Show Me the Way To Go Home

Tokyo-Atlanta

August 14, 2019

As I write this I’m sitting at a table overlooking the runways of Narita Airport outside (way outside) of Tokyo. As per usual, all passengers leaving the ship are off by 9 or 9:30. It’s 62 miles from the dock to the airport, about 1-1/2 hours. By the time we got there, got checked in, went through security and immigration it was nearly noon. Our flight isn’t until 4:30 this afternoon so we have plenty of dawdle time. The Delta Sky Lounge food is, surprise, surprise, Japanese which I’ve discovered I don’t really like. I’m sorely tempted to blow my remaining Yen at the McDonald’s downstairs.

It’s been a good trip, but we’re ready to get home to our one floor, no stairs apartment. Which is also a no maid, no cook, no laundress apartment. Jim is already planning to head down to Florida asap but I’m sure it’ll take me a good week or two to catch up on things.

Squid Ink Ice Cream

Hakodate, Japan

August 12, 2019

Hakodate is also on the northern island of Hokkaido near the southern tip. As we enter the port there are dozens of freighters waiting to enter and sleek ferries heading to Aomori in Northern Honshu. There is now an underwater tunnel connecting the two islands with a bullet train going to and from Tokyo, otherwise going to or from Hokkaido is by ferry or airplane.

Hakodate is the first port that was opened to foreigners in the 1800s. It was also the last stand of the samurai warriors when the emperor became ruler. Its history makes it a popular vacation spot for Japanese.

August 15th is the traditional day that Japanese head home to visit the graves of their relatives. It’s not an official holiday but because it is also during the school summer vacation, many take the week off. That explains why there are so many Japanese out and about, obviously on holiday. 

We spent the morning going first to the Morning Market, a beehive of 100s of shops selling fresh seafood and produce, cooked food, ice cream—lots of ice cream—and probably anything else your heart would desire. Hakodate is the center of the squid fishing industry so you can buy squid live, squid noodles, cooked squid , squid-flavored popcorn and squid ink ice cream. I had to try that. It’s a dark grey color but tastes like vanilla and like all Japanese ice cream is delicious. We stumbled upon Kit Kat bars in a little convenience store in the midst of the market. I snapped up bags of green tea, strawberry ice cream and cookies and cream filled Kit Kats. I’m beginning to wonder if the wasabi-filled Kit Kat is an urban myth.

Boy, do the Japanese like sweets. There are candy shops everywhere and at least one aisle of candy in any other store. Many are sold in beautifully wrapped boxes, perfect for a gift. Also perfect for a gift? Fresh fruit. It’s all gorgeous, beautifully wrapped and displayed and unbelievably expensive. We saw a bunch of large, perfect green grapes for $40! Melons ranged from 35 to 50 dollars a piece. It all made Whole Foods look like a discount store. I will never complain about the price of produce again. When we remarked about the cost, our guide, Sodoko, said they would rather pay a lot for something exquisite and delicious that not much for not much. For instance, she loves sushi, but only good sushi. She and her family go out for sushi maybe three times a year and almost always as a celebration for a birthday, job promotion or school award. We thought it best not to tell her about American supermarket sushi. She would have been horrified.

The sun is out and the persistent overcast has burned away; a perfect day to ride The Ropeway (aerial cable car) to the top of Mt. Hakodate (9800’). It’s maybe a three minute ride, 80 people to a car, above the tree tops to the summit. From there you can really see the shape and size of the city. It was built on what was a sand bar that formed between the mainland and an island so it has the sea on both sides. We could spot the Maasdam across the commercial port.

Our last stop was at the Red Brick Warehouse district. 30 or so years ago this area was redeveloped into a center for shopping, dining and fun. It’s right on the waterfront and was also swarming with people. We hit pay dirt in one shop—souvenirs, fabric and chocolate Kit Kats, We passed on sending our great nieces and nephews reproduction, child-size samurai swords. Your welcome, parents of said children.

Because of the impending typhoon tracking towards southern and western Japan, the Captain moved our departure time up from 10 pm to 3:30 pm. He’s gotten permission to land early in Yokohama so it’s full speed ahead to get there by midnight on Tuesday instead of Wednesday morning. That way we will be safe in the harbor away from the wind and swells of the storm. The ship started to move up and down as soon as we hit the open sea. It’s not choppy, just long rolling waves, one right after another. Time to secure our stuff and keep one hand for the ship.

Set ‘em up, Joe-San

Otaru, Japan

August 11, 2019

It took a couple of days to get here. Actually it was one sea day to Korsakov, Russia and then overnight to Otaru on the northernmost Japanese island, Hokkaido.

The night before we arrived in Korsakov the Captain warned us that it was a tender port (the harbor is much too shallow for the Maasdam), we had to anchor 1-1/2 miles offshore so a long tender ride and the residual effects of the typhoon might make it too rough for the tenders. We hadn’t planned to go ashore anyway. The shore descriptions had key words like Lenin Square, folkloric performance, traditional Russian tales plus we were told that tourists were rare here so don’t expect much. Well, doesn’t that just make you want to ante up a couple hundred bucks for a couple of hours?

This being Russia, there were officials and procedures. We had handed over our passports earlier so they could be inspected and visas issued. It took hours to clear the ship so all the tours were delayed, some by as much as two hours. My knitting friend, Lynnette,the officer’s wife, had been drafted to be a bus guide. This means she was given a script to read as the bus visited various sites. It was also her job to get everyone back on the bus. Included in her packet was a “Guide Evaluation.” The knitters filled it out for her before she left. Command of English: Very Good. Knowledge of local history: sketchy. Demeanor: Pleasant and cheerful.

Yesterday was a sea day, but for Jim and me, staying on board today, this was like another sea day. We kicked back and did as little as possible. Later that evening we had dinner with our Australian friend Phil. He and his wife had gone ashore but he said it was a marathon to get there. Genevieve’s passport was misfiled by the ship so that involved a lot of scrambling to find it and then the gauntlet of immigration and the long tender ride. However, when they did get ashore, at every stop there were people wearing special yellow shirts to assist the visitors. So much for they weren’t ready for tourists.  Phil said Genevieve was “stuffed” so wasn’t joining us for dinner. I saw her the next morning and she said she needed a little quiet time. Understand.

The best thing to happen? To get back to Japanese time the ship’s clocks will be set back TWO hours tonight. The serving crew is pumped. Party time downstairs tonight.

