Author Archives: chloe elizabeth

and it continues

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Perhaps I need to rename this blog Ways I am Making of Fool of Myself in Japan. But, then again, the current title seems pretty appropriate, for every day seems to present a new existential dilemma for me…or, in some cases, an existential crisis. Okay, maybe that’s a little dramatic. But only a little. Now, onto the actual post.

Friday night I was wandering around my neighborhood looking for a new restaurant to try. This is both an exciting adventure and a painful task that I get to experience every night. I so wish I spoke Japanese! And I would eat at home, but why when there’s so much good food out there that someone else has prepared and dishes that someone else will do?

Anyway, back to the story. I saw this amazing looking oyster bar, but all the tables were reserved and I did not want to sit at the bar because it was also the smoking section and, while I tolerate cigarette smoke just fine when necessary, I don’t really like it with my food. (I will be going back there sometime this week because, seriously, it looked incredible.)

So, I kept wandering and found myself down a little side street (which is most streets in Tokyo) and wandered past a restaurant with all of these lovely wind chimes tinkling in the evening breeze. I kept walking past because it was a sukiyaki/shabu shabu place, meaning it was both pricey and going to be way too much food for just me. (Don’t worry, I am making friends slowly, but I’ve actually been thoroughly enjoying my quiet life these past two weeks.)
After wandering down the street a little farther, I realized that the wind chimes were calling to me (wind chimes always remind me of my brother’s house, so that was probably part of it) and there was a waiter/host outside of the restaurant who just looked so very friendly. I headed back and followed the nice man down the stairs (everything is vertical in Tokyo, so it’s not uncommon to eat in the basement or on the 9th floor) and inside…where it was obvious that I was going to be asked to remove my shoes. I did so and then followed the host/server past a section of perfectly good, empty, western style tables to the back, where there were other diners and, yes, Japanese style table (i.e. floor level seating). Thankfully, it was not “sit cross-legged” floor seating (there was a lowered part for my feet/legs) because no one wants to think about what a disaster that might have been with my current dribbling issues. But still, is there a graceful way to sit on the floor in a restaurant? 

Once seated, I looked over the menu and decided to just get the sukiyaki (way to much food for one person), which came with a little appetizer, clear soup, sashimi, tempura, sukiyaki, and a little dessert. (Since moving here and dining alone most nights, I’ve learned to just be okay not finishing all my food even though doggy bags are not a feasible option most of the time.) The appetizers were just little vegetable dishes. The sashimi was pretty straightforward, minus the full shrimp (eyeballs and all) that stared at me. Apparently you are supposed to suck out the insides of the head. I am an adventurous eater, but even I have limits. Although you will see that they are pretty low. Then came the clear soup with, I kid you not, half a fish in it–fins and all.

See the shrimp eyes? 
See the fins?
So, at this point, I was very much looking forward to the tempura because that is always very straightforward. And the tempura came and there were no surprises. The waitress proceeded to prepare my sukiyaki (the pot is brought to the table and cooked right there on a little portable, gas range thing) and I decided to dig in to my tempura. I saw this little round blob sitting on on the paper. I wasn’t sure what it was (mushroom, maybe?), but I saw what was clearly tempura breading on it, so I pick it up and plop it in my mouth.

Sukiyaki, pre-cooking. 
Well, that tempura I saw on it was just a little flake. I had just put a large blob of grated daikon (an Asian radish) into my mouth. And while nowhere near as hot as horseradish or wasabi, it still has a little kick to it and the last think I wanted to do was swallow this whole thing. Not only that, but having had tempura one other time since living here, I knew the daikon was meant for the tempura sauce…and I wanted it in the sauce!
See? Existential crisis.
I would love to tell you that I decided to be the upstanding, appropriate, polite, well-mannered individual that my mother and grandmother raised me to be. I would love to tell you that I just sucked it up and swallowed it. I would love to tell you that those ridiculous scenes in movies where people do ridiculous things like hold food in their mouths until they can spit it out without anyone noticing are just that: completely ridiculous and totally unrealistic. I would love to say all of these things right now, but I cannot.
There I sat while this waitress took, what felt like, five years to get the sukiyaki going with a huge blob of daikon in my not-so-very-large mouth. She’d look at me every so often (probably wondering why I wasn’t touching the oh-so-delicious tempura sitting in front of me) and I’d smile to the best of my ability with my mouth full of radish. Finally, she walked away. I glanced around at the two other occupied tables and made sure no one was looking at me. And then I did what you are all hoping and praying I didn’t do (only secretly happy I did because it’s going to give you a good laugh); I lifted the little sauce bowl to my mouth and spit the daikon into it. This might be a new low. 
There’s a great quote by American author H. Jackson Browne, Jr. (I had no idea who he was until I looked for this quote) that states, “Our character is what we do when we think no one is looking.” Clearly, I have some character issues. I can happily state that had anyone been with me, I would have just swallowed the daikon. There’s just something about the anonymity of living in a very foreign country where I can barely communicate with anyone that affords me the freedom to be completely ridiculous. Which, as most of you know, is not my normal state of being when I am in my normal life. And while I probably need to get back to that place because this is my normal life now, there’s something so liberating about just not caring. (I think my therapist would be proud?)

