Go to Goishi

I know it's been a week since I wrote, but I was waiting until I had something to share. I've been living on the scant side of life for a while, waiting until payday so I can go out and have some adventures! In the world of rakugo, an evening of performances consists of the opening act (a novice), the second performer and then the headliner. It's the second performer's life which is like the character arc of any protagonist: out in the world on their own, living hand to mouth and striving to achieve the notoriety of the headliner. That stage of life is called "second-act poverty."

That's where I am right now, not that I'm starving or struggling by any means. I'm just practicing some mad discipline skills until I get the next paycheck and I can go out with friends again and see some new things and new places in Japan.

Last week, spring finally made an appearance. We had sunlight, light wind and deliciously warm weather for about three days. Neighbors were chatting on the streets, children were in the parks, and teens were riding bikes and walking to the shopping centers. And I was off to the Eastern coast for a change of pace.

I love the ocean as much as I love the mountains. I grew up in the woods with parents who were constantly urging me and my brother to go outside and explore. I feel like I didn't take advantage of that enough as a kid, but as I got older, my wanderlust matured and I'd find a way to leave the trail paths.

Someone left these on a post. I Like this post.

 My parents were also great about taking us camping at least once every year. I've slept in mountains, near creeks, on sand and gravel, under open skies and in the shadows of mountains. But my favorite place to spend outdoor time by far is a pine forest by the sea. Maybe that's oddly specific, but that's my preference. I love the smell of pine trees and the feeling of the ground covered in soft pine needles. They absorb any sound so your steps are muffled. Under the smell of sap, you smell salt and seaweed as the wind carries the sound and smell of frothy ocean water through the trees.

Fishing boat far from the water.

I decided to take a day trip to the Goishi Kaigan between Ofunato and Kesennuma. The Tohoku coast was destroyed in the 2011 Earthquake and Tsunami Disaster. But through hard work and sheer determination, the residents of this area, and most of Japan's citizen's efforts (whether through volunteering or donations), have gradually rebuilt the coast. As you drive along the coast, you see what buildings survived and what didn't. The skeleton buildings and the footprints of others' foundations are scattered along newly paved roads and temporary FEMA-type houses. Even so, life goes on. 

Goishi Kaigan is famous for it's "beaches." In America, we think of a beach and we expect a wide expansive sandy coast. In Japan, a beach could be sandy, but up here in Tohoku, the beaches are exceptionally rocky.

But after centuries of constantly being tossed and rolled by the waves, the rocks are smooth and round. Walking on them is like getting a foot massage! Lying on them after they've baked in the sun is even more blissful!  The Goishi rocks actually resemble the playing pieces in the Japanese game of "go:" specifically, they're mostly marble-like and black.

Goishi Kaigan is also famous for the large rock formations just off the cliffs. One of the most famous is the Kaminariiwa: a large rock that broke off from the larger cliff long ago. The name is actually part onomatopoeia. "Kaminari" means "thunder" and "iwa" means "rock" so it literally is called "Thunder Rock." (Bow chicka wow wow) But as you listen, the way the waves hit the crevices and underwater caves, the resulting sound is exactly like rolling thunder!

I was out there alone and loving every minute of it. I watched birds and spotted some new species for my Life List. I took a few pictures and greeted some Japanese families. But the best part was walking down the hill and walking on a small stony beach alone. Nestled between two cliffs, I sat on the rocks and listened to the waves on the rocks.

It's a beautiful sound and I had a hard time placing where I'd ever heard anything like it. If you can imagine a giant rain stick with marble sized stones instead of small beads...if you think of teeth chattering from the frozen water...if you've seen "Princess Mononoke" or "もののけ姫" and you're familiar with the little white forest spirits called kodoma...

When kodoma -- spirits that symbolize the health of a forest -- shake their heads, the onomatopoeia in Japanese is "taka taka," but it sounds just like the rolling stones on Goishi coast. If I closed my eyes, I could pretend that a thousand kodoma were sitting on the shore with me. I'll remember that sound for the rest of my life.