And now, Otaru. Jim chose our destination, the Nikka Whisky Distillery, tour and tasting. However, because our last port was Russian, we were re-entering Japan and despite being finger printed, photographed and issued 90 day Visas before, we had to go through the entire dance again. Last time, all passengers going on an excursion or private tour were processed first so there wouldn’t be delays. This time we found ourselves in line for a good hour with people whose only plans were to go ashore later and just poke around. 

Despite the delays, our tour got off close to the appropriate time. Our guide is Mr. Homma-San, a congenial guy with a snappy hat and ready smile. We thought the distillery was in Sapporo, but instead was an hour drive up country to Yoichi. This place gets a lot of snow every winter, from six meters at sea level up to ten meters in the mountains. There seem to be more houses than apartment buildings, mainly duplexes, triplexes or four-plexes. Outside every one of them is a big rectangular container on stilts with a coiled tube running into the ground. Too small for water, wrong shape and material for propane so we had to ask Mr. Homma-San. Kerosene tank. Electricity and natural gas are very expensive so they use kerosene for heat. The tube runs underground and then up to a heater in the main living room. He also told us that when he was a child they burned wood for heat. He would go with his mother to a lumber yard and gather the scraps and bark, put them in a wagon and take them home. Eventually they converted to coal and now kerosene. Energy source is a constant concern here. Japan imports 98% of their petroleum products.

For an area with so much snow, the roof profiles were interesting. The peaked roofs all had either long wooden sticks or pipes on the shingles, parallel with the eaves to prevent snow “avalanches.” But there were also a vast number of buildings with flat roofs. Mr. Homma-San explained that they had a dip in the center. The warmth of the building melts the snow. The resulting water flows into the dip and then down a pipe into the sewer system. Well, whaddaya know.

The distillery complex is a very popular tourist destination, especially during the school holidays in August. The distillery was founded in 1934 by a Japanese man who had visited Scotland and noted the similarities in climate and resources in Yoichi. He brought a Scottish bride back and the two of them established a successful business and lifestyle.

We wandered around looking in the various buildings and museums before we got to the main attraction, the tasting room. A big place and so Japanese-efficient. You hand the receptionist your tasting ticket and she hands you a small tray. You then walk past the samples, taking one glass of each and then go sit at one of the many tables to taste and enjoy. We tried a single malt, blended whiskey and an apple wine (they grow lots of apples around here). It was about 1:30 pm, nothing to eat since breakfast at 8. Even small samples, about two sips each, make one’s cheeks rosey. I bought some whiskey chocolate and smoked nuts for the ride back in the big and bustling gift shop while Jim found me a giant ice ball making gizmo. I can hardly wait to try it at home!

And back down to the harbor area. Along the way Mr. Homma-San solved another mystery that’s been on my mind since we first set foot in Japan. Every sidewalk has a 12” wide strip of slightly raised ovals that run along the entire length of the walkway. At every corner is another strip with raised dots. Did this divide the sidewalk between pedestrians and bicycle riders? Are you supposed to walk on the left side? Is it just pretty? Nope. It is for blind people with canes. They can follow the ovals along the sidewalk with both cane and through the bottom of their feet. The dots at the corners give them a warning of a street and possible traffic. Well, I never thought of that. In two weeks the only blind person with cane that I have seen is a passenger on this ship.

A canal runs through Otaru. It’s only 20 meters wide, so is just for small pleasure craft and tour boats, but it is the landmark for the shopping area. Our bus stopped in the bus parking lot and then we followed Mr. Homma-San through the Venetian Glass Gallery building and onto Sakamachi Street. It’s a very narrow street jammed with restaurants, shops and food stalls AND people. This is an informal holiday week in Japan and I think they are all either at the Distillery or on Sakamachi Street. Jim and I spent an hour in and out of many of them without finding anything we wanted to take back to ship or States. The restaurants and food stalls all have pictures of their wares but sometimes even that doesn’t help. I really just wanted a salty snack (it was now after 3) so we plunged into a souvenir/grocery store that had samples of what was in the bags. I settled on what I can only describe as a Japanese Cheeto but pale with green flecks rather than the orange dust. Who knows what was in them, but they tasted great. My search also continued for the fabled Japanese Kit Kat bars filled with many flavors. No such luck.

On board it’s the last Gala Night of the cruise. This time there were several ladies in kimonos. Now we learned the other day that kimonos are notoriously tricky to put on, especially the Obi (sash). It takes months to learn to do it correctly. All of those on the ship looked perfect so I’m guessing that the sashes must have been pre-tied with hooks sort of like a pre-tied bow tie. They all looked splendid and many were having photos taken by the onboard photographers. I’m imagining a lot of photo Christmas cards...Jim and I donned our spiffy duds and had a great dinner in the Pinnacle Grill. Would that we had that restaurant down the street from us in Kennesaw instead of Del Taco.

Just as we left Otaru and the Taiko drum show on the pier with Bon Voyage banner and waving crowds the Captain made an announcement that another typhoon was bearing down on Southern Japan with landfall expected on August 14th. This one has some very high winds  and very tall swells so he is changing tomorrow’s schedule in Hakodate, our last port. Instead of leaving at 10 pm, we will leave at 3:30 and go full bore to Yokohama, arriving at midnight on the 14th instead of 7 am on the 15th. We might have some seas and wind but will be safe in the harbor before the big stuff hits. Most everyone has a flight home on the 15th, so we are quite happy to get to Yokohama early.

Today’s Phrase That Pays spotted on some nondescript office building in Otaru: “Restore all your functions.” I haven’t a clue.

KABOOM!

Vladivostok, Russia

August 8, 2019

The Captain’s concerns about disturbing us both as we powered along at 20 knots and then arriving at our berth In Vladivostok were unnecessary. As we went along I looked out and saw what I thought were giant fireflies but turned out to be some kind of sea gull, flying along next to us, its white feathers reflecting the ship’s lights. Although I was awake and reading, I didn’t even realize that we had reached our destination until I looked out the balcony door and saw the lights defining a very tall, very long bridge which we must have crossed under to reach the dock.

Welcome to Vladivostok!

It’s a bit rainy and a lot humid but it’s 74 degrees out! 25 degrees cooler than Japan. Good thing because we’re going on a three-hour “stroll” through the city. Once again, the starboard side is facing the city while we’re looking out at the harbor. When we got up to the Lido for breakfast and saw the city we thought, uh oh! Vladivostok is called the San Francisco of western Russia and now we know why. It’s hilly, and how. Closer reading of our excursion description and in italics, “Long inclines and some steps. Must be able to keep up with the group.” Put on those new tennies, do a couple of knee bends and we’re off. 

