The waitstaff acted more like mothers (or grandmothers, as a few appeared to be in their sixties or seventies) than waitresses, and there was a good deal of interaction between both them and the customers and between the customers themselves, or at least the customers at the counters. A good portion of the diners had come by themselves, but none of them were actually alone. It felt exactly like what a good old shitamachi restaurant should, and that's an atmosphere you just don't find in newer parts of Tokyo. Of course, since this is a nomiya (a drinking establishment) and everyone either had sake or beer in front of them, alcohol probably went far in encouraging the friendly feeling of the place.

According to the sign outside, the place specializes in unagi (freshwater eel), which I was excited about, and koi (carp), which was a bit less exciting. Koi is far more popular in ponds than on menus, and with good reason: it's not very good. Or rather, most people think it's not very good, but there is a small population of people who love it, and Marumasuya is happy to cater to those people. The classic koi dish is koi no arai, shown above, which is carp "sashimi" served with a vinegar miso sauce. It is not true sashimi as it's been boiled, which is probably done to render it safe to eat (freshwater fish has too many parasites to be safely eaten raw) and remove excess carp flavour.

I'd tried koi once before, but it was a very small dish of tiny slices dressed with miso. With a pleasantly chewy texture and no apparent flavour of its own, I liked it just fine but didn't add it to my list of favourite foods. This time around was a little different, with huge undressed slices of the fish that because of the firm texture had to be eaten whole. That really forced me to actually taste the fish, which tasted, at first, of nothing. And after the nothing came another flavour, which can be best described as "muddy". It pretty much tasted exactly what you'd expect a fish that lives in murky ponds to taste like.

I'd probably eat koi again, if I was starving to death and that was all I could catch, but I wouldn't prepare it like this. There are probably a dozen ways to cook koi that are better than sashimi (and to be fair Marumasuya did offer several of them, and I'm guessing that their deep-fried koi is not bad).

The next dish more than made up for the koi disappointment. It was kawahagi (filefish) sashimi, which is firm and delicate in flavour, often compared to fugu (blowfish, a far more expensive--and slightly dangerous--fish). We got the flesh from a whole fish, served on a shiso (perilla) leaf and pile of thinly sliced daikon and carrot that covered up what was left of the body, which was artfully arranged so that only the fins and tail (a surprisingly bright blue) were visible. Garnishes on the right are negi (long onion), momiji oroshi (daikon grated with hot pepper) and a sprig of shiso buds, and on the left is a paste made from the fish's liver. To eat it, you add the garnishes to a dish of soy sauce then lay out a piece of sashimi, smear a small dab of liver in the middle, roll up the fish and dip it in the soy sauce. I'm not big on organ meats, but there are a few types of liver that I like (namely ankimo and fois gras), and now I can add filefish liver to that list. This was fantastic, both the rich, sweet liver and the mild sashimi, and I can't believe I've never had it before.

Aside from koi and unagi, Marymasuya has a number of meibutsu (famous products). One of them is deep-fried fried garlic, which comes as a whole head with a dab of miso as a garnish. I had a first aid class the next day so I tried to avoid the garlic, knowing that garlic breath doesn't go well with the close contact involved in learning CPR and splinting techniques. But I just couldn't resist and ended up having a few bites. I was glad I did (probably much more glad than the other participants in the first aid class) because it was delicious. Similar to roasted garlic, but with a more assertive garlic flavour. It lacked a bit of the sweetness and deep flavour that roasting brings, but the miso seemed to make up for that, and I only wished I had a nice baguette to spread it on.

Next up were gesoten (deep fried squid tentacles, another meibutsu) and basashi (horse sashimi). The gesoten, which I didn't get a picture of, tied with the kawahagi as my favourite item of the evening, surprisingly tender and tasty with just enough bite to remind you it's squid. The basashi was also excellent. Horse is hardly consumed in North America, and although most people there feel horses should be ridden and not eaten, the simple fact is that it's a very tasty animal. It's very similar to beef, but sweeter, richer, and somehow cleaner tasting. This sashimi was a good example, and the heavy marbling seems to indicate that this particular horse was raised to be meat, which will hopefully be reassuring to horse fans (who apparently find it outrageous that some retired racehorses of North America end up shipped overseas to become someone's dinner).

The meal finished with unaju (eel grilled with a sweet soy sauce, served in a box of rice) with pickles and kimosui (eel liver in clear soup). This was a delicious and rare treat: unagi is rather expensive and we haven't had it (or at least good unagi in a restaurant) for a few years. The soup was surprisingly good too. I didn't like kimosui the first time I had it (like I said, I'm not crazy about offal), but this time it was mild and tasty. I guess that's a fourth type of liver I like.

This was one of the best meals we've had in a long time, and one that I was happy to give up hanami for. Hana yori dango, indeed.

Marumasuya (まるます屋)
03-3901-1405
1-17-7Akabane, Kita-ku, Tokyo
Open 9:00am to 9:30pm, closed Thursdays

Neighborhood sakura (and other flowers)

I'm really lucky to live in a area full of cherry blossoms. They're everywhere: lining the three kilometre long street that runs from Oizumigakuen station to my neighborhood (shown above, a few days before they were in full bloom),

overlooking the parking lot of the convenience store down the street,

in the garden of a large house nearby (I love the little katteguchi, a traditional service entrance far too small to fit through comfortably and only used for those not priviliged enough to use the driveway just one metre away),

on the other side of the intersection in front of our building (if only there were cherry trees on our side),

lining the street that runs from that intersection to Camp Asaka, a Jieitai (Self Defence Forces, Japan's defacto army) base,

right inside Camp Asaka (in fact, the best cherry blossoms of all are either inside or lining the base),

and at Wakojurin Koen, the park next to the base.

