Osaka - March 26, 2016

I had been debating between a ramen museum and a castle in Osaka, with an eye on both, but I'm glad Grandma and Grandpa decided to join and put a critical eye on my aggressive plans. We got in the taxi that Deanne had reserved for us the day day before at 9, and we all waved goodbye to Mom, Dad, and Deanne. Our taxi driver gave us a belated tour, though I did learn that the Kyoto Tower was built in the 60s and its height was based on the population of the city. The city had 9,000 more people now, so he joked that they need to prop it up 9 more meters. 

Saying goodbye to Deanne meant we had to figure out trains and train tickets by ourselves. Wasn't hard, per say - the machines had English buttons, but we weren't practiced. 

The rapid line was coming in 10 minutes, but we decided to sit on a train instead of at a platform and rode the local every stop for 45 minutes between Kyoto and Osaka station. The central station there was bustling, but we found the coin lockers and dropped off our things so we could travel unencumbered to Osaka Castle. 

Except for the train we were on going out of service and hitching the next one, we arrived near the castle at 11. Two moats (one dry, one with water) required us to follow the crowds over bridges to get to the main tower. Unlike the blustery not-quite-spring day we had yesterday, today was sunny and nearly 60! The Japanese were out in force, jogging, biking, picnicking. Street stalls of food called to us. 

But first, we had to get our dose of history. A giant line snaked out from the ticket booth, but only fifteen minutes after we had gotten in it, we were riding the elevator to the top. And, with Grandma favoring her knee and hip slightly, we got a ride alllll the way to the top, not just to the fifth floor where most of the tourists got out. 

We'd walk down the stairs to learn about Totoya Hideyori (completely spelled wrong, but the founder of the castle) and Totoya Hideyoshi (his not-as-successful son) and Ieagushi somebody or another (who took up Hideyori's yoke), but the view of Osaka lay before us. The broadcasting building was the tallest, and a modern work of architecture. Various gardens and gates of the giant park were visible, as was the anthill of people below. 

A few floors of history (a samurai costume, lots of scrolls, some letters by Ieashu-whatever from the 1500s) and our stomachs were as empty as our heads were full. 

I was so excited for the stands full of food. We went broke on pork buns, giant long fries, a mochi paddy with red bean, and ice cream cones. I had already bought the tickets to the airport, so we were good. 

Or so I thought. I had bought the correctly priced tickets (since you just by "X yen" of credit to get you to the station you want to go to), but at the wrong station. Only after we had sent Valerie on her way with the rest of our cash at Osaka Station did we get stopped by the gates as we were trying to go in. 

I both feel sorry for the woman who had to deal with us, but I also feel like the Japanese system is kind of stupid when it comes to tickets. Ours were the right price, but I had bought them at the station by Osaka Castle - and where you buy the ticket is the only place you can enter. She was going to give us a refund, less a ¥220 processing fee, but then we wouldn't have enough to get to the airport. She begrudgingly let us in, but told us that we'd have to talk to the attendants at the airport. 

I'm a pro at confusing the train information booths until they just let me through. Alisa and I did this on the way back to the airport in Tokyo when we were here 16 months ago for a layover. At least this time, Grandma, Grandpa, and I had actually paid - just hadn't bought the right thing. 

With some warning from Deanne, I had tried to make sure we were in the half of the train that ended up at the airport, but until the train actually split up 50 minutes into the trip, I was on edge. There was a beautiful bridge over to the island with Kansai airport (Osaka's airport), and I easily explained our way out of the train station. One more stressor, gone!

Since I'm off to Taipei with Jetstar Airlines, and Grandma and Grandpa are back to the States with United, we hugged and split up. After connecting to the free airport wifi, I leaned that Mom and Dad were the next gate over from the grandparents, so would get to hear the train ticket story from Grandma and Grandpa. 

I, on the other hand, checked in. (They did want to see my flight out of Taiwan with United to make sure I wasn't staying indefinitely.) Wandering close to my gate, I came to a stand selling the some snacks and the green tea ice cream I had skipped in favor of mochi this afternoon. They took credit, and the machi soft serve was mine. Grandma recommended that I sell that in addition to melon pan in my imaginary future food truck. She's a smart lady. 