El Ningyo

It's been an eventful few days. I went out for the first Japanese Girl's Night (女子会: joshikai) I've had in a while. Harue, Chisa and I had a lot to celebrate: One of Harue's heifers just had a calf which she polled Facebook to name. Pinto is the final decision, and it is certainly fitting for a beautiful black and white splotched calf. Chisa passed an exam for her new big-city job in Morioka: now she helps counsel "lonely hearts." Of course, she's such a natural listener, she's perfectly suited to it.  And I passed my driving test and have signed a new contract to stay in Japan for another year.

It was a very fun evening! Chisa knows the owners of a great new yakitori bar in Kitakami where we paid for nomihodai: all you can drink for a couple hours and a couple thousand yen. Amazing food! Chisa taught me another "Japanese woman art," specifically how to get meat off the tiny bamboo skewers. I was gnashing at the bits like a man. As a woman, it's more elegant to use your hashi to pull the meat off, holding the skewer so it stands on the plate vertically. Then, twirl the skewer with your fingers and slide the meat off.

If Audrey Hepburn (whom Chisa idolizes) is any model for alluring feminine behavior, I'm sure she would have eaten her yakitori the same way.

By far, my favorite were poached chicken bits topped with a lightly minty sauce and a pickled plum sauce! Who would have thought? But it was delicious!

I also met a couple of their friends and two different bars. Saito-san taught me about sake: Kiki sake is highly recommended. At the other bar, I met some very lively women. I was desperately sipping water at this point, trying to keep my eyes from floating out of my head, so I think at least one of them was a hair stylist. I also remember that they spent a little time asking me about my hair and checking the color. I am a confessed hair-dyer and my bottle of choice is Beautylabo products. Nevertheless, one of them asked if I'd be interested in hair modeling.

It's sort of vain, maybe, but I've been toying with the idea of modeling for years. I've sat for art projects in college for photographer friends, but never broke into the market. I'm definitely not the "glamazon" you need to be: 6 feet tall and 2 inches wide, with Victoria's Secret boobs and a Calvin Klein booty. I am my own kind of beautiful: I am Audrey Hepburn-eating-yakitori beautiful. But I never considered myself hair-model-worthy. But I'm willing to give anything a try!

So as I mentioned, I signed up for another year teaching. Sadly, I won't be working in Kitakami. I'm staying in town, but all my junior high schools will be in Hanamaki now. I also think my title is changing to ALT which means, more simply, Assistant Language Teacher. This means I'll be operating under the Japanese government's standard "Team Teaching" program. I am 100% okay with this.

Welcome to Hanamaki!

And since I'll be working exclusively in Hanamaki now, it looks like I need to delve a little more into Hanamaki culture. Kitakami is considered an "industrial" city. Lots of shopping, car dealerships, business and young blood. Hanamaki, however, only recently became a city because a few towns sort of amoeba'd into one. This happens to a lot of cities and towns in Japan.

But even though it's now technically a "city," Hanamaki is still made of farming towns full of people with the quiet, steady and deliberate-minded way of thinking and acting. I had noticed a difference in genkiness between my quieter Hanamaki kids and boistrous Kitakami students. The fuku-kocho at one Kitakami school enlightened me. I'm exciting to learn a bit more about this big, quiet city. I doubt it's as "quiet" as he'd have me believe.

It certainly is a culturally rich city. Today, I got hands on at the Hanamaki City Museum painting traditional Ningyo figurines.

Ningyo figures originated between 600 and 300 AD as funerary figurines but have since evolved for many different uses. The styles and their own material changes whether they are the exquisitely dressed, delicate and formal Hinamatsuri dolls, or the chubby-cheeked, terra cotta farmers, cats and boars.

At the museum, if you made a reservation and have about 1500 yen burning a hole in your pocket, you could paint your own ningyo! I sat in a room at one of two newspaper-covered tables with middle-aged and older women and men, all eager to "Gambatte!" After a brief history lesson on ningyo, we were walked through the process: most people had bought the saddled horses, so we were all encouraged to follow the design of the models placed on each table. In the end, everyone with a horse had a white horse with a yellow and black saddle, red bridle and red or blue dressings and white flowers.

