Just by reading this blog, you are witnessing a miracle. Many of you know how horrible my jet lag is so the fact that I can turn on a computer and put together sentences only a week after returning from America is quite an accomplishment. I love how Cliff seems to apply tough love to the situation and acts like I have never left. Within hours of getting off the plane, Cliff requested I cook Indian for dinner.
Cliff decided to take the day off and asked that I pull together a hike or tour for us to do as a family. Mind you, Tokyo is practically at 100% humidity at all times now and the temperatures are always above 90′s. I keep having to remind myself I am too young to be going through menopause even though I am in a constant state of full-body-sweating. Given this is Obon season, I booked a walking tour through Tokyo titled “Blood of Samurai“. Lilly, our tour guide, walked us through historical graves, shrines and the like, all the while providing interesting bits of history and folklore.
One of our stops included the shrine of the Lipstick Buddha. Different from the Lipstick Lesbian, Lipstick Buddha is where you go to have beauty bestowed upon you. You can apply some of your own makeup to the statue or just use some of the pressed powder available at the shrine. I was not going to miss my opportunity to apply generously.
Many of you are probably familiar with the practice of seppuku (ritual suicide) as performed by Samurai when faced with losing face or dying. During our tour, Lilly, took us to the graves of the 47 Ronin and we were able to see the preserved pool where beheaded heads were cleansed. I don’t know why it really mattered whether your head was clean once you lost it, but whatever. It was a lovely spot to sit and meditate next to. In previous blogs I have talked about Japan being the capital of instruction manuals. Everything from DVD players to chewing gum has an instruction manual. Here’s the latest one I’ve come across:
The Japanese have made buying team paraphernalia a high art form. We ended up buying some “bat beaters” and a towel, but there was so much more we could have purchased. We also stopped by concessions to pick up some food:
No peanuts or cracker jack here. I had smuggled in onigiri (rice balls) and Chase opted for takoyaki (octopus balls) and Cliff had a small bucket of chicken nuggets. There were hotdogs though!
In the stadium, you could purchase beer and ice cream from one of the walking vendors:
This one happened to be a male, but believe me, most of the others were cute girls in short shorts with kegs strapped to their backsides. I asked Cliff if those were his “dream girls” and he replied, “only if they’re mute too.”
Before the game started there was a pre-show and evidently, baseball here includes cheerleaders:
These girls also came out between innings and whenever something exciting happened. It was so interesting to see the calm, stoic Japanese transform themselves into crazy, yelling fans. Each player has his own song or beat that the fans play when it’s his turn at bat. Fans of each team also have a signature move they all do, kind of like when people get up and do a wave in America. The Yakult Swallow fans raise and lower umbrellas for a great play:
YOU KNOW YOU ARE JET LAGGED WHEN:
- You wake up wanting to vomit
- Your eyeballs feel loose inside their sockets
- You find yourself drinking sake aka Jet Lag Juice at 12:08am
- You find yourself saying things like, “Shut your hole!” or “I feel like punching your face!”
- You give your child 1000 yen and tell him to find his own way home
Until next time…