The flight, the trip to the hotel, all uneventful. Checked in, got up to my room, and saw the biggest bed, the most square footage I've had to myself in two weeks, and a bathroom that I don't have to share. Yes, I'll veg in bed with random 7-11 food from the lobby please. Sayonara, Japan; nǐ hǎo, Taiwan!

Final day in Kyoto - March 25, 2016

With a cold day out, and some impending work deadlines, I figured I'd hole up in the house while the family spent another day out and about. They had aimed to go to the national museum in Kyoto; some private event had it closed, so they saw half a dozen craftsmen in the folk and craft museum instead. 

Valerie had found some exciting market to walk through, so they returned, tired and hungry, with bags from the stalls there. Some we recognized - rice balls, snap peas, giant carrots, a yellow pepper. Some was new but super yummy - a mini octopus with its head stuffed with a hard-boiled quail egg (wonderfully seasoned!), crunchy diced fish cubes with a creamy vinegary sauce, crackers with oatmeal or edamame. And the sweets - donuts and tri-colored mochi for me.

It was a feast. The cleaning person had come in the morning, so I had a shower before hiding back upstairs to finish up my afternoon. The family decided to stay hunkered down until we all were ready to go see the castle in Kyoto's light up. 

With three layers and two pairs of socks on, as well as a hat that I serendipitously bought at Miyajima, I was snuggled up fine as the lights illuminated the couple of trees that had bloomed despite the temperature in the 40s. A barn-type structure housed a concert of traditional Japanese stringed instruments - "a combination between a mandolin and a banjo" according to Dad. The players had metal plucking extensions on their fingers, and would adjust the bridges on their strings between songs. While playing, they would stretch or vibrate a string they were plucking on the side opposite their strum. It sounded very Asian, but yet I was reminded of Christmas music (in the medieval tradition) a few times. 

We had met up with Maria, so made plans to meet her at a rice omelette shop a few stops away. Seven-Elevens are one of the few places American bank cards work, and, since Deanne had no more yen for us, I withdrew enough for us to make it through... Well, dinner apparently, since Deanne hadn't accounted well for that. (There was a second 7-11 for another ATM withdrawal after dinner.)

We found solace from the wind inside a mall by Nijo station. The clean little restaurant had egg cartons decorating its walls - appropriate, since omelettes filled with rice were its specialty. The table had a curry one, a basil-tomato, a bacon-shrimp, a creamy salmon. Valerie and I had bigger plans; the menu also had those giant parfaits Deanne raves about, so we split a "omerice gratin", which was a layer of rice, a layer of egg, the a layer of our topping of choice, eggplant in red sauce. 

I was full after that, and pretty stuffed after our triple decker, banana-topped chocolate parfait came out. It was an easy decision to pack up a few things, then hit the sack. 

Nara - March 24, 2016

We "slept in" and were still all out the door by 9:30 to head to Nara, the old capital of Japan. We are getting to be pros at the bus; the train with its two tickets is a bit trickier and Deanne navigates that for us nicely.

First, we hopped off the train and were blown to Heijōkyū Palace Site. The biting wind made the mid-50s day cold, even with the sun in and out.

The grounds had more buildings on them than I thought they would, which was a welcome reprieve from the weather. The first was a museum explaining the site - the emperor lived here for about 75 years around 700AD before it was "packed up" (roof tiles, timbers, iron, all repurposed) and moved elsewhere. So, as Dad synthesized, everything that was left here was broken. It was the center of bureaucracy, and around 2000 people worked at essentially office jobs, so there was half a desk here and some discarded tablets there. I learned a new word - "dendrochronology" - using the fact that trees develop rings at roughly the same width to age things made of wood. 

Next along the giant park was the rebuilt Imperial Hall. They did a beautiful job of "reconstructing" it. (No plans or descriptions of the building remains, so they based it off other contemporary buildings and the footprint of columns they found.) Because the excavations were twenty feet underground, the archaeologists would dig them up to study the artifacts, then rebury them and make the reconstructions on top. 

