Apple Picking, Japanese Style..

.......is actually tea leaf picking.

Without my family (they stayed home and went rollerblading), I went to the Green Tea and Local Products Laboratory at the Saitama Prefectural Agricultural and Forestry Research Center for the “Sayama Tea Picking Experience Festa 2007”. A long train ride through Tokyo and beyond, followed by a 20 minute bus ride, left us by the tea fields in Sayama. Making our way to the research center gave us the opportunity to walk through the fields, passing a few workers along the way. Open spaces – what a difference from Tokyo!

Arriving at the center, we set out to taste some green tea treats and then made our way to the fields where we were given a short lesson in tea leaf picking. The top three leaves are the ones to pick for tea, the lower ones are for making tempura. We were given a plastic bag and 20 minutes to pick as much as we could. As an amateur, I watched as the “pros” picked quickly and expertly. I picked, neither quickly or expertly.

When finished, we went inside to one of the barn like structures, where we learned how to dry the leaves we had just picked. First, put them in a cellophane covered dish into the microwave for a minute and a half, then turn them and return them for another 30 seconds. Take them out, roll them in your hand for 5 minutes, then put them in a pan on the stove under a very low heat and dry the surface of the leaves only. Repeat the hand rolling and heat process 6 times and voila! Tea!!.

After purchasing a big bag of tea for 100 yen (while I like the idea of drying my own tea, I know myself well enough to know it is never going to happen), we made our way to another part of the center to learn how to prepare the perfect cup of tea.

Shedding our shoes for a pair of slippers, we made our way to tables where a nice man explained the best way to make tea. The choice of pot, cups and tea determine the best method. The better the tea, the cooler the water. For us, he poured the water in the cups first, to both heat the cups and cool the water slightly. He then measured one level teaspoon of tea for each cup, slightly more or less depending on to taste, and put it in the pot. Pouring the water from each cup back into the pot, he waited about a minute and then slowly and carefully, poured the brewed tea back into each cup, a little at a time, so each cup had the exact same amount of tea in the exact same strength. The last drops of tea were distributed drop by drop into each cup one at a time, as this is the best, most flavorful part. We sat and drank, savoring the slightly sweet taste in our mouths, each of us resolving to be better tea drinkers in the future.

I was fortunate to be there with some very helpful Japanese women who explained everything as we went along because there was no English spoken. It was wonderful to look around seeing the families out for the day. Almost everyone wore a hat in the hot sun. Almost everyone was smiling. Perhaps it was the tea.......

Flying Cheese

During a lovely afternoon in the Teien Museum park, I finally experienced what I had only heard about - the Tokyo Crows. These ballsy birds think nothing of swooping down and grabbing the food out of your hand, which is one reason you never see Japanese people eating on the street.

We had set out our picnic on one of the tidy white tables arranged carefully on either side of the pebble path. Cheese, fruit, crackers and drinks were being enjoyed, and Lori and I were careful to watch both the girls and the birds that were occasionally making an appearance, flying from one tree to another.

As the girls gradually moved away from the table, so did we, keeping an eye on both. Lulled into a false sense of security by the absence of the flying creatures, we turned our attention to the running ones we were following around as they explored.

All of a sudden, Lori looks up and says "I think that crow took our cheese". We ran back to the table and sure enough, two small wheels of cheese, both only partially eaten, were gone. The sliced cheddar had been dropped from some point above and was lying on it's side on the table. We looked around but couldn't see the offending fowl, but threw everything that wasn't completely covered out immediately, silently cursing these wretched things. Silently, because there were two impressionable little girls standing around just waiting to repeat whatever words came out of our mouths and sounded interesting.


As we stood there, one appeared and swooped down as if to say "you think the cheese was bad, perhaps next time I'll pick up one of these cute little girls. Either one would surely make a tasty snack".


And I do believe they could, as this one's wing span was about the same size as either one of these cute little girls.


Time to go!!!

Tushy.....

otherwise known as bum, tush, bottom, rear, etc. Tushy though, wins out as Ariana's favorite new word and in honor of that, I thought I would show you two very cute examples.

Getting more and more verbal every day, she will now point to hers and say "tushy". Then she points at mine, Baba-sans, Tess's and anyone else who is around and says "Tushy".