Well, we’re in Russia which means there will be officials. First we collect our passports from the ship, then our cruise card is scanned at the gangway (S.O.P.) and then our passport is shown to a local official also on the gangway. All is good and we’re off.

Each group of ten has a guide and an assistant who carries a sign with your group number and makes sure that no one gets lost or left behind. Our guide, Anna, is a a beautiful red head from Vladivostok. Her assistant, Alexandra, is a young university student in St. Petersburg who is spending the summer here with relatives. There are at least ten groups of ten; we’re constantly crossing paths so it’s easy to latch on to #7 group instead of our #3. Alexandra is busy. I told her that in American cross country foot races, there is always an official “sweeper” who runs behind the pack to make sure that they all stay on the course, so she was our “sweeper.” She loved that. Her English is very good, which might be a combination of schooling and location. Years ago when we were in St. P, every young Russian was studying English and most anxious to try it out on any English-speaking tourist. Anna’s was a bit harder to understand, but her English was a thousand times better than our Russian! It almost is for the better because it requires you to pay more attention to her. 

The vaunted station at the end of the Trans Siberian Railway is just across the street from the ship. When I was studying Russian those 40 or 50 years ago my goal was to take the train from Moscow to Vladivostok. I’m not quite sure how, when or why I gave up on the idea. Anna showed us pictures of the interior of the station. For some reason we were not allowed inside. In fact, Alexandra told me she had never been inside. Perhaps a Russian thing; who knows. Anna said the journey across the country took nine days on the train and I don’t think one travels in style comparable to the Orient Express. I do like my creature comforts. Maybe that’s why I never took that trip.

Besides being the end of the railway, Vladivostok is also the busiest port in Russian. The harbor is huge, lined with an endless series of commercial docks. The streets of the city are bustling. Cars, buses, pedestrians. Everyone driving or walking at a mad pace. This morning when we arrived I switched on the Google Map app on my phone and searched for Vladivostok. The street map popped up and immediately it was covered with those yellow and red dots that indicate traffic jams. I can’t help but remember those pictures from the 60s and 70s of grand Russian boulevards with just a handful of cars. Boy, are those days over!

Just as in Petropavlovsk, the streets and parking lots are jammed with cars...Toyotas for sure, plus other Japanese and Korean brands. The Russian-made cars are few and far between. There are electric street cars plus taxis and some airport-parking-lot-shuttle sized buses. And everyone drives at a full tilt! And no one is especially interested in red traffic lights or pedestrian cross walks. All senses are alert! And for the first time we saw lots of people (generally 30 and younger) with cell phones in hand. The “kids” dress like westerners and act like them, too.

Vladivostok is a combination of older, elegant buildings from the early 1900s when it became an international port, Soviet Bloc-style apartment buildings and contemporary high rises. A lot of the older buildings look a little worn, but not the Potemkin village false fronts that we saw all over Cuba. Lots of restaurants serving every cuisine—Russian, Chinese, Pizza, hamburgers, even a Cinnabon! 

One of their favorite sons is Yul Brinner. There is a statue of him as the King from “The King and I” in front of the former home of his grandparents, now the offices of a shipping company. And it was right next door to a massive four story building of the same era that I think is also offices and across the street from a modern high rise called “The White House,” where the government offices are located. It’s all a wonderful blend of old and new. It’s nice to see that the older buildings are still standing and being used.

We walked up the inclines and then across town past the soccer stadium to the bay and shoreline devoted to pleasure craft, carnival rides and a nice broad path along the waterfront. There is even a yacht club. The times they are a changin’. Some people were swimming in the bay so we asked Anna if the water wasn’t cold but she said, “No, very warm.” Then someone asked, “How ‘bout in the winter?” Her reply: “Ice!”

There was a huge pedestrian plaza with a massive fountain and dancing waters coordinated with music. It was a work day, so it was mostly tourists taking all this in. Then Anna swept us towards the “some steps” we were warned about. A big, long stairway up from the shoreline to the street. Thank heavens we’ve been taking the stairs on the ship since day one. That was a lot of “some steps.” 

We eventually returned to the main part of the city to spend some time in a museum of the history of the area. In one display was a very large, clunky typewriter with a Cyrillic keyboard. Someone asked Anna if it had a special significance so she started to tell us how a typewriter worked, acting out putting the paper in and rolling it into place and then explaining how hard it was to correct a mistake. It was a wonderful performance and I think she was a bit startled when I told her we were all old enough to remember using typewriters. She got a big kick out of that. We all felt older than dirt!

Somebody in Russian Urban Planning went to Disneyland because all tours end in a three story souvenir shop! Two floors of souvenirs and the bottom floor is a grocery store and antique store. The grocery store had a wide selection of Russian vodkas plus snacks and candy. On display in the antique store? An old, portable typewriter with Cyrillic keyboard. So tempted but we had a grand total of only 1000 Rubles, about fifteen bucks.

So much activity swirling around us as we walked back to the ship; such a difference from the quiet streets in Japan. Unlike Japan, though, the dock area is restricted to passengers only. Damp (it rained on and off) and weary we were back on board around 11:30. Jim went downstairs to hand our passports back in while I was on our balcony looking at the three, armed with missiles, Navy warships parked next to us when, KABOOM! My heart did indeed skip a beat until I realized it was the Noon Gun. This harbor seems to be the home of Russia’s Pacific Fleet. We’re guessing that the subs were out counting the North Korean missiles that flew overhead. 

We had a quiet evening, skipping the Mentalist in the Showroom.

A sea day tomorrow en route to another Russian port. Although we took refuge from Francisco’s wrath coming to Vladivostok, the Captain has told us that the storm is still viable, heading towards Hakodate, our last Japanese port before returning to Yokohama. He’s anticipating a bouncy ride tomorrow. We don’t have anything to do tomorrow until 11:15 so I’m anticipating a lazy morning.

Gardens, Geishas and Missiles

Kanazawa, Japan

August 6, 2009

I missed most of the cruising of Kanmon Strait, the narrow passage between Honshu and Kyushu Islands, because it happened too early. I must be the only senior citizen ever who does not get up at dawn. Jim, who does get up at dawn if not before, said the shoreline was a mixture of commercial, residential and beaches.  The Captain said we would now power along the dramatic coastline to our destination, Kanazawa which is straight across Central Honshu from Tokyo. And what did we see? Nothing. The marine layer settled in and once again we can’t see a thing. Oh, well, out of Francisco’s path and those 12 meter swells.

But not out of the unrelenting heat. It looks like we’re in for more of it in Kanazawa.

