Asakusa at Twilight

If I had only a couple of hours to spend in Tokyo, I'd spend them in Asakusa. I'm so fond of Asakusa that I went back there today, my final day in Tokyo, for a second visit. It has almost everything to give a visitor a taste of the best in Japanese culture: historical interest, a Buddhist temple, a Shinto shrine, a lively shopping district to purchase souvenirs and traditional handcrafted goods, a feel for an older and more charming Tokyo in some of the small back streets. There is even a theatre showing old Japanese films and an old fashioned amusement park if that's what you're into, or boat cruise down the Sumida River.

The food stalls just around Sensoji add to the atmosphere by offering the types of snacks generally found at festivals. You can get freshly made rice crackers, fried mochi, tako-yaki, yakitori and many other treats. Or have a meal at one of the many good restaurants in the vicinity. For a quiet tea break and a sampling of traditional sweets, I recommend a little shop called Matoi.

Make sure you visit my favorite stationery shop in the city, Kurodaya, which has been in business since 1856. It's located just to the right of Kaminari-mon (Thunder Gate). You'll find beautiful handcrafted paper products, post cards, kites, antique wood block prints, washi and chiyogami.

Yes, the place is packed with tourists and there are plenty of kitschy things for sale, but many of these tourists are Japanese, so it makes good people watching. People visit the temple to offer prayers and purchase charms. I love arriving in Asakusa late in the afternoon, so I can experience its transformation as the day shifts into twilight. As darkness settles in, lights come on to brighten walkways and give the temple and gates a more dramatic mood.

Here's a great resource on the sites of Asakusa, edited by a resident: Asakusa Samurai.

Dinner at Home with Zakkokumai (Mixed Grain Rice)

For a couple of lazy sisters wanting to just hang at home and watch movies, the supermarkets here provide hundreds of healthful, ready-made options for dinner. Seriously, if I lived here I'd probably never cook again. Who needs to when you can get just-made seaweed salads, dozens of pickled things, tempura, musubi and sashimi to take home?

The hit of this particular meal in the photo was the mixed grain rice (in the white bowl), which we prepared by adding a packaged mix of seventeen kinds of grains, seeds and beans. Included were quinoa, amaranth, sesame seeds, azuki - you name it. The cooked mixture had a pleasant grainy texture and complex, nutty flavor. This type of rice seems to have gained popularity recently and is called zakkokumai. Here's some more info on zakkokumai on this great Japanese food site, Just Hungry.

I'm bringing some packets of this grain/seed mix back to the States.

The Scent of a City

The first condition of understanding a foreign country is to smell it. - Rudyard Kipling

Recently I was invited to a wine tasting in San Francisco where I encountered many rare and old vintages over the course of a long, five-hour dinner. My tolerance for this type of event generally starts running thin around the second hour, and my mind was starting to wander, desperate for escape. Then a wine was poured that woke all of my senses on the first taste. It was something old and French, I no longer remember what. All I know is, that particular bottle of wine smelled exactly like a rainy day in Tokyo.

It was beguiling and baffling, how so many memories were stirred by that one whiff of fermented grape juice. I continued swirling and sniffing and sipping with eyes closed, nose jammed halfway in my glass, feeling as if a magic vintner had found a way to bottle the essence of Tokyo itself. In an instant I was transported - as if I'd dropped into a space/time warp. I was younger, and I smelled the wet pavement, felt my feet walking on its slick surface, breathed the musty moist air. Then all my senses kicked in as I heard the noise of traffic, the whoosh of tires on slick asphalt, voices chattering in Japanese, felt droplets of warm summer rain cling to my skin, the sea of umbrellas bobbing before me, the anticipation of the night ahead, and detected the hint of food being grilled, fried, broiled wafting from back streets, mingled with cigarettes, exhaust and the verdant cologne of someone I once knew.

These are smells embedded in my being from many years ago, and inseparable from the soul of the city itself and from my experience of it. This part of my experience of Tokyo - its scent - has been so impactful that the first sentence of my novel starts out talking about it.

I kept swirling and sipping that wine, oblivious to the twenty others gathered around the big table. Then I noticed nobody else was drinking the wine because to most of the others at that party, the wine was simply corked, over the hill and barely drinkable. So that's what Tokyo smells like, at least to me: corked French wine. A mix of fruit and decay, old and new, asphalt and greenery, bitter and sweet. I savored every sip of it, pitying the others for not having access to the same space/time machine in their own glasses.

Yugafu Okinawan Izakaya in Meguro

Our counter seat at Yugafu.

Earthenware jugs of aged awamori.

Jimami dofu - tofu made from peanuts.
I also loved the illo on the chopstick enclosure saying "kanpai" - cheers.

Umi-budo - "sea grapes," pop-in-your-mouth delicious
sea vegetable served with a ponzu dipping sauce.