Valerie and I took a brisk walk down to the East Garden. It was a smaller walled garden with a pond and a structure built over it. The construction workers really added to the beauty of the single cherry tree that was blooming. Otherwise, it was kinda just gray and gravelly. 

We met back up with the rest of the family in the archaeology center, where they had dug those twenty feet down to show gutters and columns that were from 1300 years ago. 

We had had Deanne inquire about a bus to Nara Park, so found the stop (a nice bus shelter that allowed the sun in and the wind out) and waited. 

It was the oldest bus we've been on - both in population and in upkeep. I ended up sandwiched between two Japanese seniors in the back, but the heat off the engine was making me dizzy, so I stood up front for the final ten minutes.

After how empty and barren the first park had been, Nara Park was full of tourists. We stopped at a subpar restaurant for random pilaf, spaghetti, and red bean pancakes before braving the breeze to go find us some deer. 

We didn't have to wait long. Just up the block from the Kintetsu train station was the a herd of deer, with a baby inside what was clearly meant to be a fence to keep them out. They were conveniently right by the first peddler with deer crackers to feed them. 

We swung by the five-story pagoda, then walked downhill to a pond with a pavilion. We spent more time watching the construction crew there moving around dirt in the lowered pond than we did admiring the trees. Granted, we are still a few days away from peak bloom here (though it is definitely going on in DC), so the bare trees are less exciting. 

Crossing the road, we turned to find a commotion of deer galloping towards us. What we thought was a herder - who actually turned out to be a deer cracker seller - ushered them across the road. Makes sense; if you're living relies on there being lots of hungry deer around, you are going to make sure they get across the road ok. As sacred as they are, I'm sure there have still been some accidents. 

We began our march up to the Kasuga Taisha temple. The tree- and lantern-lined roads made it more fun to spot the deer that were every few feet. Valerie splurged on the ¥150 ($1.40) deer crackers, and I tested out the tip that I had read. Yes, the deer really will bow for their crackers!

Once Mom realized that it was a training tool, she was much more excited about feeding them. Valerie's coat was getting nibbled, so she was trying to get them to bow, but really just getting gummed in the process. The bigger guy I was feeding did a great job of being polite; his antlers, like more of theirs, were either shaved down or hadn't grown back for the season. 

We made it to the shrine, with its tori gate and "vermillion" (orange) structures rising out of the lantern and tree forest, and sat on the steps to watch the world go by. The attendants were wearing traditional garb, which included these beaded bangs. Dad commented with sparkles like that in front of your face, you'll always be smiling for your customers. 

We had found a bus that was down that hill that would take us back to the train station. Valerie had sniffed out the sweet potato vendor; the deer then sniffed out her sweet potato. The deer were smart enough to cross the road all together, but this impatient buck finally left us alone when the bus barreled toward it. 

The bus-train combo was easy, and it was the night for shabu-shabu, a fondue-like eating style we hadn't tried yet. It was yet another "pay $30 and eat all you want", but the buffet had all the vegetarian trimmings for our boiling broth, so it felt much less rushed than when we had done the grill for Deanne's graduation dinner. Leeks, mushrooms, onions, green onions, some garlic and a purple sweet salt flavored the broth - which, I was surprised to hear from Deanne, you don't drink. When my coworkers and I had gone out for soba, they had given us the water the noodles were boiled in to dilute the sauces after we were done so they could get sipped up. With that sort of "no waste" mentality, just leaving the broth felt odd. 

We had pretty much boiled it down to nothing by the time we had "swish-swished" our beef and pork in it. The meat was sliced so thinly, and the broth so hot, that it really didn't take much for raw meat to turn tender and then, if you didn't remove it, chewy. 

I was also excited because, in addition to all the vegetables, there was an ice cream case. All you care to eat dessert too! I tried a few flavors, definitely the machi and red bean ones. Valerie was happy with the fries that were a part of the buffet as well. 

Once again sated, we took a cab home, but not before visiting the grocery in the basement of the multi-floor mall. I checked out the price of Japanese rice, but figured I'd be fine with the quality and convenience I could find on Amazon. Back at the ryokan, Valerie, Dad, Mom, and Deanne managed to get a game of Carcassonne in before the food coma hit. 

