Typhoon Me Once, Shame on You...

While my parents were visiting me in Kitakami, we spent part of our last day together scraping together a plan for when we met down south. While we were eating lunch in the Ofunato katsu restaurant, we saw Typhoon Halong was lingering off the Kyushu coast. We were a bit apprehensive, so we decided to meet in Kyoto on Saturday instead of Hakata on Sunday, wait out the worst of the storm and get to Sasebo together.

It meant I would have to forgo a paid night bus trip, but it also meant I wouldn't be enjoying a sleepless, white-knuckled midnight terror ride through a typhoon.

It also meant I could find a sake brewery for us to tour in Kyoto while we had the time. Kyoto is not only a beautiful city, but it is basically the cultural hub of Japan. A lot of art styles, craftsmanship, food, tea traditions started in Kyoto and then spread throughout the country. But more on Kyoto later, this is about the sake.

Sake, for those unfortunate enough to have never heard of it (truly, I'm sorry), is in short rice wine. Beer has hops. Wine is grape-tastic. Sake is silver gold. And Kyoto is a goldmine.

I grew up drinking Gekkeikan sake at New Year's with my parents, and I found the brewery is in Kyoto, a few minutes train ride south of the city. They offer admission to their brewery museum for about 300 yen, and with that you get to guide yourself through the museum, read English placards and drink some samples at the end. It's gotten great reviews by tourists, so I bookmarked it.

And then I found Yamamoto Honke. Just a block north, in the same Fushimi area, Yamamoto brewery has been in business since 1677! Fushimi lies over a pristine water table which has been storing water filtered through the perfect combination and depth of limestone and other rocks. Breweries draw this beautiful water out of the ground and use it for their sake brewing from washing the locally produced rice to feeding the process as required.

I was interested in Yamamoto Honke, so I sent an email to see if they were giving tours during the summer. Right away, let me tell you, the people of Yamamoto Honke are the sweetest, most accommodating, friendly people. Reina Yamamoto, wife to the current president's son (who will be the 12th generation owner some day!) emailed me. She said that since they were not brewing during the summer, the brewery wasn't really open.

But they were always willing to do tours when people asked! I was happily-guiltily surprised! I wasn't expecting to be offered a personal tour, but I was certainly excited. I thanked her right away and made sure it wasn't going to be an inconvenience for her. (There's protocol, people!) She assured me it wouldn't and she invited the three stooges for a Sunday morning tour and lunch at the on-site yakitori restaurant.

I'd been watching the weather nervously all week and was banking on the typhoon hitting the Kyoto area on Saturday and moving on by Sunday. My parents and I were planning on seeing a couple temples or museums (saw the craft museum and learned how kimono prints are done. Mind. Blown.) anyway, so the weather could do whatever it wanted as long as Sasebo was left unscathed.

Halong took that as a cue to take its own sweet time and stall out over the south eastern coast. Sunday morning, the beast was in full swing over Kyoto. Trains were being delayed and while we paid for shinkansen tickets out of town for after our tour, the clerk at the counter couldn't guarantee we'd be able to leave after 1:30. Ok, so a time limit. No big: Fushimimomoyama station is only about a 15 minute ride and the brewery is within walking distance. A little rain is no big. We had umbrellas. We could deal.

Well, we made it to the station, soggy, early and glaring at the horizontal rain flying down the street. Our umbrellas were bent on turning migratory and flipped inside out on occasion. Pros that we are, we just kept holding them into the wind until they snapped back in place. Yeah, we're pretty cool like that.

When we made it to the brewery, the gates were closed. We took shelter at the Gekkeikan's museum down the road, under the awning because the actual museum was closed. I called Reina and told her we were a bit early. She said she'd meet us at the brewery and let us inside. She hadn't expected the weather to be so bad, so they'd be a bit late.

Reina Yamamoto: Tour guide extraordinaire

No, relax, we got inside at about 10:20. Reina has perfect English and introduced us to her husband, the all-mighty future lord of the manor...brewery. After putting on our hair nets and booties, Reina first pointed out the "water floor" where we were standing. It was just a cement floor, but here she introduced us to the special, high quality spring water directly below the floor!