It was relaxing to listen to the Japanese buzz around me. The conversation was light, cheerful and minimal while we all focused on the details of our little dolls. Patrons giggled at their own work and praised others', but everyone seemed proud of what they'd accomplished in the end: namely, carrying on an old and, honestly, enjoyable, traditional pastime.

How to Pass the Japanese Driving Test...for 'Muricans.

As if I know what I'm talking about. But with all the congratulations I've received from gracious friends and Japanese teachers, and the skeptic eye-rolling from my American affiliations, I thought I'd put my new found knowledge on the table.

So yes, what you heard is true: just because you  have a license to drive doesn't mean the Japanese Driving Test is going to be easy for you. It's about 20 times harder than that class you took from Triple A. Half of that is because everything you're doing is back-asswards. The average number of attempts it takes to pass is about 4 or 5, but of course it depends on the prefecture, too. I've heard other prefectures have easier or even more difficult tests! I don't know where Iwate falls on that scale, but my philosophy is this: Simple in theory, difficult as hell in practice!

So let's buckle up! Here's the course map from the driving center I attended. The lines are actually photoshopped in by a friend who went to a school to learn some tricks of the trade. On the course we took, he put in color-coded points that told us to look in mirrors, sound a horn, merge and all that. Anal retentive is the word for it, but helpfully so.

The course for "normal" driving tests (class C drivers, in America) changes every week, though not drastically. But one left or right turn can make all the difference.

First of all, it's a merit/demerit system. You start with 100 points. You lose 5 to 10 points for doing various things wrong.

  Overtaking other vehicles testing.
  Not checking your mirrors.
  Going off the course.
  Not doing what the officer says.
  Doing other than what the officer says.
  Forgetting to signal.     
  Forgetting to look in your blindspot (guilty).
  Going too fast on the straightaways.
  Going too slowly through the course (though I cruised along at about 8kmph and it didn't cost me).
  Forgetting to wash your hands before the test. (Just kidding: but I had a dream I lost .5 points for that)

Also be aware that professionalism counts. People have lost points for:   

1. Wearing open-toed shoes (Dude, who wants to see your Lamisil-troll-ridden toes?)
2. Girls wearing high heels (I know, technically not safe but come on. Fabulousity pushes the boundaries!)
3. Celebrating in the waiting room (I think the idea is that it looks like you're sticking it to the people who didn't pass, so...fair.)
4. Arguing with the officer after failing. (Really? Really? When is it ever a good idea to contest with an officer? Regardless of the country.)

The Elements of the Test:

Safety Check - Even before you get in the car, lock down the perimeter. Lock it down like it's freaking Fort Knox. Look left and right and cross the imaginary highway to get to the car. Then look around and under the car. Exaggerate! Army crawl under it if you need to, but general rule of thumb is if the officer doesn't see you doing it, it doesn't count...and they're constantly writing on their notepad so they're not watching you 100% of the time. So do everything longer and bigger than normal. Nothing should feel normal. Normal is for "Dangerous" Drivers.

Start Up - Okay, you've made it into the car. Order is important here. This was my experience: Adjust the seat, rear view mirror and strap in. Ask the officer to strap in too, but he won't. He'll notice if you ask, though and that'll help you. Next comes the "head-swivel" or "6-point turn." With your head and shoulders, look over your left shoulder, at the left side mirror, rearview, right side mirror, over your right shoulder and forward. Then, turn on the car, put it in drive and release the emergency brake. Before you hit the gas, Right turn signal and look out the right side, looking up and down the "street" for "traffic." When it's "safe," pull out and then signal Left to enter the course. Anytime you signal, hit that 6-point turn with intense deliberation. As far as you know the streets are crawling with horrible drivers and porcelain vases.

The Speed Zones - Depending on the driving center, the car is probably different than what you're used to. In my case, the center's car is a modified taxi and to get up to the required speeds takes a lot more effort than I'm used to. The first zone asks you to get to 50 kmph. Near impossible because if you don't hit the gas with just the right pressure, you won't get over 40. I made the mistake of thinking sooner is better than later, but the officer did not appreciate being thrown back in his seat when I stood on the gas my second time. So aim for about 5 kmph under the required speed..and READ THE NUMBERS as you hit them, more to yourself but loud enough for him to hear.