Miyajima - March 22, 2016

The entire family bused to the train station together, then divvied up - Grandma, Grandpa, Valerie and I taking a train and then ferry to Miyajima; Mom, Dad, and Deanne to another day trip out from Kyoto. They'll have a nice, quiet, empty house tonight. 

I looked up our destination on the way to Miyajima, and formed a plan that was well executed - first, drop our bags, have lunch, then check out the tori gate for the main shrine at low tide. Then, walk up to the "ropeway" (gondolas) and ride to an observatory on Mount Misen. 

It went remarkably well! We stopped at the first restaurant we saw with tables, and all sat facing the cooks as they made "okinomiyaki" - soba noodles, thinly sliced meat, sprouts, and either squid and shrimp or oyster with a thin pancake on one side and an egg later on the other. We beat the rush; all the seats were taken when we left, and three cooks were on the assembly line. This Hiroshima speciality filled us up we were on to the next task - touching the tori gate. 

It wasn't quite low tide yet, so we strolled through the Itsukushima Shrine. (Looking again at my ticket, this thing is old - first built in 593 then rebuilt in 1168.) A wedding party was dazzling (and not just because of the bright sun reflecting off her white kimono). We walked along the boardwalks connecting the couple closed off rooms, then headed toward the beach. 

The shrine is at the midpoint of a horseshoe beach, with the tori gate between the two tips. Valerie and I danced along the muddy sand to get up close to the roughly 16 meter tall gate. 

I was probably more proud of getting there without getting my feet wet than I was excited about touching it. On the gates, mollusks had coated what normally lay below water. In the sand, tiny creatures inched their conical shells along the gritty ground. 

We leaped over the few trickles to get back to Grandma and Grandpa. It wasn't until ten minutes into our uphill hike that I remembered reading about a shuttle that would have dropped us off at the bottom of the ropeway; instead, we earned our supper on that slope. 

The ticket station had steps up to the entry to the first of the two ropeways. This one dangled cars which could hold up to six people; in the second one, about twenty people could fit into the hovering room. 

A small exhibit with benches is where we agreed to meet Grandma; she was almost done with her "quota of stairs" for the day, and the closest shrine was a twenty minute walk. Grandma accompanied us, though we pulled ahead when he stopped for some pictures and a breather. 

The temple holding the eternal flame was much different than I had pictured. A sleek modern building was on a lot of the posters - turns out, that was actually the observatory that was at the peak. The eternal flame shrine was a single wooden room with a bunch of candles and incense - it was actually overwhelmingly smoky!

Val and I said hi to Grandpa as he panted up, then continued the final ten minutes, through the "duck-under rock" (duck the verb, not the noun) to the observatory. 

There was a wonderful 360 degree view of the mountain range to the west, Hiroshima to the north, and the inland sea spotted with tree-topped rock islands to the east. It was staggering, and also a bit breezy - there was a chill up my sweaty spine for both those reasons. 

Val and I trotted down the mountain talking about boys and were quickly back to the meeting place with Grandma and Grandpa. The loudspeaker had been going once every 15 minutes alerting us of the next ropeway departure, and reminding us that the final departure was at 5:30. 

We took something like the 4:30 car down the mountain, and we managed to find the shuttle bus and squeeze on for a switched-back ride to the city center. 

Right on the corner as we were dropped off, a shop was selling "melon pan." I read the sign aloud: "what is melon pan?" The Swiss lady that Grandpa had befriended answered by telling us it was a sweet bun, and to eat it quickly if you add ice cream - it melts fast. She also said it was a disappointment if you spent half an hour walked to find it in Kyoto and expecting something melon-flavored. 

Well, since I didn't expect or want anything melon-flavored and since I hadn't spent thirty minutes walking to find it, I was over-joyed with the sweet crisp of a bun with a hatched top and yummy warm center that was bready and soaking up the dripping ice cream that had been sliced into the middle. 

Mine was done in like three bites, so I had to take a picture of Valerie's to document. The sign was also hilarious - "Even world #1 ice cream eaters, the Americans, don't know about this fantastic ice cream only offered in JAPAN!"