Upstairs, she began the tour. There are three major components to sake: the rice, the yeast and the water. An astounding amount of attention to detail goes into each. Well, for the water, it's just about picking the right source. Who wants tainted grey water in their sake cup? No, thanks.

As for the rice, Yamamoto Honke outsources to local farmers who not only grow the rice, but polish it, or remove a certain amount of the outer hull. Like a tootsie pop: you want that sweet, delicious, high quality nugget of deliciousness that's buried in the center.

Just add rice, sugar, yeast and a little hands on massage

That doesn't mean the outer part doesn't have it's own character. The taste and smoothness of the sake comes from how much of the rice has been polished and how much remains. This gets a bit confusing so bear with me:


The highest quality of sake is 35%. That's how much of the rice remains. Then there's 50%. The most common sake is 75%, where most of the original rice is still there, it's just been given a nice buff, really. That's what college students who want to feel cultured but don't like Manhattans drink. Or what you drink if you don't live in Japan where anything more than 50% is just an insult.

You can call her "Mom"

We met all the machines including the washers (note: the rice isn't just blasted or soaked in a tepid bath: it's spun in a metal bin while the spring water is sprayed gently at an angle, not right on the delicate rice) and even the "Mother." Anyone who's made the mistake of experimenting with sourdough starter knows what a Mother is, but it's basically a thick yeast culture that you keep adding your ingredients to and make your whole batch from.

Yamamoto Honke sake is also very hands on. There is usually only one sake master at each brewery, and, as Reina explained, because the things like analyzing, tasting and seasoning the sake can't be standardized, each brewery's sake master produces a unique product! His skills are only passed down to an apprentice who will eventually, maybe unwittingly, put his own techniques in and create a slightly different sake. It's a living, growing, evolving creature, the sake.

Sake is also a very sensitive little beast. Because the yeast are living little critters, they have to have the right conditions to ferment the rice and sugar (which, by the way, is added and mixed by hand at Yamamoto!), sake has to be brewed in the winter when the temperatures are more forgiving. Higher quality sake is also brewed in a small, wood-lined room where only the sake master's sterilized presence is allowed. Even walking in after eating nuts or yogurt would contaminate the sake brewed in there because the wood absorbs every single particle that comes to visit!

We'd let Reina know when we met outside that our shinkansen was at 1:15, so she assured us she'd get us on the train back in time.

Again, what service! People, find a Yamamoto Honke sake and order a case of the stuff. I cannot recommend them enough. I'm not speaking just out of gratitude for how we were treated, but from experience. Their sake is like drinking a unicorn's tears of bliss after it's flown over the Milky Way.

In all seriousness, their sake is the best I've ever tasted. Really, it's amazing and it breaks my heart to think that I'll probably never afford a bottle of their 35%, but I'm glad it lasted. Typhoon Halong could pound on the doors all it wanted, but my parents and I were sitting in the sake shop being served cup after cup of sake. We learned about pairing the different kinds and which ones are purely for drinking to enjoy the taste of the sake.

Reina also explained the special little cups. When you drink sake, you drink from a tiny cup. Sake is rich and very strong, so you only want to take a bit at a time. Sake graders use special cups with blue rings painted on the bottom so they can grade the clarity: apparently, a seasoned sake grader can detect different levels of yellowness in the sake!

At first, I was impressed with myself and said I could detect a little yellow...until Reina kindly pointed out the fluorescent lights over the table. More sake, please.

Reina also poured some very new sake: her husband's own creations! In Japan, there's some concern that younger people aren't embracing sake the way their parents did. So he created fruit flavored sake to spark a new interest. And it worked! One of the new blends won an award for best new sake! I believe it was the Asian lime...much sweeter than a key lime, with no tartness! There was also a lemony flavor and a plum, but the lime was amazing!

He also invented matcha sake! It's a very different taste, definitely heavy on the matcha, a tiny bit sweet and finishing with that beautiful, heady sake effect.

Oh, that's just where I keep my heirloom gold bars

The restaurant is a beautiful Japanese style. It figures because Reina told us the area where we were seated was formerly the founder's garden! The original stones, stone lantern and porch steps were still there! It just had tables and a roof. Behind our table up on the porch was a separate room. Reina told us this is where a family would store their valuables "like kimono, weapons and bars of gold."