LEFT TURN -  Left signal. Rearview. Left side mirror. Left shoulder. Forward. Scooch to the left side of the road without running off the course. Pump your brakes lightly, but don't come to a full stop. You sort of want to idle alone. Look Right, Left, Right. LOOK OVER YOUR LEFT SHOULDER!!!! Then turn tight against the corner, none of that wide-turn nonsense.

RIGHT TURN - Right signal. Rearview. Left side mirror. Left shoulder. Forward. Scooch to the center line. Pump your brakes. Look Right, Left, Right. Sort of check your window in case "someone" is crossing the street. Turn right...at an intersection, there is a white diamond in the middle of the crossroads: for the love of god, don't hit it. Pretend it's herpes. Stay AWAY from it.

Intersections - At a light signal, if you cross on a yellow light, it's an instant failure. Yellow may as well be red. Also, you have to stop a good few feet behind the intersection line. It feels ridiculous, but you should see that line ahead of your bumper. Even if your tires are behind it, you'll lose points! When the light changes again, do your 6-points AND the Right, Left, Right.

Stop Signs - Same thing as a red light. Stay well away from the white line. The additional move is waiting a solid 3 seconds before you do anything! Just zone out. Make your shopping list in your head. Sing your favorite part of a Taylor Swift song. 3 seconds have passed. Do your 6-point then check for "traffic."

Obstructed View - There are usually large walls or corrugated barriers set up at a couple corners to block your view. You have to just creep as creepily as you can creep out, constantly looking up Right, Left, Right...Right, Left, Right. Mutter to yourself (like I did...it makes you sound like you're frustrated with the city developers: who'd put two stores right on the corner like that? You're going to be late if you can see this road!) Actually crane your neck and lean over the wheel!

Road Obstacles - I just had green cones to avoid, some places have other cars or a big truck...or a tractor! However, if they're not part of the course and are actually other testers and you pass them without say-so from the officer: insta-fail. Signal Right and do your Rearview, Right Mirror and Right Shoulder looks, merge into the lane, then immediately signal to go back to the Left. CHECK YOUR BLINDSPOT!

The (Infamous) Crank - The Crank is just a narrow strip of concrete made of two right angles. I failed miserably the first time because I didn't know how to move the car and didn't know I could actually back up and hit the barriers. I failed the second time because I didn't realize you should check all your mirrors the whole time when you're backing up...and then do the 6-points when you go forward again...even though you'd be in an alley in a Crank Situation. So, stay away from the inside edge when you have to turn, and if you have to back up, you can but holy hell check your mirrors and remember to look around before you move forward again.

The (Not-So-Bad) S-Turn - Slightly wider than the Crank, it's just a big serpentine path you have to stay on. Some places ask you to keep a turn signal on, but that was not my case.

Other Tips:

With a smile! You might be ready to vomit from nerves, but always smile.
Be polite: they are your sensei after all. Say "Yoroshiku onegaishimasu" and be complacent as can be.
Again, overact everything! You should feel like an extra from "The Exorcism of Emily Rose" with your head spinning so violently.
Whenever the officer says something, DO IT RIGHT NOW! Give a verbal acknowledgement too.
Slow and steady passes the test. Really, you have to crawl along if you're going to do all the required steps long and big enough for them to notice.
Be an actor/actress! Actually imagine seeing traffic or bikers or children, or they will call your bluff.
Look like you're here on purpose. I hate to say it, really, but I didn't wear a skirt and blouse until my third day. Japanese testers I saw wore casual clothes, but I don't know how they fared. Maybe it's how you present yourself, maybe it has nothing to do with it. But I'd just say it doesn't hurt to be on the safe side.

It also helps to have great friends like mine who gave me wonderful advice based on their previous efforts. Some elected to go to a driving school, some actually rented the course for a couple hours to practice on site. It's expensive and time consuming, but they passed before me, so there's something to it. That was plan B for me if I couldn't pass on the third time.

My last weird tip: practice practice practice. Even when you're not in the car.  Pretend to walk the course, go through the motions, just get that muscle memory. Practice in your car, at your desk, in your friend's car...and on the toilet. Weirder things have happened.