According to my guide book, Kanazawa  was shielded from outside influences because of its location. For the 300 years between 1583 and the 1800s it was under the firm rule of the Maeda lords. While most of Japan was unstable, this area became the richest domain in the country, the wealth encouraging cultural development. Ironically, this lack of industry meant it escaped bombing during WWII.

It is also the location of Kenroku-en Garden, one of the Japanese “great three” gardens. Established in 1603 it was originally the outer garden of the Kanazawa Castle, home of the Maeda lord. However it was all destroyed by fire in 1759. Mitsui, today’s guide, explained that this area is notorious for thunderstorms in the winter so many buildings are hit by lightning. The Castle is on the highest point in the city so was its very own lightning rod. Today only the walls and the main gate of the castle remain, but over the centuries the various Lords kept tweaking the garden until it became the strolling-style landscape that it is today.

Kenroku-en Garden means “garden of six qualities,” desirable in Chinese gardens: spaciousness, seclusion, air of antiquity, ingenuity, flowing water and views. It’s 25 acres close to the center of the city, but once you walk up the steep path from the street, suddenly you’re aware of only the lush green beauty all around you. We only had an hour, but just by walking around the main pond (more lake-sized than pond) you could check off all of the desirable qualities. Nothing was blooming in mid-August, but there was every shade of green and every texture. Look in any direction and the view was compelling. 

As before Mitsui steers us towards little cafes or vending machines for water. It’s 99 today, “feels like” the hinges of Hell. One of the cafes in the garden also featured Shave Ice and ice cream. I was all set for a bowl of shave ice with melon or mango, but that was only for in-cafe dining so I stepped over to the ice cream line delighted to find soft serve green tea. In the interest of science I continued my green tea ice cream survey. Still delicious! Definitely miles above Halo Green Tea with Tapioca. 

At one time there were hundreds and hundreds of samurai living in the area. All of their houses were destroyed when the feudal system was also replaced leaving just the old gate and wall that was around the ancient houses. We visited a reproduction of the house of the Nomura family. It looks just as you’d imagine—floors covered in grass mats (we had to remove our shoes before entering), rooms separated by sliding paper doors and everywhere beautiful landscape drawings. There isn’t any furniture in the house, but that would have been minimal in any case; futons for sleeping that were rolled up during the day, wooden trays for food that would’ve been stacked elsewhere when not in use and simple boxes for their clothes, just a few kimonos. Although the house isn’t original, the garden is. It’s as if the Kenroku-en Garden had been miniaturized and placed inside the walls of the property. It has all of those elements and is highly honored as such. 

Our last stop, the Geisha district. At one time there were dozens of Geisha houses, but now there are just three with a total of thirty or so Geishas. They are still highly trained and educated to sing, dance, play an instrument and converse with intelligence and wit. They are not prostitutes. The men who visit the Geishas are a select group. You must be invited by one of them. Traditionally the men are billed twice a year by the Geisha houses. If one of them invited someone and that person doesn’t pay his bill, the inviter must cover his charges. The visits last just 90 minutes. Mitsui said any longer than that, the men would  have had too much to drink and would behave badly. She giggled as she told us that so who knows if it’s true, 

What I do know is that the Geisha district is just a bunch of narrow streets with souvenir shops and ice cream shops that sell cones cover with gold leaf. Not at all worth the time and walk in the mid-afternoon heat.

Mitsui has three adult children. Her two daughters are married and both teach English. Her son is 28 and still living at home. She said he has a good job but no girlfriend. Traditionally adult children stay at home until they marry, with Mom fixing their meals and doing their laundry. Many groans from the moms on the bus. Mitsui said she was ready for her son to leave and didn’t anyone know any eligible young women in Japan?

Absolutely whipped, we didn’t get back to the ship until nearly 4 o’clock. Waiting in #117, a full ice bucket and several liters of Evian. Time to re-hydrate and shower before dinner. Tonight an all-female Japanese Taiko Drumming group is performing, a nice change from the “try hard” Vegas lounge singers that seem to be on every cruise. The drumming group was amazing! Physically they were all petite women but, girls got guns! They hit those drums at a frantic pace for close to 45 minutes. What a good way to drive away any frustrations. I wish they could stay with us for another show but we’re leaving Japan tonight.

Because we’re leaving Japan we have to once again have a mandatory face to passport inspection by Japanese immigration officials. Once you’ve gone through the process you cannot leave the ship even though we’re in port until 10 pm. So we dutifully line up, have our ship cards scanned then passport inspected and visa (we were given 3-month visas when we got to Japan) stamped with the exit date and then hand over our passports to the ship’s representative so the Russian officials can inspect them before we go ashore in Vladivostok, two days hence. 

Plus Francisco is still out there getting ready to curve around and head northeast over Kanazawa. As soon as all passengers have been cleared by Japanese immigration and the drummers are off the ship, we are leaving, about 10:30 pm. 

Tomorrow is a sea day. We are scheduled to dock in Vladivostok at 6 am on Thursday. Instead, the Captain has gotten permission to arrive at midnight, Wednesday so we can take shelter from the storm. To cover the distance, all engines are running at full tilt, averaging 20 knots per hour. He apologized for any vibration we might feel en route and the noise that will accompany our docking procedure but it is nothing compared to what we’d encounter if we didn’t outrun the storm.

Oh, we’re also going between Japan and North Korea tonight. CNN informed us that the latter have been shooting off “test” missiles again. Well, that will give us something to watch for tomorrow.

We’re outta here!

Kochi, Japan

Sunday, August 4, 2019

This morning we were escorted into the harbor by a tugboat shooting plumes of water from the water guns on its deck. The ship is tied up with port side next to the dock so because we are on the starboard side we can’t see what’s happening ashore. Like Takamatsu, Kochi is also on Shikoku Island, but on the south side. And like Takamatsu, Kochi is also rural with small farms of rice and citrus and countless greenhouses where vegetables are grown.

The population of Japan is in a decline. One third of the people are over 65 with lifespans for men and women in the 80s. This demographic shift is felt even more in the rural and farming prefectures. Education is mandatory through junior high then 90% of the children continue on to high school. After that 50% attend university. These educated people do not want to return to the farm, they prefer working in Tokyo or one of the other big cities where there is more opportunity, wages are higher and, let’s face it, there’s more to do. When they do marry and have children it is usually one or maybe two not the larger families of generations past. Every guide we’ve had in Japan has talked about this and mentioned that studies are being done but no solutions yet.