 

I think I've found my calling - bringing freshly baked melon pan to America. Don't worry, #1 ice cream eaters! I got you. 

The "deer beer" happy hour spot was closed, so we wandered along the water until we found a hotel bar that looked out at the sunset. Val had a Premium draft beer, and Grandma and Grandpa had the local Miyajima beer, and I had a very lemon-y lemon sake. The sunset while we chatted and plotted the next day's plans. 

We were sipping and savoring so much that the island was dark and boarded up when we emerged from the hotel. First, we captured the tori gate alit from shore, its fiery red reflected in the high tide. The deer were mostly curled up in the tree beds by the sidewalk, also waiting for the next bout of tourists in the morning. It was holy - like you'd expect an island full of shrines to be. 

Which is all well and good until you need supper before bed. A single pub with a huge waiting list was open, so Valerie and I investigated and found a nice looking and oddly empty restaurant a block down the deserted main street. Maybe it was because everything on the menu was eel?

Well, not everything, since we got oyster fried rice and fried oysters as well as the tempura eel and vegetable dish. Each of the three platters came with clam miso soup, a tiny trio of pickled vegetables tied together with seaweed, and some other side. Whatever came with the tempura eel was cold and squishy and not good; otherwise, the meal wasn't what we were expecting but was at a real table and filled us up. Given the look of the place, I wasn't surprised at the quality, but instead just happy about it. 

We walked the two blocks back to our ryokan (Japanese guesthouse), passing the world's largest rice paddle (or close to - fifteen feet and made from wood, it had to be good for something, right?) We all slept in twin beds all in the same room, and the lights were out by ten. The sleepy island was wearing off on us. 

Hiroshima - March 23, 2016

Our ryokan on Miyajima included breakfast, so we got some good enough eggs, toast, and yummy jams. We dropped our postcards in the mailbox on the island,then headed back to the mainland (or main-island, if you'd rather).

We took a tram into Hiroshima from a stop on the JR line to give us an extra half hour, instead of going all the way to the main station. It was a beautiful, sunny, 60-degree day, which juxtaposed our morning of learning the history of the A-bomb, but also made it slightly more bearable to hear. 

The A-bomb dome is at the far corner of Peace Memorial Park, which itself is scattered with memorials and statues. Nearly right below the blast, the former convention building was blown out, but not toppled, and now stands as a skeleton monument. 

Standing along the path was a guide, whose mother — pregnant with her — came to Hiroshima a few days after the bombing to follow her father. She had binders of information, Q&A about the Japanese and the bombing, including one question that stuck with me: do the Japanese hate Americans? From the answer in the book, and the presentation of the later museum, it is clear there isn't blame for the past, but rather information to prevent this in the future. 

We visited the mobilized students monument - many of those killed were middle school students who'd been basically conscripted to make fire blockades by demoing buildings and were headed to work. 

Across the river was the children's monument - a student had developed leukemia and heard that folding one thousand cranes would grant a wish, so she folded them while she was getting treatment. She passed away, but the crane as a sign of peace and hope lives on. The monument was filled with the origami offerings. 

In a row starting with the A-bomb dome, the fire that would burn until nuclear weapons were off the earth sat next to the cenograph with the names of all known victims of the bomb and radiation, which is continually updated. 

Last in the row was the Peace Memorial Museum, arching over (a construction site and) the fountains of peace in the distance. 

It was sobering. It was somber. I flowed along with the crowd of people, attempting to both take in what I could of the artifacts and stories while also paying respects to the many, many who are now just possessions behind a case in a museum. 

The warping of the roof tiles, glass bottles, and steel girders was a haunting metaphor for those survivors left behind. A wall with the black rain that fell dripping down its wall was weeping.

The final hallway was filled with video screens of interviews with survivors recounting the blast and the days afterward. All but one were fairly matter-of-fact: a blinding flash, coming to, calling for help and not recognizing the war-torn around them. The last was a mother who wasn't able to make it home until the next day. Her baby had been hit in the impact so hard that its buttons had essentially fused to its chest. Her daughter was throw and was lying dead nearby. Her husband had seemingly recovered then became bedridden after a week and died. The bomb took her whole family, she explained, getting choked up. We had a beautiful life, and the bomb took it all. 