Abunai Abunai Abunai

Do you remember the feeling you had when you finally had a driver's license? That feeling of freedom, adulthood incarnate in a plastic card. Your awkward half-grimace/half-smile squinting back at you from behind the shimmering holographic seal. The world was your oyster and the only thing holding you back was your seat belt.

Flash forward and you're living in Japan, driving on the wrong...oops, sorry, left...side of the road. Traffic lights are horizontal and red, yellow and "blue." Stop signs are in kanji and shaped like  yield sign. And the windshield wipers and turn signals are switched. You spend your first month smearing bugs on your windshield when all you want to do is turn left.

Come early spring, it's time to upgrade your international driving permit to the real deal. First step, look at your passport. Are you from the UK? Australia? New Zealand? Certain parts of Africa? The moon? Lucky you: you just have to pass a written test and hand in a handful of papers. Oh, you're from America?

Let the fun begin.

I was wondered why I was so "blessed" and actually found out: because Americans receive state issued driver's licenses, not government issued, they're not really considered as following a standard code of road safety requirements. One state's ideals could vary from another...well, let's be honest, Pennsylvania drivers? Yeah. Japan might actually have something there.

You'd think since I've been driving here for almost a year with no moving violations, I could just be "grandfathered" into receiving a license, but nope. Not when there's paperwork to do! Some of the process was-gasp-actually fun! I enjoyed going to the City Hall and getting a copy of my resident certificate: a great opportunity to practice some formal Japanese. I liked going to Morioka for my Japanese Translation of an American License: the gents at the office were friendly...and cute! And I enjoy the occasional drive to Morioka from time to time. It gives me an excuse to stop at cafe and get a little baked treat and foamy beverage.

All that's done and over, though. The next step in the process after compiling the documents is going to the driving center with a hired helper to have said documents examined. Keep in mind, it's been a couple months since you started. So naturally, your heart screams "DOKI DOKI DOKI DOKI" as you sit, rigid-backed, while the grandfatherly police officer flips through your papers and asks you questions through the interpreter.

You're asked about when you got your license...18? So late? Oh...what's a "provisional" license. Ah, like a "junior" license. Ok Ok. You're asked how long you drove in America. What kind of car? Manual? Automatic? American? Oh, Honda? Yes, yes, number 1!

And on and on. All you can think is, I'm charming. Look at me. Look how charming I am. Be charmed by me. Let me survive the inquisition!

Hooray! You passed the exam. Pony up some dough and set a date to return and take the written test and driving practicum. Ojii-san smiles and tells you he thinks you'll pass the written test, no problem. But you notice his obvious neglect to say you'll pass the driving test. And the laughing faces of the Japanese teachers float into your memory from when you told them what you'd be doing this week. "Good luck," the faces laugh. "Good luck."

Before leaving, the helper shows you the driving course behind the building and the posted course for that week. It changes bi-weekly, but it's good to know...ahead of time. She also draws a map of the course you will take and gives you detailed, handy tips including where to stop and look around and what to watch out for. It's a long list.

The day arrives. Thank goodness another co-worker is going up to the center and offers you a ride, so you don't have to figure out the bus schedule. (Personally, I think I have trust issues...I don't trust myself to get on the right bus or get off at the right stop. This was a problem in America, too)

The written test isn't difficult at all. With only 10 questions, thankfully provided in English and with illustrations, you pass easily. Of course, you're a paranoid mess, so in the waiting room, you flip through your English translation of the driving manual and check your answers.

Finally, it's time. In your mind, you roll through the steps to take before even getting in the car:

Walk around and check around and under the vehicle.
Approach the driver's door.
Look over your left shoulder.
Open the door.
Bow and say "Yoroshiku onegaishimasu."
Resume breathing.

When you get in, adjust everything. Listen to the Japanese instructions. Barely understand. Begin.

Signal right.
Look over your shoulder.
Signal left.
Look over your shoulder.
Start the course.
Resume breathing...briefly.

The course looks easy enough, but memorizing the steps and putting them into practice behind the wheel of an unfamiliar car are totally separate. For example, I've been driving my little K-car, roughly the length of a coffee table. The car at the driving center is more like a limousine.