Okay, back to the rest of the meal. For the most part, it proceeded without any more ridiculousness. The only part that was a little iffy was when the nice waiter brought me a raw egg in a bowl (to accompany the sukiyaki, as I learned) and I had absolutely no idea what to do with it. I communicated as much to him using very basic English and a lot of sign language (well, ridiculous hand gestures…it would be offensive to the deaf community to call anything I was doing “sign language”). Somehow, he understood what I was asking and showed me that the egg was meant for me to mix up and then dip my beef and vegetables in it–as in dip them and then put them directly into my mouth.

Since I was now in a state of complete ridiculousness given the daikon incident, I decided to just go for it. I am so thankful that a) I am pretty comfortable with weird foods and b) I have a stomach that can handle a lot. Plus, with all the cookie dough and brownie batter I’ve consumed over the years, I figured I was pretty safe with a little more raw egg. Although, had this been any country other than Japan, I probably wouldn’t have done it, but considering their high standards for quality, I figured I was okay. (Last night is was seared chicken–as in mostly raw–in my salad. I had already taken a few bites before I realized what it was, so I just kept going. One of these days my luck is going to run out, but for now, apparently I’m okay.)

And finally, there was dessert; vanilla ice cream and some sort of jelly something (consistency somewhere between jello and gummies). I have no idea what the flavor was, but it was delicious.

And with that, I paid my bill and stood up as gracefully as possible (which is to say not very gracefully at all) and headed home…laughing to myself the whole way. If nothing else, my time in Japan will be full of very entertaining memories.

service with a smile

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The Japanese are not like the Americans in so many ways (most of them good). Sure, they’re a little behind when it comes to gender equality (that post is coming), but other than that…they pretty much have us beat. Their food is way better. They have honor and respect. They are cleaner; they take their shoes off before entering your home and have super cool things like moist towels (which you use instead of a napkin through your entire meal–in case you were wondering, no, you don’t put it in your lap) and towelettes at restaurants (even Starbucks!).

Yes, little most towelette all ready to clean my hands off after I eat my pastry. So much better than a napkin!

And when it comes to service? It’s like living in a Nordstrom 24/7. Yeah. I’m serious. It’s that good.

 And now, a few examples to illustrate my point.

On Monday, I became the owner of a new iPhone 4S (my old iPhone 4 will not work on the Japanese networks). When purchasing the iPhone, the salesperson at the cell phone company, SoftBank, was a dream. I mean, clearly he was not on a New York schedule, but it was kind of nice not to rush (and my boss had warned me that the process of getting a cell phone–or any other service set-up for that matter–would be very slow). He didn’t try to sell me something I didn’t want. He didn’t try to get me to upgrade my service. He didn’t force a new case on me. He was just very straightforward with me and helped me get exactly what I wanted. And said thank you many, many times.

Unfortunately, the phone I purchased ended up having a busted camera (noticed the out of focus shot above). I took it back to SoftBank, where I was told (as expected) that I would have to go to the Apple Store. I understood this, but I was not happy because I’d purchased a case and they’d put the screen protector on in the store, so it was super smooth, and there was this really cute button for my home key that was going to have to be removed assuming Apple would replace my phone. 
Well, the lovely salesperson offered to remove both the screen protector and the button for me so as to maintain the quality of the two items. Then she stuck them both to clean pieces of plastic and told me to come back and she would reapply them. So, that’s exactly what I did. (Apple didn’t actually replace my phone…just the camera. I should also mention that my Genius appointment occurred right on time, as does every other scheduled thing in this country. Another thing Japan does better than us.) Only the screen protector wasn’t sticking perfectly, so she managed to find another one in the back of the store and applied that one free of charge. 
Then there’s the button. (And yet another story of how I embarrass myself any chance I get.) After my trip to the Apple store, it was time for dinner, so I found a nice looking Chinese restaurant and proceeded to have dinner. I sat down to a lovely place setting and ordered. As I was sitting there, I saw this curious thing on the table. Unsure of what it was, I picked it up. Underneath, you could see that batteries went into it and there was a sort of little speaker. Realizing it’s a button, what do I do? I pushed it, of course. (Yes, apparently being a curious five-year-old is the identity I’ve assumed since relocating to Japan.) And out of nowhere, my server appears, ready to acquiesce to whatever request I decide to throw at her. I would like to say that I quickly came up with a reason for pressing it, but I did not. I just smiled and apologized.