We drove along the shoreline for a while—-volcanic sand and many man-made rock jetties to help hold the sand. Not too many people about to enjoy it. We also saw signs for tsunami shelters. KZ, today’s guide, explained that in Japan, earthquakes and tsunamis are inevitable so they are prepared. The tsunami shelters look like three or four story square buildings on stilts. They, like some of the condominium buildings, are reinforced to withstand an earthquake and raised above ground to stay above a tsunami wave. She said there are sirens and also warning systems that automatically dial area cell phones. The procedure is to take shelter and cover your head during the earthquake (any of you who grew up in Calfornia probably remember being taught in school, in case of earthquake get under your desk. As I recall this “duck and cover” was also supposed to protect us from a nuclear bomb) and then immediately get to a tsunami shelter. KZ told us drills were held regularly so everyone would know what to do in case of a real event.

We headed up into the hills. Like the rest of Japan, this island is 80% mountains. We passed through small villages with larger rice paddies and more single family homes. KZ said she tried to buy a house with small garden in Kochi but land is scarce and expensive in Japan so she settled instead for a condominium. 

Side note. We’ve seen this all over Japan—most apartments/condos have a small balcony which seems to be dedicated to drying laundry. Instead of clotheslines, they have metal pipes used as closet poles either attached to the building or free-standing like a temporary clothes rack you get at Bed, Bath and Beyond. My observation is that the wet clothes are put on hangars and then the hangars go on the poles on the balcony until dry. 

Back to our day. About a 45 minute drive up along the Niyodo River which isn’t deep but is clear and clean and lovely. The shores are made of small rocks and sand. There are pockets of people as we drove by camping, canoeing, swimming and fishing. Japan is still in the grips of a heat wave, so that river looked so cool and inviting. But our mission: paper making!

I’ll quote from a brochure. “Japanese ‘washi’ paper is an iconic piece of Kochi’s heritage having been produced in the prefecture for more than 1,000 years. UNESCO has declared washi paper an Intangible Cultural Heritage Object.”

We went to a resort/paper factory that sells the professionally made papers and offers tourists the opportunity to make their own. Oh, boy. First instructions: roll up your sleeves and take off rings, watches and bracelets. People, we’re going in elbow-deep in this process. One at a time we take a place in front of one of the five vats of “stuff,” something from the inside of branches (sometimes things really are lost in translation) floating around in cold water. First we stir it all up (it feels like putting your arms into Jello that’s not quite set) and then dip these wooden framed screens into the goop, raise the frames up, shake them, tilt them this way for the count of five and then that way for another five and then remove the frame (it’s divided the screen into six areas about the size of a post card) and tip the screen over onto another piece of dry paper with our number (they want to make sure that you get your paper when it’s all finished) and squish out more of the water.

It sounds crazy and it really is. The place is organized madness. Several little Japanese ladies are giving instructions in rapid-fire Japanese while KZ is trying to translate every one of them all at once. And these little ladies are not shy about chastising you if you put your thumb in the wrong place or tilt the frame the wrong way. Madness, but in a good way. After finishing, it’s next to a sink to wash off this goop and then to wander about and see all the beautiful papers and objects the real paper makers create. I managed to leave with a bag of treasures. Our paper would take a while to dry so we left it there and then went off on the bus up the river until we made an ice cream stop.

What an unexpected surprise. Along the river road, in a bend of said road, was a small store famous for its ice cream, a cross between ice cream and sherbet. Cars were constantly pulling off and stopping for the stuff. We each had a container of their special vanilla. They make a slew of flavors. You could even take a ten-pack of any of your favorites home with you. Now how you could possible do this in mid-summer, mid-heat wave is a mystery. I imagine it would all be gone before you got half way home.

Next to a stop to cross the river and back, on foot, on a one lane bridge with no railings, open to both pedestrians and cars. I walked out enough to take a picture and then back off. KZ said the mountains get over 100” of rain each year which fills the river and then rushes to the sea. When the bridge had railings, trees and branches would catch in the railings, the water would back up and flood the area. The government suggested a higher and pricey bridge but the locals would have none of that. Their fix was to remove the railings so now water and any debris can pass over and head downstream without a problem. Sometimes the easiest solution is the best.

After all this we stopped back at the paper place where KZ retrieved our efforts, now neatly package in paper (what else?) bags. We each now have six postcard-sized pieces of hand made paper. Now to go on Pinterest for some clever ideas of what to do with it.

On the way back to the ship we passed a company that makes and sells gravestones. And the sign out front: “It’s a hearty stone.” Nuff said.

We got back mid-afternoon in time for chips and guac before another mandatory Muster Drill for passengers who got on before July 31. That would be us. So at 4:30 we dutifully lined up at our appointed life boat, watched the crew demonstrate how to put on a life jacket and listened again to the rules should we have to abandon ship: Put on warm clothes and shoes, take medicines, eye glasses, ID and passport. No bags, suitcases allowed. Take your life jacket and go to your Muster Station.  And hope that we never have to do this for real. 

We were on the shady side of the boat, thank heavens, but we missed whatever good bye production was being performed on the dock. By the time we were done, the ship was ready to leave.

We had been gone maybe 45 minutes when the Captain came across the loud speakers to announce that a passenger was ill and needed to be evacuated so we would turn around and head back to the dock. The ship did a slow turn and then began to idle in place. As luck would have it, the Pilot Boat in this harbor is the friendly and big tug boat that met us coming in  this morning. The Captain then announced that the tug would take the passenger off the Maasdam and then into the dock where she could be transferred to the hospital. It was pretty smooth so the transfer (right below our balcony) went well and off the tug went.

Then the Captain announced that this had saved us probably two or three hours which was a good thing because now we’re about to out-run Tropical Storm, soon to be Typhoon, Francisco expected to hit southern Japan (our current location) tomorrow. He’s going to put the pedal to the medal so we will be clear of the storm track by morning. Since the seas are predicted to be 12 meters, we’re all a happy lot to be outta here.

In Russia Anything is Possible

Petropavlovsk, Kamchatka Peninsula, Russia

Friday, July 26, 2019

Two items first:

Forgive the multiple postings of some documents. There is a prompt that sometimes appears after I push the “Publish” button telling me it didn’t post. Evidently it sometimes does post. 

The name of the city we visited on the Kamchatka peninsula is Petropavlovsk but sometimes that is spell-corrected to something very similar. After the first four syllables of a Russian word one forgets what one meant to say, one does.

It seems that on every voyage the port that sounded so dry and dull on paper turns out to be a quirky delight. Case in point, Petropavlovsk.