So I failed. I expected it, of course, I'm not naive. But I didn't think I'd fail halfway through.

At one point, you enter the "L-turn" and the "crank" which are very tight and angular paths that you must maneuver without straying from the road or hitting the barriers around the path. I made it through the first corner of the L and tried making the second...only to hear the sharp intake of breath beside me and tap the nose of the car into the barrier.

Instant fail.

"Abunai, abunai, abunai," he tells you. Dangerous.

At this point, I found out I also hadn't looked over my shoulder properly for the left turns I made. Upon consulting with the other foreigner, it's more likely I was just looking too fast for him to count the effort.

So we went back to the starting point and I made a reservation for another test. The woman who takes the money for reservations smiled and asked if I was nervous, then wished me good luck for the next time.

Tomorrow, I'll return for take two. We can only improve, right?

Full Circle

Believe it or not, it's been almost a year. Short by just a few days, but now I'm done teaching for the school year. I won't sign my new contract until next week and I won't start teaching again until mid April...

Guess who's living on rice and packaged curry for a while?

I left my last Kitakami school in high spirits and with a heavy heart. During lunch, I enjoyed eating with the kids. It's fun to just see them interacting with each other in a relaxed setting, just being kids. I talk to them in English a little to just sort of give the impression of being a teacher, but mostly, I listen or pipe up with a little Japanese to practice my own skills. Then we all say "Gochisousama deshita" and put away our trays, and I say thank you and see-you to the class.

But last Thursday was a little different. As I gathered my hashi and milk to go back to the teacher's room, two boys approached me and asked me to wait for a minute. The class put their desks in order again, then I was ushered to the front of the room. The genki-est boy in the class started talking...I caught "Fight-o" and jokingly started jabbing the air. The students giggled, then the boy kept talking.

Then suddenly, he leaned back with his hands cupped around his mouth. He started screaming the school "fight cheer." I remembered him leading his class in the cheers from Sports Day last year and his voice, coming from a scrawny second year boy, almost knocked me over! But this time, the cheer was a little different.

Instead of "Fight-o, Fight-o" he screamed, in English, "Thank you...Thank you...Ma-ru-ta!"

Then, the whole class was standing and clapping in rhythm, screaming "THANK YOU THANK YOU, MARUTA! THANK YOU THANK YOU, MARUTA!"

I admit to getting a bit emotional. I wanted to cry, but had to hold it back. The poor boy saw how teary eyed I was and his friend jokingly told him to say sorry! Of course I told him it was fine and I said, "Thank you, thank you! I'm very happy" to them all.

At the end of the day, when I was leaving, the teachers all said goodbye and see-you...then outside in the hall was another group of students and a third year cheer boy. They gave me the same loud send off. I'll miss those kids and the teachers. It was a great school, and I'm sorry to be leaving. But I made sure I would leave a little part of me with the third years, and I made sure I left with a little part of them.

My last third year class was the average learning level. The teacher wanted something easy and fun for them, so asked the students to write a personal message in Japanese and try to make an English translation. It could be a saying or just something nice. The point was to practice translating and then hand it in to me. In exchange, I gave them all a slip of paper with a Japanese saying:

"If you don't enter the tiger's cage, you won't get its cub." And the English equivalent: "You'll never know until you try."

They left me with these:

Do your best.
Never give up!!
Fall 7 times, get up 8.
Try again.
Don't forget smile.
You'll be alright.
When other people make a mistake, You should welcome it and you should learn from the mistake.
Fight!!!!!!
Keeping work is a power. (Continuance is its own power.)
Everyone makes mistakes.
Dream doesn't finish.
Life lasts forever.

Hina Dinna

ひなまつり！ Tomorrow is March 3rd, or as the Japanese say, "Hina Matsuri!" It's the festival of girls, where families pray for their daughters' health and happiness...and eventually a good marriage! Now, I know what you're thinking: Geez, another festival? Wow, how do you keep up with all of these holidays? How do you know what holiday is coming up?

Marketing, my friends. Marketing.

For the past month, supermarkets have been swathed entirely in pink banners, pink sakura mochi and traditionally pink or white Hina snack stands at the end of each aisle, and paper peach flowers...which also happen to be pink. And everyone is emblazoned with "ひなまつり" so I had a funny feeling something was on it's way.