To finish off our sake, we ordered some variety skewers (including chicken hearts and skins: yum!). When we were done, a waiter came and told us our taxi was here. They had actually ordered a taxi for us so we wouldn't have to walk to the station in the typhoon!

In high spirits, we careened through the streets back to the JR station. After the taxi pulled away, however, we learned the train would be delayed at least an hour...not until long after 1. I panicked. There were two other train stations a couple blocks away, but I hated the idea of making my parents dash through the storm. Worse, I hated the idea of my parents having bought our tickets and then losing that money.

Speaking of which, I'm about 99% sure I left my 5 day all day JR train pass at that dingy little station full of disagreeable conductors. But I didn't realize my mistake until we were well on our way to Sasebo. The confusion and frustration of contending with this stupid typhoon had me scatter-brained, and I think I just left it on the counter. I hope someone enjoyed their 5 non-consecutive days of unlimited 24 hour JR train riding.

The people at the station finally got through to me that the next train to Kyoto was leaving the nearest station in 7 minutes. Alright. It was about 12:20, we could do it. We could do it.

Useless umbrellas inside out under our arms, we sprinted through the rain. In any other situation, it would have been exhilarating, but I was freaking out about the time. I'm proud of my parents though: they boogied! We must have been an interesting sight, mad-dashing down the Fushimi streets in driving wind and rain, screaming encouraging "I'm still here! Don't stop!s" to each other.

We weren't able to fully calm down and breathe normally until we were finally on the shinkansen out of Kyoto. As our shoes leaked rain water, we laughed and reminisced about the sake to take our minds off the stitches in our sides.

While it wasn't the prettiest day I've had on vacation, it was certainly the most memorable. I'm already planning to go back in the fall when they start brewing the next batch. Maybe I'll buy some of that lime sake and tenderly gaze at my 35% one that got away.

Parent Invasion Part 5: To Oigen and Beyond

Nambu tekki day! Nambu tekki refers to the style of making iron teapots that are famous in Iwate. The lords who settled in this area noticed the sand was naturally loaded with iron ore and became very good at extracting it. Then the possibilities were endless.

Sounds very "Mononoke," no?

But fortunately, this story has a happy ending. The iron teapot has become very popular in America thanks to companies like Teavana which specializes in the teapots and all kinds of blends of dried teas...and those really cool tea flowers that bloom in hot water.

Heavy Metal Dancing

The traditional style is really famous close to Kitakami in the town of Misawa. Mom was really excited to see a factory if there was time, so of course, I made time. On Monday, we drove to Misawa to find a foundry. One of the most famous is the Oigen company. I had a general idea of the location, but nothing was definite. The plan was get to town, look for signs, case closed.

Well, we saw one sign pointing to a culture center, then nothing. We got to the station which led us to the nambu tekki museum. Warmer, but not quite. Then we found a map of what looked like either shops or maybe factories. We decided on an area and headed out. Just down the road, we drove past a large building that looked like a store house. Through the smokey windows, we saw shelves of teapots and decided to have a quick peek.

Turns out, this was the Oigen company's factory!!! We just stumbled upon it! Upstairs was a beautiful (and well-air conditioned) show room and store. When a short woman greeted us, we spoke in a little English asking about touring the factory. She got across that the crew was on lunch for the next 10 minutes. Another employee came over to talk in fluent English. She confirmed the ironworkers were having lunch but a tour would take place at 1. Perfect! we said.

We chilled and strolled through the store. A few more people came in including a couple journalists judging by the size of their cameras. When we were gathered, we were given green baseball caps and led downstairs.

The factory was in full swing, hot, noisy and hella dangerous. Molten iron was pouring out of a huge flaming furnace at one end and a giant tumbler was buffing the cast iron pots in progress. We saw the sand extracting process and employees polishing and etching some pots.

Everyone was very friendly and hands on about showing us around the factory. When it was all done, we went back upstairs and did a little shopping. I got a bell shaped like a fish.