One of the things Japan does not do as well as the US? Takeout and doggy bags. I noticed, after several meals out, that people never leave with any doggy bags. So, I asked my boss (because sometimes I try not to learn from my own mistakes) if that was something people did. She told me that it is not. Well, at said Chinese restaurant, as it happened, I ordered way too much food. But it was so good. But there was no way I could (or should) have eaten it all. So, instead, I decide to just go ahead and ask if I could get the rest to go. And, in true Japanese fashion, the answer was, “Yes. Of course!”

I have never had such amazing dumplings (potstickers) as the ones I’ve had in Japan. Seriously, I don’t know how they get the wrapper so thin, chewy, and crispy all at the same time.

Ten minutes later, the bag of food finally came back to me (apologizing profusely–as the Japanese do–about how long it took), indicating that this was clearly not something they are used to doing. (Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if they sent a busboy to the store to buy containers and little soy sauce packets.) In any case, my food did not go to waste and I avoided another embarrassing moment by not having to puke in the uber-chic toilet post-meal. And as opposed to the US, where I would normally have offered a huge tip had someone gone to such lengths, you do not tip in Japan. Good service is an expectation. Can you imagine a living in a country where honor even applies to the server at a restaurant? If not, I’ll just tell you. It’s amazing!

Oh, and one more example. My international assignment coordinator sent me an email asking me how I was enjoying my accommodations, etc, etc. I told her they were very nice and I love being in a building with a gym (they were considering trying to get me in a different building so I’d have a little more space), but that if possible (and I could stay in the building) it would be nice to have a little more space. So, tonight, I come home to an email stating that a bigger apartment will be available starting this weekend, in the same building, and that they’d been able to negotiate the rate so it was still within budget. Seriously…I may never leave this country.

noodles

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The first Sunday I was here, I went to dinner with my boss. We covered a lot of information during that dinner. We also ate some very delicious foods previously mentioned here. One of the things my boss covered, while we were eating the most amazing soba noodles I’ve ever had, was that the Japanese slurp when they eat noodles or soup. This slurping indicates that they are enjoying the food (you know, as opposed to just saying, “Wow, this food is fantastic!”).

Anyway, I am not a slurper by nature or nurture (maybe more nurture…my grandma would have beat me had I been a slurper). When I turned eight my parents took me out to eat at a very nice, very expensive French restaurant both to celebrate my birthday and to teach me all about dining etiquette. I still remember learning that you should scoop (or whatever the term is) your soup away from you and that you should always bring your food to your mouth and not your mouth to your food.

Since being in Japan, I have tried lots of different noodle dishes. And they have all been delicious, so in an effort to show my appreciation the way the Japanese will understand it best, I have also attempted slurping up said noodles. Unfortunately, the mistake that I made when attempting this is that I was still trying to keep the other rules laid out for me as a child…namely, bringing my food to my mouth and not the other way around.

An interesting thing happens when you decide to slurp up your noodles (noodles that have been sitting in soupy deliciousness) without leaning way down so your mouth is over the bowl:

I would love to say that this has only happened to me once because that would mean that I learned from my mistake. But alas, that would be a lie. In fact, this is the fourth (yes, fourth…and I’ve been here a total of 10 days) shirt that I’ve managed to slurp on. This also necessitated a trip to the store for some sort of stain treatment…to be carried in my purse for when such things happen at work (as they already have, twice, while at lunch with coworkers).

This has also made me realize that if I’m going to continue to bring my food to my mouth, then my food must come with my bowl in order to catch whatever liquids decide to go flying off of my noodles. (And let’s just be real for a minute. Whether or not I “slurp” really has nothing to do with my amazing ability to ruin whatever shirt I’m wearing…it just makes me feel better to blame it on that.)

my first full saturday in japan

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***Disclaimer: This post is very long and travel-log-ish and more for my benefit than anyone else’s. I will not be offended if you just look at the photos and move on. Although, I’m pretty sure part of this is entertaining enough you might want to read it…***

Earlier this week at work, we were discussing weekend plans. My boss suggested going to Kamakura and Kita-Kamakura. From my conversations with Jodi (who used to live here), I knew this was something I wanted to do, so it seemed like a great idea for a day trip.