Incidentally, while Hina Matsuri is a well-known and nationally celebrated festival, it's not a national holiday like "Kodomo no Hi" (Children's Day)...which is more commonly celebrated as a Boy's Day. My feminist side just got a little indignant.

Anyway, standard practice for Hina Matsuri is a family oriented evening. Each family might have it's own traditions, but it's generally home-based with a wealth of universal tradition and stories. I had the privilege of learning a little more about Hina Matsuri over dinner with F.K.'s family last week.

Let me take you back to last Monday, a day before my last day at いい中学校. F.K. dropped by my desk and invited me to dinner again. He later sent me a message on Line saying his daughters were looking forward to talking again and to inform me that his wife would be working late.

FK: "My daughter will cook. Would you like Western style or traditional Japanese food to eat?"

Me: "I love Japanese food. Please ask her to cook what she likes to make." (Seriously, I wasn't about to go demanding some lavish Thanksgiving feast!)

On Thursday evening, F.K. and his second eldest daughter picked me up and drove me to the house. I was greeted by the youngest daughter...and a beautiful traditional Hina Matsuri meal! In the center of the table was a large bamboo bowl with a flat bottom, stuffed to the top with chirashi-zushi (meaning "scattered sushi): rice seasoned with vinegar and sugar, tossed with diced raw fish or thin ribbons of egg, pink fish flakes that had been shredded into a cotton-candy like consistency (and appearance!).

Then the youngest daughter set the table with the hashi, moist hand towels, bowls of clear miso soup and a small covered dish on a coaster. They explained it all:

Hina Matsuri dates back to the Heian Period (794-1185 AD). Originally, the festival was for relieving a community of bad luck or demons. Standard practice was to fill a boat with straw dolls, burden the straw-men, as it were, and send them on their way out to sea. But somewhere down the line, this stopped being so appealing and attention turned primarily to little girls and possibly spooking off any ill-intentioned demons by praying for luck and happiness on behalf of the children.

Families give daughters a doll for the festival, so some collections can be huge!

But the history remained: traditionally, the dolls are arranged in a specific tableau and wearing beautifully ornate Heian era clothing in a scene depicting a lavish old-style wedding! The beautiful dolls are displayed on red-carpeted tiers in a prominent part of the house. The queen of the dolls and her husband reside on the top shelf, and the additional dolls move down the display and elaborate on the story.

The second layer has the sake-bearing court ladies. Each has another sake-serving tool. They are followed by the musicians (taiko, flute, singers...). The next layer hosts court ministers, a young and elderly one. Next are the protectors of the emperor and empress, usually depicted as three samurai in various characters of drink: a maudlin, mean, and merry band, they be!

Subsequent layers have a whole host of what could be equated with Barbie's wealth of accessories: carriages, kimono chests, braziers, sewing box, tea ceremony tools...collect them all!

Now, in the Heian Period, one of the most valuable commodities was the...wait for it...egg.

"Eggs were very costly," F.K. explained. "You could not eat eggs any day. They were for very wealthy families. Or very special days. Like a wedding, you see."

So for Hina Matsuri, families would save their money and pull together a lavish meal that consisted heavily of the expensive treat. The crowning glory of the chirashi-zushi was the shredded egg layer, but by far, the most valuable course was the chawanmushi: a savory custard. Anyone who has watched Food Network at 2am knows that custard is basically a big bowl of eggs. A lot of eggs. Many eggs.

At that time, eating chawanmushi would be like one of us average Joes going out for that 14karat gold ice cream sundae.

As I said before, each family has it's own little twist when it comes to the traditions. The miso, for example, is supposed to have fresh clams. F.K.'s daughter doesn't like them...so tofu makes a fitting substitute! (Just as well, because to me, clams taste like evil snot) As for the chawanmushi, different regions have their own twists. Tohoku is famous for wild kuri (chestnuts) so waiting for me under the little shrimp, tofu and green herbs was a big old chestnut! Oishii!

I was enjoying my little cultural lesson, sipping away at my miso, moving in and out of Japanese with the daughters when I heard F.K.