As warned, getting all the paperwork processed so we can go ashore that normally takes about ten minutes in a western world port takes hours in an eastern bloc port. We landed before dawn (at 6 am today) but the first passengers (those with passports from South America, Eastern Europe and any other spot in the world deemed not a threat to Mother Russia) weren’t permitted off the boat until at least 9. The rest of us with either HAL excursions or previously booked private excursions waited another hour or so before collecting our passports, now stamped with temporary visa, and heading down the gangway to have another official check for that stamp and then another do a passport face match.

And then we got on a bus that was built for commuter travel. The instructions on the hand holds suspended from the ceiling are in Chinese characters. There is also a fringed curtain that runs all around the windows making it very festive. It’s very clean and we have plenty of room. Rarely does HAL fill a bus to capacity. If there are 40 people on a tour, better to have two buses with 20 people on each than 40 on one bus which guarantees whining from somebody.

Our guide is Maria, 40-ish, stylishly dressed and a grin and a giggle from moment one. I’m not sure that she ever introduced the driver, but he was the strong, silent type not a cowboy as some of them can be. Lucky for us his manhood did not depend on how fast he could get from point A to point B, narrow streets and curving roads be damned.

First impression: Nice cars. In Russia. Huh? Toyotas of every size but mostly SUVs, the occasional Lexus and Land Rover. Per Maria: “Japan is our closest neighbor. Toyotas cost the same as Russian cars. We all choose Toyotas.”

Second impression: All those Toyotas have either left hand drive or right hand drive. Again, huh? They drive on the right as we do so why have a right hand drive. Per Maria: “In Russia, anything is possible. Most of eastern Russia prefers right hand drive. That’s what I have. The only problem is the airport parking lot; the toll taker is on the left side.” She also said that the government attempted to decree that all cars must be left hand drive but there was so much opposition from the eastern half of the country that they gave up. Kamchatka is so isolated (accessible only by water or air) that I’m wondering if “They” thought it even worth the trouble.

More car stuff. Like Juneau, Dutch Harbor and, it seems, any geographically isolated town or city, there aren’t that many roads in Petropavlovsk and those that are seem pretty crowded.  As Ivan (gotta give the guy a name) wormed his way through the traffic — there must be Italian DNA hereabouts. Parked cars are seemingly left here and there and the intersections! There are some traffic lights, but mostly it seems that left turners have the right away except when they don’t but think they still do. Ivan, bless his heart, actually waited until the coast was clear to make his turns. As I was sitting at the window on the left side of the bus, I did so appreciate his caution.

Petropavlovsk is the largest city on the peninsula, where most of the 300,000 live. It’s built along the harbor and surrounding hills. The Avacha Bay is HUGE! It has a narrow opening that protects it from tsunamis. Surrounding the bay and city are volcanoes. Everywhere. And many of them are the classic cone shape, all with snow. I don’t think it’s possible to take a picture anywhere in the city  without one photo bombing in the background. 

As luck would have it, the fleet is in! Navy Day is Saturday so there are several navy ships and submarines at anchor. None of the vessels look like new warships so we’re thinking this lot is for show not go. The sailors (hundreds of them) gathered in Lenin Square (I think it also doubles as a parking lot because I can see lined parking spaces but it has a statue of Lenin so it’s Lenin Square) to practice for tomorrow’s celebration. 

Ivan took us from here to there and then back to here, passing, I kid you not, a Gold’s Gym several times, to see various monuments and the beautiful Russian Orthodox cathedral before we went up, up, up to a view point above the city and harbor. Such a beautiful day which I gather is a rarity. Maria told us that they have a lot of winter sports, skiing, skating, snowmobiling and the children are very good at all of them. But they should be because winter lasts about nine months. Then she said, “Tourism is a big business here. Hiking, fishing, hunting. People come to enjoy it in the summer. (Dramatic pause) Which is August.”

Our main destination, though, was the Vulcanarium, “a most modern museum of volcanoes.” We arrived to find a nice, newish building, but very small and cramped inside. Various rooms of rocks and stuff. Honestly it looked like a science fare in a middle school cafeteria. We first were ushered into a “lava cave,” each of us thinking, this is gonna be a very long hour. But then, Katarina appeared, pointer stick in hand. Maybe 30-something, adorable with a lovely, lilting voice. And she knew her stuff which she communicated very capably in English. She led us from room to room, doing little demonstrations of lava flow, breaking lava glass, etc with her handy-dandy little blow torch. What a good teacher. After all our travel around the Ring of Fire we thought we might have a degree in volcanoes by now but we learned a lot from her. I picked up a flyer on my way out. vulcanarium.com. On my list to look up when we’re home with fast internet. On that note, Lordy, but we’re spoiled. 

We made one more stop on our way back to the ship at the Market. It’s a two story mall with small shops selling clothes, shoes, toys, pet food and caviar! Half of the first floor was a meat and fish market, so clean it had no fish smell other than the enticing odor of smoked fish. And then there’s the caviar. Big vats of it. Buy it scooped into a container or canned to take home. Many different kinds, all available for sampling like Costco on a Saturday afternoon. Except it’s caviar and not Hot Pocket bites from a toaster oven. There was a small fresh food market outside with gorgeous radishes and other root vegetables plus lettuces and flowers. So tempting but what am I going to do with a bunch of radishes in Stateroom #117? Pras and Joko, our stewards, would be stumped. I took too long to finish my apology truffles from the Pinnacle Grill maître d’ so they tossed them! Pras said they were starting to “look funny” and he didn’t want me to get sick. Jim gave me a side eye that said, “don’t even try to tell them that chocolate never looks ‘funny.’” 

Part of the fun of a shore excursion is asking the guide questions about life in their city or country. Obviously there is a whole lot of capitalism happening in this little corner of the Motherland. Small businesses are everywhere, with big, flashy signs. I remember next to nothing of the Russian I learned in the early 70s so who knows what they were selling. Lines at the ATMs in the Market and lots of people shopping. There are new buildings, all faced with colorful, shiny material, that contrast with the usual cement, Soviet Bloc style apartment houses. Mary said that most people live in apartments, some own them and some have small houses up on the hillsides. When she’s not a tour guide she is an English teacher. For the past decade or so, the only foreign language taught in their schools was English. But she said her 9-year-old daughter came home with a notice that in the future they would also be learning German. She’s not too sure why German is back in the curriculum. There are two colleges and a medical college in Petropavlovsk but the best and the brightest go away to school and rarely return. It’s hard to keep them down on the farm and all that. I can’t blame them. The peninsula is so isolated. The hope is that the ferry service between Vladivostok and Petropavlovsk will be revived. The only real option right now is air service. Can you imagine relying on Aeroflot? No, thank you.