I woke up Saturday morning and packed my backpack (yes, super nerdy, and I know I have friends who like to be much more fashionable while being tourists, but I wasn’t sure what to expect and figured having a back that wasn’t killing me from carrying a heavy purse couldn’t be a bad thing) and donned my running shoes (see the previous parenthetical, only replace “back” with “feet”). And because I was carrying a backpack and not a purse, I didn’t hesitate to grab an umbrella and a hoodie, even though I was expecting neither rain nor cold temperatures. The one thing I forgot to pack (thought about it five times, but never put them in my bag) were my flip-flops, in case I decided to head down to the beach.

And I was off…

Look how happy I look. If only I’d known what was coming…

Initially, I was going to run an errand on the way, so I wandered through Minato-ku (the ward–area of Tokyo–where I live) walking past Tokyo Tower (our own version of the Eiffel Tower–which I can see from my apartment balcony).

After that, I got a little lost on my way to the subway stop I wanted (this happens rather frequently here…with no street names–yes, there are almost no street names here–and without my phone and constant connection to Google maps, I have to rely on the city maps posted here and there, and my memory…) and found myself in front of my first Buddhist Temple: Zozoji.

Notice Tokyo Tower in the background…not very Zen.

While I was there, I wandered in and there was a memorial service going on and the monks were chanting. It was very cool.

After that, I found a map and worked my way to the subway. At this point it was about noon and I hadn’t had breakfast and was pretty hungry (I know you care), but I was in a hurry and, while there are several 7-Elevens around, I am not familiar enough with Japanese snack food to know what I’d like and what I wouldn’t…espcially when there are things like this:

In case you can’t tell what you’re looking at from my crappy iPhone pic, that is a hot dog, with ketchup and who knows what else on it. Yummy…

So, I opted to have my first McDonald’s in Tokyo. Happy to report the chicken nuggets were delicious and did not contain any weird things (sometimes “chicken” here is not what you would think it would be). Very sad, however, to report that even at McDonald’s there’s no Diet Coke…only Coke Zero.

And then I was off. The trek out to Kita-Kamakura is about an hour, so I decided to study the hiragana (one of the two Japanese syllabaries–similar to our alphabet). I am quite pleased with how much I’m retaining.

When I got off the train, I just went to the nearest temple, Engaku-ji…which turned out to be absolutely amazing.

The main building
A modern Buddhist cemetery
An ancient Buddhist cemetery
Just a cool statue…not sure what (or who, rather) she is.

More buildings…the temple grounds are sort of complexes of buildings.

The beautiful Japanese maples. These will forever remind of my backyard growing up. I cannot wait to go back there in the fall and see all of the amazing colors!
As I wandered my way back down the hill (the complex is built on the side of a mountain), I saw this sign which says in English at the bottom “National Treasure”. Well, of course I had to find out what the treasure is. (The picture is actually a hint, but I didn’t know that at the time.)
Then I saw these stairs and wondered just how badly I needed to see this “National Treasure,” but not wanting to miss anything, I decided I could handle the stairs. So, up I went. Unfortunately, so did they.
But the view from the top was totally worth it. And the National Treasure was pretty cool. 
Another temple complex across the valley. Can you imagine this in the fall?
This is the National Treasure.  (Ask me how badly I wanted to back that log up and let it rip…)
The sign next to the National Treasure (aka Ogane Bonsho…which means something like “Buddhist Bell? I should probably look that up.)
 And then, the real reward (not that the bell and view weren’t super cool, but it was freaking hot and humid!)…a little cafe of sorts at the top of the staircase…serving shaved ice. 
This is yuzu–my new favorite fruit (or at least fruit flavor)!
Just in case the first picture of stairs didn’t look that bad, this was the other half of the staircase, as viewed from the top.
As I was getting ready to leave the complex and head to my next stop, I thought it might not be a bad idea to use the bathroom since it was there and I wasn’t sure when the next one would be. (Normally I would not share my bathroom pit-stops with the blogosphere, but there’s a reason for it.) Before I moved here, I had been warned by Jodi of the “hole in the ground” bathrooms, so when before walking into this one, I was praying it would be normal…not having mastered the whole “hole in the ground” thing for obvious reasons. I saw an elderly woman come out of a stall and, for some reason, thought of course the toilets were normal; an elderly woman wouldn’t pee in a hole in the ground…
So, for a “hole in the ground” this is actually pretty nice in my opinion. That said, I still wasn’t going to use it. 