Goya champru - bittermelon stir-fry, and mimi-gaa in the background
- pig's ears in vinegary sweet miso sauce.

Parts of the pig used in various dishes.

Tulip - a commonly used Spam substitute in Okinawa.

Okinawa is known for its distinctive, rough-hewn pottery.

The best fake goya I've ever seen on display.

Niheidebiru means "thank you" in the Okinawan dialect -
sounds nothing like domo arigato.

Almost as soon as I arrived from the airport, Penny took me out for my first dinner. We went to a cozy and casual Okinawan restaurant in Meguro called Yugafu, which means "paradise." After traveling for half a day it really was like a delicious slice of paradise in this welcoming basement space. The place was lively with customers, friendly staff and Okinawan music.

We tried such standard dishes as goya champru and umi-budo (see pix), which was some of the best I've had - a generous portion of beautifully formed clusters. Everything was delicious, but one of the stand-out dishes was the freebie appetizer of jimami dofu - a tofu made from peanuts. This was outstanding - soft and creamy but with some density and a slightly gelatinous texture like mochi, and a mild, sweet flavor.

For drinks: we tried some shikwasaa sours (shikwasaa is an Okinawa citrus fruit used in many beverages and recipes), and of course I had to have some of my beloved Zampa awamori, crafted near my mom's hometown of Yomitan.

Yugafu is near the Meguro JR station, tel: 03.3444.6839. Highly recommended.

Back in Shirokanedai

Like last time, I started off my Tokyo visit by staying for a few days with my sister Penny in Shirokanedai. Shirokanedai is an upscale residential neighborhood in Minato-ku, right near Meguro. Residents of this area are sometimes jokingly called Shiroganeeze (like Milanese for residents in Milan).

Except for one day of briefly passing typhhon, the weather has been warm and mostly clear, so I've been very lucky. Autumn is just starting to change the leaves and walking has been very enjoyable. I spent more time roaming the quiet back streets of this area and saw many large homes and well-maintained gardens and parks.

Here are a few photos of Shirokanedai and Penny's apartment.

In Tokyo

So here I am, no longer experiencing it in dreamtime but in "real" time. I've been here for ten days, so I have three days left. I haven't been able to write more than half a page or even write any blog posts. Too many distractions, a million things to do/see/eat/explore/photograph. Keep telling myself, all for the sake of research...it will ferment in my head as I slowly digest it all, then it'll come out in a huge outpouring when I return to California.

But as I tell myself this voices of doubt have started to seep through the cracks of my story. Forget about it, the novel no longer makes sense. You don't even know why you're writing it or what it's about, do you? Move on to something new. Give it up.

Sometimes those doubts enable me to look at the novel from a new perspective, and as it evolves, it takes on new and surprising directions. The trick is to let myself go for a ride and see where it takes me, but don't get lost in the process. And keep thinking about the ultimate destination.

Omiyage (Souvenirs) from Japan

Some gifts my sister brought last week when visiting from Tokyo.


A lovely kit for creating your own nioi-bukuro, or scent sachets to place in a drawer. It's called "kaori-asobi," literally "scent play," suggesting time spent in enjoyment experimenting with these various fragrances.


Inside the kaori-asobi kit. There is a small lacquer bowl and spoon for mixing, a fabric nioi-bukuro and string tie, and ten exotic aromas for creating your own aromatherapy experience.


Fragrances in the kaori-asobi kit include my favorite sandalwood, as well as star anise and others.


Sake from Hokkaido wrapped in a reusable furoshiki cloth. The bottle within was also a snow-white, and the sake was exquisite. Furoshiki are traditional decorative cloths used in wrapping and offering gifts. Generally the gift is presented, opened, then the furoshiki is kept by the gift-giver for multiple reuse. My mother still has furoshiki that I remember her using back when I was three years old in Okinawa (it had a 60's-style mod polka-dot pattern and a zip closure). It's the ultimate eco-friendly gift-wrap. Penny tells me it's in again.


Unagi! Or broiled eel. These packages are heated by placing in boiling water. Add the accompanying sauce and sprinkle with sansho, then place on top of hot rice. Yum.


Furikake, condiments to sprinkle on rice. These types of seasonings are in every household and come in endless varieties.


My new favorite snack - flavored nori. This is part of a set of eight tins, each containing super-thin and crispy nori strips sandwiched together with different flavorings. Ebi (shrimp), uni (sea urchin), goma (sesame seed), etc.


For the Japanese, the practice of giving omiyage (souvenirs) is ingrained practically from birth. It's just something you do without question - if you go away on a trip, you are expected to bring back token gifts for family/friends/coworkers. It's part of the wide-ranging, ongoing tradition of giving and receiving gifts in Japanese culture.