The schoolboys, teachers, others that were interviewed - their stories varied but it was a harsh reality for something that happened far before my lifetime. And I hope and pray that it will never be used as a tactic again. 

I polled Grandma, Grandpa, and Valerie, and a walk to the station in the sun, passing by the rebuilt castle, seemed like it would be a nice way to work ourselves back into reality. 

It was a few blocks along a sports complex, then we found a bench for Grandma by the moat as the rest of us walked through the island to the rebuilt tower.  A single cherry tree in bloom lay in the shadow of the pagoda-like tower; other stones evoked the ruins of the original castle - a thousand years old, but flattened in the atomic blast. 

We swung back by Grandma to say hi to some duckies before finishing the walk to the train station. We took the local train one stop to the regional station, where we bought foodstuffs (Val and I got bento boxes!) to eat a late lunch on the train. 

We treated ourselves to a cab ride back to the house, and waiting for Mom, Dad, and Deanne to meet us. A little downtime before our evening plans.

Valerie hadn't had sushi yet, and Deanne hadn't gotten the chance to have her sister's photo booth, so the three of us were going to split off to remedy both of those while the other two generations had Italian food. 

The conveyor belt sushi place was packed, so we took our ticket and walked back to the arcade above the Italian place where we dropped them off. 

It was intense. I am super impressed by the automatic photoshop this machine did (silky hair, smooth skin, extra mascara, larger eyes), and then we could decorate it with stamps and messages afterward! My intricate work was lost on the wallet-sized print, but I know that I put a super cute heart where that teeny tiny dot is on the printed strip. 

We made it back just before our number was called. Dangerously, I was put next to the conveyor belt. It hadn't been two minutes and we had a salmon, two different tunas, and some roe sashimi in front of us. Sorry not sorry. 

I did experiment a bit. Two of the four involved these teensy little fish - raw and then coated in a sticky, sweet sauce. Those were fine; not a new favorite, nor abhorrent. The diamond squid was not the rubber texture I was expecting, but my second bite of the crunchy layer of squid was ok as well. We only left one piece of sushi from the plates that we got - and I had the pleasure of eating the first piece off that plate. It was mushy, and sweet in a bad way, and also rotten tasting, and had some other bits in the whitish congealed sauce... But back to how good that salmon was. I refused to eat the corn fritters or tofu skins - more room for sushi!

We spent some time chatting as a family (except with Valerie up checking in on Ben) before calling it a night in our respective rooms, beds, and futons. 

Deanne's Graduation - Kyoto, March 20, 2016

I woke up to hear Deanne's voice, which I didn't expect. Her plan for the morning was to get to her kimono appointment at 5:30 and not be back until 8:30. Instead, she was out over an hour early and all dolled up. 

Her hair was coiled and braided, her eyes were accented, and she had that weird box hidden under the back of her gown. All in all, she looked ready to graduate in Japan!

We finished up breakfast, did a few showers (with handles that it took half the shower to figure out), then headed to the bus after wishing Ben a safe journey back to the US. 

We passed a dozen shrines and temples on the way to Ritsumeikan. Apparently Deanne doesn't have to pay for a bus as long as she's wearing a kimono - the rest of us got bus passes, since she's familiar with them and they will fit seven people easily. 

The thirty minute trip terminated at a line of kimono-ed and suited students (the men don't have a traditional dress that they wear) who were waiting to take pictures with a flag. 

We decided to go take pictures of the resident cats that the Cat Club feeds instead. A much better plan, in my opinion. 

Deanne walked us to the hall where we were going to be watching the simulcast of the university-wide graduation ceremony. We were to sit and stay until it was over, then she would fetch us to the degree conferral for the international relations college. 

Well, the orchestra before the ceremony was probably my favorite part. No Japanese required. After that, I tuned out and finished up yesterday's blog post. Mom and Dad watched the screen to see if we could see Deanne, to no avail. 

She did, in fact, return to pick us up after those three or four speeches and some special degree conferrals. We found our next building with a much more engaging ceremony - there was an entire speech in English, on top of the Dean's speech which was pre-translated on screen. The dean's speech warned of dying alone and unloved... Nice and inspirational for the graduates?