Time for more culture! We journeyed back up the road to the Michinoku Folklore Village. Dad walked all the way from the station to the open air museum last year when he needed something to do while I was still working. So he and I tag-teamed on this one and showed Mom our favorite houses.

 He was especially interested in the wall of family crests. He carves a little as a hobby and is always looking for something new and interesting. Japanese family crests have the kind of natural beauty and geometry he looks for.

Checking out the coffee plants

Towards the end, it started raining pretty heavily, so we wrapped up the tour and headed back into town. There was one more thing of Mom's list for Kitakami: visit a 100 yen store. I took her to Seria and Daiso in the Sakurano to show her the difference. Biggest difference: one has cake mix, crackers, tea and curry.

For dinner, we ate Japanese style in the mall in a restaurant with low tables and tatami mats. We ordered some nice set meals and my parents got to try chawan-mushi. Dad compared it to chicken dumpling soup if the dumplings soaked up all the broth, and my mother discovered she doesn't hate okra the way she used to.

Dinner complete, laundry retrieved from my apartment, (bow in reverence: I washed my parents' clothes!) we drove back to the hotel. After we confirmed meeting dates, we parted ways. On Tuesday morning, they were taking the shinkansen to Tokyo  and would take a bus part of the way up Fuji. Yep. My intrepid parents were off to climb Mt. Fuji. I was worried but excited, just like them. The weather had me worried, but I knew they'd be fine.

*Recent update: they made the climb and descent just fine. And the weather was actually perfect!

Parent Invasion Part 4: Pacific, Meet Parents

It was time to get out of town again. The day was off to a cloudy, cool start and there would be more dancing during the last day of the festival. However, it was the perfect time to take my parents to see Goishi Kaigan, the pebble beach near Ofunato.

I grew up taking summer, Christmas, and Easter road trips with my parents and brother. My seat of choice was always behind the driver. But this time, I was in the driver's seat driving my parents east through the mountains. When we finally emerged on the other side, the day had cleared and warmed up. Still, Ofunato was about 4 degrees Celsius cooler than Kitakami, complete with a chilly sea breeze. At Goishi, the wild lilies were all in bloom. There were also birds dodging between the trees.

My dad is an avid aviary enthusiast. Birds are his crack. Case in point, every few steps, we'd see a tawny streak flit up to a branch and stop for about 10 minutes while we squinted through binoculars and tried to pick out characteristics to identify later.

The tide was coming in, so the Kamiiwa "Thunder Rock" wasn't quiet so thunderous, but it was impressive. We looked out at the water and saw the wakame nets waiting for harvest in the coming months. Then we continued down to the rocky beach. Mom and I kicked off our shoes and we waded into the icy water. Every so often, we'd be surprised by a big surge and scream in delight. Our sissy squeals were put to shame when a grandfather and his grandson came down and dove right into the waves to snorkel a tad.

Mom, Dad and I listened to one of the 100 Soundscapes of Japan and looked for bits of shell. I wandered around a corner and stood on a smooth, lumpy rock out of the water. My little inlet had a large rock wall behind me and the cove in front. As Mom came around to stand in front of me, her big smile was replaced with a shriek as a wave rolled in.

She started hopping around and then she looked up at me, mouth wide open in astonishment.

"Did you see the fish?!" she shouted over the waves.

"What fish?" I shouted back. I didn't see no stinking fish.

Then, the next wave rolled in and two dozen dark teal mackerel were flopping on the stones behind me! Their 7 inch bodies twitched and flipped, sparking in the light, orange mouths frantically gasping. We squealed like children. As each little wave came in, we realized the fish were either not being reached or were being pushed further up the beach. Finally, we took action and started scooping up fish.

Of course, they kept flipping around in our hands, so the best we could do was scoot them back to the water. When they were deep enough, they'd arch up out of the water, using their tails to give a moon-walking adieu to their saviors.

After that grand adventure, it was time to grab some lunch. I remembered the place with the shiba inu where Limor and I ate. It took a little creative driving and some back alleys, but I found it! And of course the very friendly shiba was out front to greet us.

Inside, we sat at the table with the sunken fish tank and ordered katsudon sets. While we ate, we watched the news and were alarmed to learn Typhoon Halong was headed for southern Japan. Our plans were to meet in Fukuoka on Sunday and go to Sasebo for a few days to do some family research. But with this typhoon, we had to change plans. Now, we're meeting in Kyoto on Saturday and sticking out the weather until Sunday afternoon or so.