We got back to the ship around 2 where the afternoon tourers were waiting to go and do. All aboard was 5:30 but an hour later we were still at the dock with the pilot boat circling around waiting for us to leave so he could follow along, pick up the pilot and be done for the day. Around 7 the captain came over the loudspeakers to say that the paperwork was taking longer than expected but “we’re in no hurry” so what the hay. We were sitting at a window table in the dining room when we finally left the harbor. I just cannot tell you how fabulous it is to sail by an endless string of volcanoes. Supposedly the one across the harbor let out a bit of steam late last night at sunset. But like Katarina told us, there are 30 active volcanoes hereabouts and one of them is always doing something.

Now, on to Japan.

Hello? This is The Bridge.

“Hello? This is the Bridge.”

At Sea, July 27 & 28, 2019

Kushiro, Japan, July 29, 2019

As the captain promised, we sailed for two days parallel to the islands that stretch from the end of the Kamchatka peninsula towards Japan. Or we think we sailed parallel to the islands. We awoke on Sea Day 1 to the intermittent blast of the horn. Maritime law requires that in a fog with visibility of less than something I forget, a moving ship must sound a horn every two minutes so nearby ships are aware of another vessel.

The sea is calm which is always a good but you can’t see a thing! The fog is thick and with us for the entire two sea days. Our only real task was setting the clocks back again. One more hour back and we’ll be on Japanese time as will all the iPads and Phones that are beyond confused. 

But there is always a list of activities, movies, musical performances and on and on. And, for many, a chance to tuck away in a quiet corner read another book. Or work a jigsaw puzzle. There are several of those in the library with small groups quietly working away. I must confess that I have a jigsaw puzzle game on my phone which is such a good time waster.

The first foggy sea night Jim and I went to the special Japanese dinner prepared by the guest chef, Naomi Kakiuchi. She called it a Home-Style Japanese Washuku. Just one sitting, a 6 o’clock. And it was also a wine pairing dinner. They started us out with a Kir Royale. I’d forgotten how good those things are. Then on to the Amuse Bouche of a savory steamed egg custard studded with chicken and various vegetables. With a French rose. Just delicious. Our bouches were amused. 

Naomi explained every course and why the courses were served in a certain order and then the cellar master talked about the wine choices. It was all heavenly, especially the grilled Sablefish infused with sake and miso. It was ethereal. Naomi assured us we could make it at home,  took  our email addresses and promised to send the recipes. That’s the mystery of the dish. It seems so easy but you just know the ingredient list is endless and half of the stuff isn’t in your neighborhood Publix. Every once in a while one of the vegetables on the plate would be in the shape of a little star. We asked Naomi who cut them and she said, “I did.” Then she told us it was a gizmo like a cookie-cutter, available in a range of shapes on Amazon! (Already in my Amazon cart with the fancy ice ball and cube making machine that Marty told me about. I do love a clear cube.)

Remember this is a wine pairing for each course. Five courses, five wines and the lads are generous with the topping off everyone’s glass. The volume and gaiety in the room seems to be wracheting up a notch with every glass.

We all took it easy the next day.

But then about 5 o’clock our stateroom phone rang. That phone never rings. 

Me: Hello?

Other person: Hello? This is The Bridge.

Holy #$%&! It was like being called to the principal’s office. What did we do? Or didn’t do?

He was calling because there was an alert that the smoke alarm in our cabin had been activated. Once again, Holy #$%&. Nothing was plugged in to our outlet (note singular—the classic HAL ships have one American outlet on the desk/vanity and one European under the same desk/vanity that I couldn’t reach on a bet.), the TV wasn’t on, I was just reading a NYT Sunday magazine from last May. The officer said that sometimes steam from the shower activated the alarm and he would reset it at The Bridge.

Then I braced myself for a knock on the door and three guys standing there in fire-fighting mufti, fire extinguishers at the ready. But the problem was solved with a switch flipped somewhere and we got down to the paperwork required to enter Japan.

We all need: Passport, ship key card, immigration form, customs form. Tomorrow when we dock, we will all be required (whether going ashore or staying on board) to meet the Japanese inspectors for face to passport examination, fingerprints of both hands AND a facial photograph. AND they will punch a hole in our ship key card. It’s comparable to a stamp on your hand for re-entry into a show or club. Pretty simple solution to know who’s been cleared and who hasn’t. We’re not quite sure why the prints and photo. Not being on the lamb from the law I agreed to both. When you do leave the ship, all bags will be inspected for fruit or vegetables. 

Sunday night was the last Gala Night of this leg of our trip. We sat with people from Maine and San Diego. Maine people approved of our choice years ago of buying a lobster roll and (best ever) ginger ale from a food truck in a Portland park. Maine man had a slick cane with a silver head. He bought the head and turned the stick from a piece of wood he found. San Diego Allison is a professional organist who plays the big one in Balboa Park in SD. Her husband was an oncology research guy. Everything he said went w.a.y. over my head, but Maine lady, a retired microbiologist, seemed to think he was doing important work so I nodded occasionally as if I understood it all. Sometimes that’s the secret to a successful dinner table experience; keep your mouth full and nod.

As sunset approached the fog finally began to lift and we could actually see the setting sun. The water was soft and rippley, reflecting the colors of the sky. A living impressionist painting.

Everyone perked up when the fog horn finally stopped and the blue sky appeared.

We wish you a wonderful life.

Takamatsu, Japan

Saturday, August 3, 2019

What a difference a day makes.

After our restorative self-proclaimed sea day yesterday I’m ready to dip myself in SPF 50, don my too-cute-AND-packable hat from REI and head out. 

We keep meeting people who go ashore in Japan and take a train here or a ferry there. I don’t see how they do it. The public transportation system is supposed to be wonderful and easy to use but all the signage is in Japanese characters so how do you know which train/ferry/subway to take? This morning at breakfast, the young man refilling coffee cups said he just had a chat with his supervisor because I guess he was late getting back to the ship yesterday. “All Aboard” time for crew is usually an hour before that for passengers and I guess he missed the crew time. He told us he took the train from the pier into downtown Takamatsu. There was just one train, no problem. However, when it was time to come back there were SIX trains leaving. He asked for the one to the pier and the reply was, “Which one? There are seven piers.” Ruh roh. And that is precisely why Susan and Jim, directionally challenged on a good day, rely on a guide and driver to get us to and from.