There were group pictures and individual pictures and family pictures. 

We passed a few sports teams and clubs that were celebrating their graduates by throwing them in the air, showering them with confetti, carrying them around in chairs, or waving gourd-shaped balloons at them. Kimonos and hair-dos of every shape and size surrounded us, as well as selfie sticks to capture the moment. 

We got the pictures then separated ourselves from the crowd to have lunch at a quick service cafe - like Sheetz, you order on the screen, then pay and pick up your food. 

The next few things on the list were to get Deanne's suitcases from her friend - she had packed up her apartment a few days ago, so had them kindly stored by Maria. Then, Deanne had to head back to the kimono rental to change. Originally, the hope was to take some photo booth pictures with the three sisters, but since there was only an hour before church, we were just given directions to get to the service while Deanne disappeared. 

We made it on a slightly late bus, and got to church ten minutes before the service was to start. The band was warming up, and there was a herd of playing children in the rooms adjoining the sanctuary. 

Deanne scooted in the door right at 5, but it turns out that this service wasn't quite as formal as I had in my head. A few people came in late, but it really got interesting when the dedications (similar to baptisms) were going to start. Just one of the three babies was in the room; the pastor's wife went out to fetch the others but came back empty-handed. The service was rearranged, and we continued with a few more messages and songs.

Dedications take two was slightly more successful - two babies went up to the altar with their families and were eventually joined by the third, and the herd of sponsors. The service concluded with an invitation to the side room where a great buffet was being laid out. 

There were rice balls (not stuffed, but still a great texture), rolls, pizza, salad (very much appreciated by us, since we'd been eating out continually), and these mashed potato casserole squares that we loved. Made by the pastor's wife, they were a layer of mashed potato (which could be sautéed vegetables), topped with pancake mix and cheese! We feasted while we played a quiz game about Deanne and the other family that was leaving. 

Next came the speeches. Deanne is well-regarded in the church, and all of the speeches praised her for her willingness to help out and initiative. Dry eyes were hard to find. 

The cake was cut, everyone found someone to chat with, and the night continued on. (Frosting here is more of a whipped cream than a buttercream sweetness, in case you were wondering.) The cleaning began, and - with the majority of her goodbyes said - Deanne led us to the bus and back to the house. 

Arashiyama and The Golden Temple - Kyoto, March 21, 2016

Arashiyama and Kinkaku-ji

While the church celebration and "sayonara" (goodbye) party for Deanne was yesterday, today was dinner at her favorite restaurant and a special cake made by a bakery she loves.

When we were thinking through the plans for the day, we took into account that I don't like monkeys and Grandma's hips don't like stairs, and the two of us and Grandpa hadn't yet seen the Golden Temple (Kinkaku-ji). Since the pastry shop was right near there, we'd swing by to get the cake on our way back to the restaurant while the rest of the family had an adventure climbing up to a monkey park. We all would take the tram there together though. 

The Arashiyama district was full of shrines, including the sprawling complex at Tenryu-ji. We first made our way through the bamboo grove, crossing over some high-speed train tracks to get to little loop through the "woods." There was a shop selling all things bamboo that called to us, and we meandered along for the majority of the morning. 

We were back at Tenryu-ji (which we had passed by the exit from the tram) around noon, because I had read there was a Buddhist restaurant inside the temple grounds - little did I know it was $30 a person for lunch!

Valerie and I had shared a bubble tea, thankfully, so I was happy enough wandering the garden without much food in me. The gardens were between the various temple buildings (which we didn't go inside) and the line of hills, though built up on the side for a great view over Kyoto. 

We found a single cherry tree blossoming, with a few other shrubs and flowers starting to bloom, but the majority of the plants were pretty bare. Just made the mossy banks of the streams that ran into the wide reflecting pond all the prettier. 

We were now in search of street food - I especially wanted to try takoyaki, which are pancake balls with octopus in them. After shuffling along with the crowds over the bridge, we found a few stands that more than satisfied me. I'm not sure if I like my steam bun with meat, Dad's fried curry biscuit, the takoyaki, or the cherry blossom dumplings I had for dessert better!