This actually has an upside: I've secured a sake brewery tour for us on Sunday, so rain or shine, we'll be drunk and happy. What else could we ask for?

After the weather, the news story turned to a tribute of the Hiroshima bombing. The story was about a Japanese artist who collects other survivors' paintings of their impressions of the bombing. The visuals were very sad. We tried to keep our conversation light, but after a few minutes I think the owner noticed our discomfort and changed the channel to baseball.

That was really very kind of him.

When we got back to town, I dropped of Mom and Dad at the hotel to shower and relax before the fireworks show. My motives were highly ulterior. I raced back and showered then slipped into a dark blue yukata with blue and white chrysanthemums. The yukata part was easy. The obi's a bitch. It took a few tries. Too tight and it made my hips stick out like I'd swallowed a dinner plate. Too loose and the whole thing falls down. After a couple attempts, it was good enough and I was out the door.

It felt good. And not just comfortable good. I mean it felt good to wear a traditional style in public. I'm used to wearing a ryokan yukata around my apartment. But never around town. Some older women wear yukata and casual kimono if there's a graduation or maybe an event later or just because, but it's not an every day thing. It was cool to be a part of this special tradition for a change.

When I finally got to the hotel, Mom was waiting on a low wall across the parking lot. I was a little late, so Dad was off looking for me in the train station access tunnel. I had to call out to get my mother to see me and I will never ever forget her face. It's the face of a parent who picks their kid out of the other faces in the school band onstage.

For the rest of the evening, we walked along the promenade across the river from Tenshochi Park, waiting for the show. Once in a while, we'd run into a small group of my students. On my parents' second night in Kitakami, two of my students were getting ready to play a musical performance outside of a restaurant during the parade. They called to me and after a little talking, I showed them my parents and urged these boys to introduce themselves to my folks with their English. A+'s all around.

These other groups were enthusiastic about seeing their ALT in a yukata and then were blown away by meeting my parents. And they thought I was weird.

We found a good spot against the cement wall to watch the show. The theme was "Happy" so songs like "Happy" and "If You're Happy and You Know It" were played along with some classic bits, oddly enough a Christmas carol and of course...

"Let It Go." Lights under the bridge suddenly flared to life and waterfall sparklers fell into the river in a thick cascade of light. Little boats of water drifted down the river all night, in front of torches on the bank reflected in the water. But the fireworks got all the attention. They really were amazing. I'd look back and watch my parents watching. Dad looked like he was having a good time and every so often, Mom would laugh out loud.

After the show, we got some food and took it back to the hotel where I could untie my obi and relax and we could review the plan for the next day.

Before I could grab a kabob-o-meat, my mother's instincts naturally kicked in and before I could stop her, she was tucking a kerchief around my neck to protect my yukata. Thanks, Mom.

Parent Invasion Part 3: Stay in Town, See a Show, Run Some Errands

On the second day of the Michinoku Geino Matsuri, local groups and clubs perform traditional dances all day all around town. Shishi odori (deer dancing) always occurs in the park near my place. Sansa odori (a Morioka special) is performed in performance halls and on the strees.

Kagura shows perform all day at temples and shrines. And oni kenbai from the freakishly adorable to the ferociously intimidating dance anywhere and everywhere they can.

After our big adventure to Hiraizumi, I wanted to give my folks a little break and keep close to town for the day and run a few errands together. First order of business was getting a little trolley or cart for Dad's suitcase. While they were in Tokyo, one of the rubber tires warped from the heat and made pulling the damned thing nearly impossible. Since it cooled, the tire improved, but Dad still wanted something to make carting the big beastie around a little easier.

We took a trip to one of the malls in town. We first went to a luggage store that was recommended to me, but they didn't have a cart and couldn't repair my dad's bag on site. I thought maybe we could check out the department store downstairs. No luck. And Japanese department stores have everything! Well, not this one. We traipsed through a pharmacy and health care store looking for baby powder...and there they were! Well, they were actually shopping carts for older women with a little metal cart and canvas bag. They rationalized giving the bag to me to use for something and taking the cart themselves.