When we arrived this morning around 7 am there was a jazz band on the dock to greet us. The cruise pier is part of a lovely park that stretches along the breakwater to the harbor entrance. It appears to be a favorite jogging, bike riding and dog walking path. The immediate area around the gangway from ship to pier is marked with temporary chain link fencing and the usual Japanese Customs checking for fruit and vegetables, otherwise the rest of the pier is open to the public. I keep thinking how much fun it would be as a child (or grownup) to go to the pier and watch the cruise ships come in. I’m guessing that Kochi is too small for the giant ships, but the Maasdam slips in quite nicely. We’re liking these musical greetings in the smaller ports.

Takamatsu is on the island of Shikoku, long isolated from the other islands by the natural barrier of the Seto Inland Sea. It’s now connected by three bridges but still is off the beaten tourist track. Like the rest of Japan, the island is mountainous, but unlike the other cities we’ve visited Takamatsu seems much more rural with farms and fishermen. 

The population is 400,000 or so, a crossroads compared to Tokyo, Yokohama and Kobe. As we drove through the city, there were the usual eight or ten-story apartment buildings but also single family homes and parking lots! Tucked in amongst the homes and businesses are small  rice paddies, beautiful, lush and green this time of year. Lots of commerce, stores, bowling alleys, Pachinko with the endless signage that we’ve seen at every stop. Definitely no laws regarding size and location of signs! 

We stopped for a red light in front of a gas station. Jim noticed that boxes are painted on the ground showing you where you are to stop your car for a fill up. We left before I could tell if there were attendants or it was self-serve. I did see a young man in the ubiquitous dark pants, short sleeve white shirt and black tie talking to a lady at her car but could only guess his job.

We decided to take a short, three-hour excursion (it’s still ripping hot and humid. So hazy we didn’t realize until the sun burned some of it off in the afternoon that there are several islands close by with ferries going back and forth) to a Bonsai farm and the George Nakashima Memorial Gallery. Nakashima was a Japanese-American who studied forestry at the University of Washington then switched to architecture with a masters in that field from MIT. He finished school in the depth of the Depression, so wandered the world as our guide Naru put it, “as a Bohemian” before beginning his career as an architect. He was interred at a camp in Idaho during WWII where he met and studied with a master Japanese woodworker. As a result he became a furniture designer who melded his various influences to create the definitive American Craftsman furniture style. His design is clean and modern as tomorrow, looking like Danish Shaker with more delicacy than Frank Lloyd Wright, with whom he worked on the Imperial Hotel in Tokyo, by the way.

The Gallery is in front of the furniture factory. Nakashima died in 1990 but factories (and I use that term loosely—the one in Takamatsu is very small and all furniture and accessories are made by hand in both locations) in Takamatsu and New Hope, PA still follow his designs and philosophy of sustainable forestry. Most everything is made of walnut from trees that have fallen from storm or age. We wandered around the building and found stacks of walnut boards, at least 18” wide and 2 or 3” thick by 20’ long, under tarps, drying and aging. Inside are examples of his iconic designs, some in a museum setting-look but don’t touch- others available to admire and touch with chairs to sit-test. Nakashima made “live edge” tables decades ago. Some of his most spectacular pieces are massive dining or conference tables made from slabs of walnut, cut and bookended and connected with joiners that look like butterflies. The gallery docent showed me pictures of Nelson Rockefeller’s home in Pocantico  Hills in the Hudson River Valley furnished with the 200 pieces of furniture he commissioned from Nakashima. Note to self: research to see if that house is open to the public. 

Jim bought some small accessory pieces but we had to pass on any furniture. Our new apartment is too small plus we’d have to both sell kidneys AND cash in a 401K to pay for it. A girl can dream...

The area is home to the famous Ritsurin Park Gardens and also 40 Bonsai farms. We stopped at one and were shown around by a young man who is a fifth generation Bonsai farmer. “Farmer” seems too rustic a term for what is really an art. His grandfather was carefully pruning a beautiful pine nor more than a foot tall. Most of the plants were conifers but with patience and skill many trees and shrubs can be trained—maples, azaleas, persimmon and even a blueberry loaded with berries. We wandered around through hundreds of Bonsais from new ones to the pride of the family, a large one over 200 years old. Of course we are prohibited to take live anything back with us which nipped the temptation to buy one in the bud. Oh, and the prices also gave one pause. The “starters” are around US$50 but the more mature Bonsais are in the 100s and 1,000s of dollars range. 

Not only is it a nice change to be in a less populous and frantic place but we also have a fantastic guide, Naru. She was a journalist in Tokyo who was sent on an assignment to Takamatsu. She liked the area so much she moved there and switched professions and is now a professional guide. Her English is excellent, she enjoys showing visitors the charms of this island and she is a bundle of energy.

As in the rest of the country, small convenience stores are everywhere and a source for everything. Naru was concerned that we stay hydrated, so had the driver stop at a Lawson’s, one of a chain. I was so curious about what was in these stores plus I’m on the hunt for the flavored Kit Kat bars found in Japan, so I was off that bus and into that store in a heartbeat. It’s like a 7/11 on steroids. I mean that little place carries EVERYthing! Naru steered me away from the Kit Kats I found (“Get them at the airport.”) and when I told her I’d had a green tea ice cream cone the day before she led me to the ice cream freezer and chose a green, very green, ice cream bar. I don’t know what is in Japanese ice cream but it is so creamy but doesn’t taste overly rich. That ice cream bar was divine. I saved the stick and the box it came in on the off chance that I might ever find one in the US of A. Once again, a girl can dream.

I always have my nose pressed to the window as we’re driving around. We passed what we thought might be a baseball or soccer stadium but Naru said it was a bicycle race track. Betting on bicycle races is a big thing. It was next door to a fencing studio and an archery range. 

I also spotted a few larger stores, what I assume were supermarkets because of the huge photos of fruits and vegetables on the signs. One of the little oddities we’ve noticed as we travel around is that all the signage is in Japanese characters, quite often there is an English phrase on the building describing what they sell or just some random sentence. My favorite was on the front of a supermarket: “We wish you a delightful life.” 

We sat with a foursome last night at dinner. Jim was having a long chat with one man about golf in Tennessee. Next to me was (I assume) a retired astronomer from Ireland now living in Florida. I tried to engage him in Star Talk (A tip of the hat to Neil deGrasse Tyson’s podcast) telling him about our star gazing in the South Pacific and watching the Space Station fly over in Florida but he was having none of it. At least I didn’t confuse astronomy with astrology although now that I think of it, seeing his face as I asked him his sign might have been priceless. Sometimes the conversation just doesn’t flow so we took a break from the dining room and tonight had dinner for two in the Pinnacle Grill. It’s quiet, great service, good food and a nice view out the window as we sailed under the bridge, twinkling with lights, that links Honshu to Shikoku.