Omiyage are often representative of the area you visited, so in Japan this might be a certain type of locally made condiment, sake or sweets. Food is a common thing to bring back, but I've noticed when traveling overseas, nihonjin often purchase anything available at the Duty Free shop - brand name goods, liquor, perfume. The point is, you don't go back empty handed, and it really doesn't matter if it's a token, mass-produced item from a souvenir shop or something more extravagant. The gesture and the thought is more significant than the item itself.

When extended overseas visits to family are involved, the omiyage-giving endeavor becomes a little more complex. You generally ask your family outright if they want something specific, or they make requests. For my sisters in Tokyo, that generally means schlepping back American chocolate (See's, Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, Ghirardelli), California wine, microwave popcorn, vitamins, and something trendy/fashionable like accessories, small purses and make-up. The bounty (and my luggage size) grows as my parents and other sister in the States add to the omiyage.

But I know during my Tokyo visit my sisters' friends will extend their hospitality towards me in some way, so I should have extra omiyage. Then you never know who else might end up doing you a favor, so I have to pack the back-up omiyage of San Francisco T-shirts and so forth. This may sound like a ridiculous amount of planning and expense just for a short vacation, but trust me, these omiyage will be reciprocated when I leave, and also, when my sisters come to visit me in the States.

On my last trip to Tokyo, I decided the omiyage was getting out of control when I found myself hand-carrying a panini maker for my friend Masa - but on a previous visit to the States he'd brought me an antique stationery box, so I kind of owed him. Then I'd designated an entire suitcase for other gifts including an Akira Kurosawa Criterion Collection DVD set, several bottles of wine and six cans of Spam for my oldest sister Myrah (yes, it's considered a treat over there, and it's expensive).

I need to find smaller, lighter gifts for my upcoming trip. Ideas, anyone? Starbucks gift cards? Maybe high-end T-shirts for everybody this time. But then again...when my sis Penny visited with her husband Masao last week, I really scored on the goods! See my photos above.

One thing for sure: Japanese gifts are far superior when it comes to packaging and presentation. They make Stateside souvenirs look like stuff from Schlock City, U.S.A. I always feel I have to gift-wrap mine before offering them to Japanese recipients.

Wafrica: A Dialogue with Japanese Culture

The overused term "fusion" to describe attempts at merging two or more cultures often brings to mind uninspired surf and turf dishes laden with wasabi sauce, or symbol-heavy art incorporating an awkward mishmash of design elements.

Once in a while, however, this type of cultural blending produces something sophisticated, inspiring and truly unique, such as French-Cameroonian designer Serge Mouangue's stunning kimonos. I'll let the fabulous Wafrica website speak for itself - check it out here, and make sure sound is on so you can enjoy the soundtrack. Regarding the name Wafrica: I couldn't find any info to confirm this, but I'm assuming it's a merging of "wafu" (Japanese style) and "Africa."

There is an upcoming event on October 3 featuring Mouangue's designs at the French Institute of Culture in Tokyo (alas, I won't be in Tokyo at that time). Review the event description on 101TOKYO's Facebook invite page. There will be a fashion show, tea ceremony, dance and drum performance, all inspired by the Wafrica aesthetic.

What really struck a chord with me were Mouangue's thoughts about merging African and Japanese elements to create his designs. As quoted from the Wafrica site: "In response to the argument that globalization may rob us of our cultural identity, a conversation between two ancient, strong and sophisticated identities: Japan and Africa. The conversation is about the beauty of weaving the strands of our stories together."

And, from 101TOKYO's blurb about the October 3 fashion event: ‘‘In 2007, I experimented with Japanese kimono by producing them with African fabrics...after showing them to Japanese audiences, many people felt the resulting garment existed beyond boundaries – it was neither Japanese nor African, it was part of a heretofore unknown world, a 'third aesthetic'.’’

This meshes with my thoughts about identifying myself as a hapa (half Japanese or Asian). This is putting it much less elegantly, but to quote the protagonist in my novel Elephant Girl: "Being half wasn’t just about being different looking. I was different, I felt different. I wasn’t just Japanese, I wasn’t just white, I was a mix of both, which is something else entirely. I mean, you mix blue and red and you get purple, right?”

Merci to the Institut franco-japonais de Tokyo for use of the photo.

Author Khanh Ha Blogs About Elephant Girl

A few months ago I had the good fortune to connect with Khanh Ha, an author who just signed with Seattle's Black Heron Press to publish his latest literary novel entitled FLESH. He has been generous with his time, encouragement and feedback on my writing, and now I'm overjoyed to share that he's been kind enough to mention my novel-in-progress Elephant Girl on his blog. Read about it here.

While you're on Khanh's blog, be sure to check out his many excellent posts covering wide-ranging topics. I particularly love his post on passion and writing, which you can read here, or some of the tantalizing glimpses of his evocative fiction, such as my favorite little macabre piece, "Dear, Oh Dear!"