Mission accomplished!

On the way out, we ran into some very cute pastries and my brother in disguise.

We drove onward. Mom needed some drain strainers for the kitchen sink and Dad wanted some cords for lashing his bag to the cart. Off to Homac, home improvement superstore epicness central! Think WalMart only 8,000 times cooler. My parents were like junior high schoolers at Tokyo Disneyworld. Dad scampered off to hardware and Mom and I wandered kitchen and gardening. She liked the little trowels with smiley faces and Dad contemplated some rickshaw shoes. They both got a kick out of the pets section, but were appalled at the price of a puppy!

After that, it was lunch time...time to introduce Mom to Kappa Zushi! She got a real kick out of the conveyor belt and the special shinkansen for single orders.

The rest of the day, we watched dances around town. They really enjoyed walking around and getting to know Kitakami the way I see it. My regular spots, my regular stores and shortcuts, they really wanted to see how I live.

In the interim between the afternoon dances and the evening parade, we came back to my place for beer and snacks. I made sure to do it right: bowls of dried meat, fish strips, sanbei and nuts and raisins. And beer, of course, in my fancy pants glasses. We snacked and drank for a bit before heading out.

The evening was for mikoshi, the shrines crowds carry on their shoulders in parades, and cultural dancing. The big finale is a +100 oni kenbai extravaganza. We drank more beer and walked along the street until we found a nice cozy spot for them to sit. I buzzed around them and took pictures and talked with some locals. It was a good thing Mom and Dad sat down where they did!

 Last year during a lion kagura dance, the lion puppet was made to breathe on me...long story. There are pictures. My parents had the same exact experience! Japanese people around them were shouting and pointing at them, getting the dancers to come over and give my parents some good luck.

Mom loved all the girls and kids in their yukata. Dad was very interested in the different dances, especially the sansa odori character who waves a stuffed weasel as he dances. Just his style.

As the evening progressed, we wandered further down the street. More shishi were dancing here, more sansa over there...and then down a side street, I found the tigers!

Four dancers wearing two tiger costumes were dancing in the porch lights of a bar, playing with prop bamboo and doing some very interesting heel kicking. As I knelt down to get a better angle, a little boy in a stroller turned and gaped at me, eyes like a Boston terrier. I'm used to the babies here just sort of staring in confusion at me, but this kid, focused on my face. Eyes bugging, he slowly put his tiny little hand on my right arm and with his other hand, pointed at the dancers. His jaw was dropped wide open. He was the picture of amazement.

The last event of the evening was the big oni kenbai. We got spots right behind a group of very professional dancers. I could have reached out and touched one dancer's mask, we were that close.

The dance was just as astounding as it was last year.

Parent Invasion Part 2: The Unsinkable Friday

 My mother has always wanted to see Japan. Her own mother didn't like to talk about her last few years in southern Japan, but she kept many household traditions and practices alive. No shoes inside. Rice. Pots of tea my grandmother would keep full all day every day and drink from constantly. Cleaning on your hands and knees, getting every nook and cranny. She even had a few kimono, records, parasols and fans and demonstrated Japanese dances in public events.

There weren't many international cultural events in Indiana then.

Finally, my mother has the chance to see her own heritage. While I can't speak for her, I can identify. And she came with a 7 year old's Christmas list-long itinerary of what she wants to see a do.

I'm positioned perfectly for my parents to start their trip in Tokyo then take a break from the big city and see life in old Japan. They started the week in Tokyo and Nikko, visiting my dad's work friends and seeing Ueno and Asakusa. By Friday night, they were in Hanamaki, tired and being bowed to.

On Saturday morning, I went to Kitakami Station to meet them. When I saw them sitting on the train as it pulled it, I couldn't keep but bouncing on my toes. There was no containing how excited I was to see them. No holidays in America, no parties, no birthdays, I've missed engagements and births all in just the past year and a half. Finally, they were here. Not on the other side of a computer screen, not on the other side of the planet. Just one platform away.