"Haruko-san, do you know the Japanese style of eating?" He was holding his half empty miso bowl.

I thought for a moment. What could he be referring to? "Make a noise, when you eat soup?" I asked, taking a cue from his bowl.

"When you eat," he explained, putting his miso down, and picking up his rice. "You should eat a little of this," he put down the bowl, then picked up his miso again. "...then a little..." he slurped. "...then a little of something else." and he scooped some custard from the bowl. We all looked at my now empty miso bowl.

"Marta-chan!" the girls laughed.

See, my habit has always been very methodical: start with one food, finish it, move on to the next. My brother eats like this too. But, my very Western style of eating is not socially kosher here. F.K. told me that to eat a little of each dish in succession is healthier, but it's also a good way to show appreciation to the cook. It shows you find everything equally tasty and you're very grateful for the effort.

Otherwise, you just look like you're dissatisfied and picking at your food like a petulant brat. Immediately, I apologized and aptly showed my gratitude. So, yeah. Never again. 

Around this time, F.K.'s wife came home early! She joined us for the end of the meal, and we all had a very nice time. At the end, they pulled out the next part of the lesson in Hina Matsuri cuisine: dessert and sweets. The primary dessert is sakura mochi: azuki bean paste-filled rice cakes, colored pink and wrapped in an edible sakura leaf. I love sweets and I love mochi, so I couldn't have been happier.

Another common treat is actually portrayed in the traditional Hina Doll stand: "hishimochi." They're tri-colored, diamond shaped rice cakes. The pink layer is to scare off bad spirits, the white for a girl's purity and green for health. 

See the pedestal behind her?

Available at your local su-pa-!

Then, the daughters set out a bowl full of something that looked like pastel colored cereal. It was Hina Arare: puffed bits of rice, colored and sweetened. I tried one...then had to stop myself from eating the entire bowl! The nearest equivalent I can think to compare with Arare (which literally means "bits" or "pieces") has to be Alphabit Cereal.

"Try one of the brown ones," F.K. coaxed. He'd been pretty mischievous all evening, so I was a bit wary. The youngest daughter made a face while he urged her to not give away the secret. Warily, I picked up a small tan bit and popped it in my mouth. Soybean! Dried, sugar coated soybean. I loved it, and we all laughed: he daughter hates them! Her earwax Bertie Bott's.

They explained that a lot of the snacks sold for Hina Matsuri are just as sweet, sometimes even sweeter! Along with arare, sakura mochi and hishimochi, there are small and large hard candies, pink cookies, strawberries dipped in white chocolate, and of course, shirozake: sweet white sake.

It's much sweeter than regular sake and less alcoholic because it hasn't fermented for as long. So children are welcome to drink and be merry...before passing out, to their parents' relief.

To finish the evening, I was treated to a casual but sophisticated form of the Japanese tea ceremony.

"Matcha time, matcha time," sang F.K.'s wife. The youngest daughter got out the large tea bowls, the hot water machine, matcha tin, bamboo whisk and put it all on the table. Her older sister then scooped a small amount of powder into a bowl and tapped the scoop once on the rim. She added the water and then, with the whisk, made two sweeping motions ( the character "の" after her preferred tea-making style), then started whisking quickly. At last, she made one more swoop and passed the bowl to me. She made another for her mother, and the older woman showed me what to do. Holding the bowl in one hand, use the other to rotate it so the design painted on the bowl faces the tea-maker. Sip three times, then take in the last gusto!

We all had a few bowls of tea, then it was time for me to get going. I'd made a paper crane for everyone to show my thanks for their repeated hospitality. Then I left with the two girls. It was a wonderful evening: I was expecting another delicious nabe and never thought in a million years I'd be sharing a delicious, Hina Matsuri meal with a Japanese family.

I may be far away from my own family, but I'm lucky to have such supportive parents who, even without the mochi, sweet sake and 12-layered kimono-wearing dolls, I know wish me health and happiness. So daughters, go hug your parents. Parents, give your little girl some sugar. Because your mutual health and happiness relies so heavily on each other, and it's important to remember that.

And hey, if worse comes to worse, just throw the blame on a scarecrow and set it down the river.