I left the bathroom hoping I’d come across something more familiar soon. Then I remembered that I needed to take a photo (because that’s normal, right?), so I went back in and when I got to the last stall (trying to be discreet about my potty-picture-taking), it was a normal toilet. I’m sure eventually I’ll be in a situation where I just have to use the hole in the ground, but thankfully it wasn’t yesterday. (And, despite my openness here, I doubt I will blog about it…)

After leaving Engaku-ji, I got sucked into an earthenware shop. When I found out I was moving to Tokyo, I decided that the one souvenir type thing I wanted to collect was earthenware. My grandparents lived in Japan years ago and I grew up eating and drinking out of these beautiful bowls and mugs brought back with them. While I would love a few of my grandma’s pieces for the memories, there are a lot of us grandkids and I’m just not counting on getting much, so this will be my own little memory of my grandparents, as well as my time in Tokyo.

Anyway, I looked around for a while and couldn’t find anything that I really liked that wasn’t over $40. I wandered into a few more shops and then came across this bowl and I knew it was the one (and it wasn’t ridiculously expensive). I ate breakfast out of it this morning and it made me so happy.

Back to the story. Having arrived later and wandered/shopped longer than planned, it was now almost 3:00. I had read that most of the sites close around 4/4:30, so I decided it was time to just head to the Great Buddha, as that was the other thing I really wanted to see while in Kamakura. Looking at the map below, I was in the lower left corner and wanted to go to the red box on the right side. I decided that, rather than walking around, I would hike the red trail over the mountain. You know, a short cut…

It started out nicely enough. I wandered through another little temple and got some good pictures of some Koi.

The pond was kind of dirty, but I had to take a shot: the black one was at least 18 inches long. Amazing.

It started to sprinkle while I was wandering through these temple grounds. Nothing major. So, I pulled out my umbrella and decided it was time to really get going.

And then, when I was about halfway up the mountain (or so I thought) the torrential (not joking) rain started. A less stubborn person would have turned around and cut her losses…but I am not that person. And so I kept going.

There were a few points when I wasn’t totally sure I was going the right way and, at one point, I suddenly realized that what I was doing (hiking, in a torrent, alone, in a foreign country where I don’t speak the language) was probably not the smartest decision I’d ever made. That said, I was seriously smiling and laughing to myself the entire time. These are the types of adventures that make my life so fun. And eventually, I did come across signs like this one pointing me in the right direction.

And then the path started to flood…

You can’t tell so much from this photo (and this is still in early stages), but there’s basically a river flowing to the left of the path. 
I cannot even explain to you how wet and dirty I was.

At this point, I knew (like, in-my-gut-knew) that falling at least once was inevitable. I was in running shoes, not hiking boots, and the path was so slick. On top of that, I was wearing my backpack on my front so as not to damage my camera or my passport, which made it difficult to watch my footing, and I was carrying an umbrella. Pretty hot, right?

Yeah…not quite as happy as when I left. Well, I was still happy, just kind of wet…
And then it happened. I was on a more sure footed part of the path (like the log steps you saw above), so I allowed myself to relax my vigilant footing for two seconds and my foot slipped on one of the little log steps. The umbrella went flying and I landed on my bum (trying to keep it family friendly) with my back slamming against one of the steps. It did not feel good. 
I stood up, so grateful that I hadn’t twisted my ankle or something else that would have made the rest of the hike difficult. Once I was sure I wasn’t too physically damaged (there is a HUGE bruise on my back…it’s kind of amazing), I started to assess the mud situation. My hands and one of my arms were coated. And then I felt my backside. Completely covered. 
If it was just a matter of getting in my own car and heading home, this would not be a huge issue. But I am in Japan, heading to a major tourist attraction (oh yes, at this point there was NO stopping me) and then had to ride the train home through Tokyo…nice, clean, manicured Tokyo. 
So, I did what any nature lover would do. I started using the bamboo, ferns, and other bushes (until it occurred to me that I’m not actually Bear Grylls, so I should probably just stick to bamboo and ferns–things I know aren’t poisonous) around me to try and clean myself off. This worked well enough for my arms and legs. My bum, not so much. Being the brilliant, innovative person I am (and having abandoned any illusion of decency or self-respect at this point), I decided a tree trunk was the only solution. That’s right. In the middle of the forest in Japan I rubbed my bum across a tree trunk…several times. (It’s possible I was also laughing so hard at this point I had tears streaming down my face.) But you know what, it totally worked. So, take that, all you Judgy McJudgersons out there. 
The one thing that kept me from just sitting down and giving up was knowing that the Japanese, with their attention to clean feet, would for sure have a foot washing area at the Great Buddha. And my entire person was so wet at this point that I could completely bathe in it and it wouldn’t have made me anymore wet (it just might be a little awkward). So, when I finally arrived at the Great Buddha, I found the station, rinsed off my arms, legs, and feet (shoes still on…it didn’t really matter) and wished to high heaven that I had not forgotten my flip-flops. But I wasn’t going to go spend $15 bucks on a pair of flip-flops for an hour train ride. Thankfully, I packed the hoodie, as it covered the dirt smeared across the back of my white shirt.