Right away, I wanted to take them out of town for the day. They wanted to see Hiraizumi and Chusonji. We talked nonstop the whole drive down. When we arrived in Hiraizumi, we were barely in the gates when the skies opened and it poured in buckets on us! We ran back to the museum to wait it out. When it was a little lighter, we saw the entire grounds flooded and streaming out to the streets.

Easily, there were 3 inches on the ground! We watched the storm pass and when it did, we continued around the temple grounds.

For lunch, we went to a soba shop at the base of the Chusonji hills. Dad accidentally ate my Morioka reimen and I got his soba but we have no regrets. They've been studying a little Japanese so we used the wall menu to practice their katakana. They're not half bad!

As we hiked up the hill, the day changed drastically. It got much hotter and muggier and the sky cleared beautifully. All sound is sort of muffled once you're among those trees at Chusonji, so the small crowd was muted in almost a compulsory awed hush.

By the time we got to the car again, it was time to head back so they could check in and relax a little at their hotel before the evening.

I remember the feeling I had the first time I watched a Japanese festival. The dancing and smells and music and costumes overwhelmed me...and I was eager to share that feeling with my parents.

We met at the station and used an underground pass to get to the parade route. My dad was in front of me and I was in front of my mother as we walked up the stairs. Right at the top I turned back and said to her, "Welcome to a Japanese parade!" Her surprised shout was all I needed to hear. The Kitakami Michinoku Geino Matsuri was in full swing.

We wandered up and down the street, taking pictures and grabbing snacks along the way (tuna on a stick and yakisoba for them, ichigo kakigori and condensed milk for me). The parade went on for a couple hours, ending with the first oni kenbai performance of the weekend.

At the end, they went back to their hotel and I went on to do a little bar-hopping with Will and his new friend. We had snacks and drinks at Roots and went back to Honky Tonk for some outrageously expensive beer. Premium malt isn't that good, guy. Sheesh.

Parent Invasion Part 1: Welcome to Iwate, Sorry for the Inconvenience...

Last weekend, my parents came to Kitakami. We've been working out the kinks of their long visit to Japan and every step of the way, I've been working myself into a frenzy of anticipation, excitement and concern for their well-being.

My mother finally caved into the technology black hole that is Apple and got herself not only a nice new phone but a tablet as well! She's pretty proud of both. Thanks to our mighty soul-sucking overlords, we were able to finally text each other with What's App. One of our neighbors uses it to talk to her son who lives overseas, so Mom was pretty excited to give it a shot. After some issues, we finally got it up and working.

Naturally, the first day they were to arrive in Hanamaki, they missed their shinkansen from Nikko. I assured them I'd meet them when they arrived...and didn't hear from them. All night. I was worried that they might have left the phone somewhere or something catastrophic happened. Maybe they decided to chase down the shinkansen they missed and met with a messy end.

I decided that in the morning I would go to the ryokan they were to stay at and see if they'd seen two foreigners. But that morning, my phone started barking (makes me feel like I have something keeping me company here). I answered it and heard some shuffling Japanese on the other end.

Then... "Marta?"

"MOM!" I sat upright, so relieved! Apparently, they got in late to Hanamaki and weren't able to contact me because Mom had somehow recorded my phone number wrong. Anyway, when they arrived at the ryokan, they were greeted by a grim procession of employees in stark, black suits, bowing and looking close to tears. They managed to tell my parents that because of someone getting sick off the ryokan's food, their insurance provider said they had to close the kitchen and they couldn't accept guests that night.

As this was being explained, a tiny little female employee was dragging my parents' luggage off the shuttle bus to the lobby.

In beautiful Japanese courtesy style, an employee told my parents another reservation was made for them nearby and he would drive them.

And so the little female dragged it all back to another car and they all set off down the road. They said the strangest part was how very apologetic the employee was. They offered to just ride the bus back, but he insisted on carrying their bags. He insisted on driving. He insisted on showing them around the ryokan and introducing them to the owner. All the while bowing and apologizing. They were a bit embarrassed, but understood his position and offered him a gift from Maryland as a thank you. It was a shot glass with a crab etched in it.

It turns out, the new ryokan was a favorite of mine, and their rooms were even better than the previous ryokan. That's right. "Rooms." Plural. They had a few tatami to spare!