For now the flowers are staying on the trees, but there are a few fallen petals here and there, pretty reminders of the pink carpet we'll be seeing next week.

 

Cherry blossoms aren't the only flower out, of course. The petal below is from otometsubaki, a kind of camelia that blooms around the same time as sakura.

It's a lovely flower that unfortunately tends to get overlooked due to its timing and pale colour.

Yamabuki (kerria rose) is another flower that comes during sakura season, but it's very hard not to notice its blindingly bright colour.

And of course there's hakumokuren (yulan magnolia), which usually starts before the cherry blossoms but you'll often find them hanging on until mid April.

The cherry trees on the grounds of the fire station on the other side of the park were not yet at their peak when I passed by last week, but I had to take a picture of the firemen doing their training.

It makes me feel nice and safe having all these well-trained fire fighters nearby, not to mention a base full of soldiers (both will come in handy when the long predicted major earthquake hits Tokyo).

Oh yeah, and all those cherry trees aren't bad to have around either.

JapanSoc it!

Chidorigafuchi

On Tuesday after work I met my friend Emi for a little hanami (cherry blossom viewing) in Chidorigafuchi. It was a little too early and the sakura were just starting to open, but that was actually part of my plan: Chidorigafuchi gets incredibly crowded when the blossoms are at their peak. In fact, this is one of the places that I warned not to go to in my recent Alternative Hanami article, but the fact is that Chidorigafuchi, along with most of the other famous hanami spots, is rather conveniently located and easy for a quick evening visit.

Chidorigafuchi is the general name given to a large area, but the place to see the sakura is Chidorigafuchi Ryokudo, a path that follows a section of the Imperial Palace moat. The place holds a Sakura Matsuri (Cherry Blossom Festival) from late March to early April, the highlight of which is the lights (low energy LED lights, as the organizers are quick to point out) that illuminate the blossoms at night. It's one of those places where you can't actually sit down with a group of friends under the blossoms and drink sake all day: the sakura can only be seen from a path while you walk by. It is quite strictly controlled, with the path divided into two "lanes", and a security guard or volunteer will nicely ask you to keep moving if you block the path while taking pictures or will direct you to the correct late if you walk on the wrong side of the path.

There are plenty of benches along the way, but those who choose to use the benches for picnics will be asked to pack up. Although I did see a few people discretely enjoying a clandestine bento and some sake on the benches, including a few couples consisting of young women in a gorgeous kimono or pretty dress with older suited men (probably high class hostesses and their customers out on a date before they headed off to their clubs for the night). Other interesting people included several kind folks who asked us, while we were posing together, if we wanted them to take our picture despite the fact that we had a tripod and were doing just fine by ourselves. And then there were the old men who took pictures of us as we took pictures of the cherry blossoms or each other; I still can't decide if that was cute or creepy. And let's not forget the two ladies in front of us as we passed the Indian Embassy. There appeared to be some kind of event going on and among the crowd seen through the glass were, not surprisingly, plenty of Indian people. Which prompted one of the ladies to say "Indojin da!" (Indians!) and her friend to say "Waa, sugoi!" (Oh wow!). Which even if we weren't at the Indian Embassy I would have found hilarious, because Indians are not exactly rare in Tokyo (there's even a Little India here, one of the few ethnic areas in the city).

We had picked up a map when we started and took the recommended route, which was probably meant for daytime flower viewing because after the path ended we walked through the nearby Kitanomaru Koen Park, which was dark and any cherry trees that might have been there were pretty much invisible, with the exception of a few at each end of the park.

Then we dodged joggers (there were hundreds of them!) as we walked along a busy road that followed the moat; it was lined with cherry trees but they weren't lit up so it was hard to see them. Would have been much nicer in the daytime, especially with most of those joggers safely at work.

Finally we found ourselves right back at the beginning of Chidorigafuchi Ryokudo, so we took a few more pictures before heading home. It was actually quite a bit more crowded than these pictures suggest, and we had to wait quite a while to get shots that weren't full of people. I'm not thrilled with my pictures and have a lot to learn about night shots, but this is good incentive to learn. And this was a lovely place to visit, with or without camera skills. I recommend a visit during the day, but if you really want to come at night budget quite a bit of time, because the crowds move slowly. We took about three hours to complete our route, and that was with crowds about half of what they'd be during peak cherry blossom time. Which looks like it will be this weekend (Saturday really, because rain is forecast for Sunday) and early next week in Tokyo. Happy cherry blossom viewing!

Chidorigafuchi Ryokudo
Free entry (rowboats can be rented until 7:30 for 800 yen per half hour)
Blossoms will lit up from 6:30 to 10:00 nightly until April 5th (may be extended this year due to the late blooming of the sakura)
Nearest stations: Hanzomon and Kudanshita (signs in Japanese mark the way to and from Hanzomon and Chidorigafuchi; if you can't read Japanese just follow the crowds)

JapanSoc it!