The Great Buddha was really cool (you could even go inside) and getting there (once it was over) was kind of fantastic. As I started to head to the train station, I realized I was super hungry (and rightly so). I knew I wasn’t going to be able to go sit down somewhere without showering and changing my clothes, so at the train station I grabbed a bratwurst on a bun.

The bun is like a little potato roll…clearly not the right size, but it was delicious.

And then I got a few of these little fish-shaped treats. They are like little pancakes/waffles with various fillings (think ebelskivers). Absolutely delicious and made for a more pleasant journey home.

And that almost concludes my first full Saturday in Japan.

earthquakes

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Prior to moving to Japan, I was directed by my company to a website with information about the country, its customs, and what to expect as an expat. One of the things I remember reading is that due to Japan’s geography, there was at least one earthquake a day somewhere in the country or just off its coast. This was slightly alarming, but having grown up in California, earthquakes are the one natural disaster with which I am probably most comfortable.

In the not quite week since moving here (one week ago I was on a plane with about 11 hours to go before touching down at Narita Airport–so crazy), I have been asked more than once if the threat of earthquakes made me nervous. My response has consistently been something like, “Well, I grew up in California and I was there during the big quake in 1989, so I have some familiarity with earthquakes.” (I try not to say too much about how well I remember the 1989 earthquake because it ages me a little…) I also mentioned that we had an earthquake this year in New York. Well, not in New York (the epicenter was near D.C.), but we felt it in New York. This seemed to satisfy them somewhat.

On my first day of work, I noticed that the woman sitting next to me had this very large fanny pack and hard hat on the back of her chair. I knew instantly that this was earthquake related. And then, on Thursday, I received this email from one of the women on my team:

I replied back that I did not have one and Andoh-san told me she’d order one for me. On Friday, when I got back from lunch, this was at my desk.

While the helmet makes me chuckle just a bit, no doubt I will be very grateful for it in an emergency.

In case you can’t read the photo, here is what constitutes the Emergency Kit: belt bag, emergency blanket, compressed towel and globes, radio light/mobile battery charger, dust mask, surgical (anti virus) mask, whistle with strap, emergency food for 3 days, survival water for 3 days, first aid kit, item list.
Additionally, in the front pocket, is a map of the city with emergency routes, as well a section on first aid, how to proceed in case of an emergency, and this section: Useful Phrases, which gives English and Japanese. So smart!

As you can see, the kit is pretty well designed (as you’d expect in a country where earthquakes are a daily occurrence). The zipper is actually zip-tied shut, so I couldn’t get into the bag, but the list made me feel pretty comfortable. The one thing that occurred to me is I probably need to take a pair of tennis shoes to the office…which made me suddenly very glad that in my attempt to minimize the number of pairs of shoes I was bringing, I brought two pairs of tennis shoes. It also made me realize I need to put together a similar 72-hour kit for my apartment.

Given all of this conversation and preparation for an earthquake, it seemed only appropriate that while I was laying in bed last night, exhausted from a week full of new experiences and drinks out with coworkers, I felt my first Japanese earthquake. It was just a baby one and not very long. I’m sure most people didn’t even feel it because had I been doing anything besides laying in bed, I doubt I would have caught it. In fact, it was so little I wondered if maybe it was my little washer shaking my floor. But it wasn’t (there’s no way my washer could shake the floor). I checked the interwebs and, while so small it wasn’t newsworthy, I found a very useful site called Quakes: Live Earthquakes Map and discovered there was a 4.9 magnitude quake about 130 miles from Tokyo. And with that, my week of “firsts” feels incredibly complete.