I mean, if you add in the green tea with mango ice cream that I got afterward, there no competition. That stuff was delicious. And Grandpa didn't find his green tea soft-serve all that bad either. 

Since the three of us had broken off from the group after lunch, I had had the "pocket wifi", so I found the buses that would take us to the Golden Temple. We ended up walking past the first stop when I misread the map though, so we watched a bus go by us before we could make it to a stop. 

This was about the time that we also realized that we had ¥2000 (about $20) of cash between the three of us. Cash is king in Japan, so I spent the extra time before the next bus searching for an ATM that would take my card, to no avail. 

We still had our bus passes, and the cake we were picking up was pre-paid, so the worst thing that would happen is that we just pick it up and go home. Thankfully, the Golden Temple was only ¥400 a person. 

Not only that, but twenty steps into the temple, Grandpa found a ¥1000 bill on the ground! We were rich!

The Golden Temple was crowded, but they clearly know how to deal with crowds. The line to get tickets was long but efficient. A single path led from the entrance to the exit. We showed our tickets, then were ushered to the photo spot, where we got our first look at the lacquered gold temple reflected in the pond in front of it. Little islands dotted the ponds, each with a tree or two, and rocks that were donated by contemporaries of the first abbot (around 1400AD). We wound our way slowly along the path, finding a sunning loon perched atop what I'm sure was one of those donated rocks. The other side of the temple was the same, though the lack of the pond in the foreground made it less picturesque. 

Next, we wound up the side of a hill to a lookout with a mediocre view of the temple, but a wide view of Kyoto. We attempted to pronounce the names of each of the little attractions we passed, such as a teeny waterfall, a little house for prayers, and - my favorite - a cup that would ring like a bell if you threw a coin at it just right. (My two attempts failed.)

Right after the booth where you could buy happiness was an old tea house. They rebuilt a modern one next door, with a ¥500 green tea and dessert fixed menu. Well, since we were now rolling in it (¥1800, with Grandpa's little find), we treated ourselves. 

The cake was divine. Probably good we didn't have any more cash or I would have bought far too many of the rich (in both senses of the word) treats. Sugar encrusted a red bean paste; the frothy green tea was warm, which was needed, but nothing else to write home about. 

Our final coins were spent on some postcards outside the temple complex. No more cash for us!

We had an hour and a half before dinner, and the cake shop was a bus stop or a six minute walk south. The line of people was at least three dozen long, and the buses pulling up were already a bit crowded, so it was inching along. We decided to work our tired feet a bit more and made our way to Patisserie de Ange. 

The cake was ready, and the baker gestured at the paper where it said 1 hour. It was a chilled cake, and I guessed that I meant that we should eat it or refrigerate it within that time. I exchanged a few texts with Mom via Google Voice (only needed Internet for me!) and decided we'd drop it off before arriving at the restaurant.

I'm very glad we did, because we made it to the restaurant, were seated, and the rules were explained. The grill in front of us was to cook the meat, and we could order as much as we could eat, in batches of three. 

Valerie and I were excited about the grilled vegetables, Dad less so, but we got plates of marinated meat with onions, mushrooms, and something like butternut squash to roast as well. We had two hours to have at it!

We ordered shrimp, scallops, salted Japanese chicken necks, along with more of the pork and beef. We had met back up with Maria, and their table had some pork ribs then far too many sausages for only them - so we cooked some on our grill. Needless to say, neither Valerie nor I have been getting our normal ratio of meat to produce, but I had to admit, it was a great choice for Deanne's celebration dinner. We were eating right up until the very end. 

The group of tables next to us (which is why our reservation was for the sunken table) was a group of adults, with all their rightly 8-year-olds grilling their own meats. There was only one large flare-up that we witnessed, but lots of hilarity from the orange-juice-drinking boys and girls. 

We stopped at a convenience store to grab another round of breakfast foods, then bused back home, with a gorgeous strawberry-and-cream cake waiting. A slice of that sugar, on top of the meal of meat, made it easy to be asleep before 10. There was also the fact that we had a few showers to take in the morning before leaving at 8:30am.