Baba-san laughs, in spite of himself, as I know he would rather her be repeating more "appropriate" words like "economics", "totalitarian" or "impeachment". But, you take what you can get and right now, it's "Tushy".

Mother's Day...

After a morning of trying to comfort what was an inconsolable child, I wondered - Why don’t I understand her? She was trying to communicate, saying "geetah" over and over, pointing to the tv and wailing. "geetah" or "deetah"- I know it meant something, I just couldn't remember what. Why didn't I make that lists of words she is saying, so I could look it up and make her feel better? I could tell she was mad. I would be too. Here I am celebrating Mother’s day and I am failing at the most basic “being able to comfort my daughter” task.

However, in my short time as a mother, I have come to learn that with each days successes, there are also the slip-ups. And that’s ok. That is just as much a part of motherhood as the good stuff.

As a young child, I thought my mother had all the answers. As a teenager, I thought my mother had none. Now, I understand. We are not perfect. Each day brings a new challenge and we are all just trying to figure it out. No matter how many books you read, how many opinions you get, how many “Nanny 911s” you watch, you still have to deal with your particular child.

And each child is different. That is the mystery. And they change so fast. Just when you think you have something figured out – a proper response for a certain behavior, a menu they will eat, a schedule that works – it all changes.

That’s the adventure.

Figuring it all out. Tuning into this little person, watching her personality develop, watching for the little expressions of “this is who I am, mom”. And then listening.

Messing up. Every day. Realizing every day that I am not perfect. Every day.

And celebrating that.

P.S. "Deetah" turned out to mean Dora, as in Dora the Explorer. We usually watch it on my computer, but I had made the fatal mistake of connecting it to the television so she could watch it on a large screen. Apparently, this was a major violation of some rule she has.
Or maybe she just had to pee.
Or was hungry.
Or thirsty.
Or tired.
Or just felt like screaming.

Ahhh......the adventure.....................

Bells Ringing

This is the emergency alarm in our kitchen.

On the left is a light that flashes and to the right is the alarm that sounds during an emergency.

Last night it rang.

Loudly.

I was in bed early, having risen at 5:30am and spending most of the day out with Ariana at various playdates. The weather was warm, giving everyone a taste of the hot hot hot humid humid humid Tokyo summer to come. It's the kind of weather which can drain you of any energy you have very quickly. Hence, the early bedtime.

About midnight I am jolted out of sleep by a very loud, very close siren. I jump up turning to Arny to take the lead in what could very well be a real emergency. He, annoyed at being disturbed says "It's just Jed's alarm clock". Of course this is the same person who, during the last earthquake, thought it was just me jostling the bed.

Quickly realizing it was not a little "get out of bed sleepy head" alarm clock, but a serious "get out of the house or die" alarm, we run, holding our ears, to see what was wrong. Jed comes out wondering what is going on. As we are standing there 1) evaluating if there is a real emergency and 2) trying to figure out how to turn the alarm off, the phone rings. Our downstairs neighbor Max is on the line, claiming responsibility for the noise level and attributing it to overcooked fish, which resulted in smoke, which triggered the alarms sounding. Over the noise, we are trying to have a conversation on how to make it stop, but neither of us have any ideas.

Arny of course does.

With a wire cutter, he snips.

There is silence.

In our apartment.

We can hear the continuing alarms in the others. By that time I have hung up with Max and quickly pick up the phone to try to catch him. There is no answer. Arny reluctantly gets dressed to go downstairs and see what is going on. He grabs a flashlight and duct tape and as he waits for the elevator, the doors open and there was a Japanese man in a blue uniform, sent by the building to do his own investigation. Hearing no alarm in our apartment, he apologizes for disturbing us and leaves, only to return shortly with more men, who examine the alarm, shaking their heads as they fix the wiring.

Apparently, the only way the alarm can be shut off is by going downstairs to the office and cutting the wires is a definite Japanese no no.

We now wait from the very polite letter from our caretaker telling us exactly that.

P.S. Ariana slept through the entire thing.

Jet Lag

We are just about over it, having graduated from getting up at 1am to sleeping through the night and rising at about 5:30am. What does not help is the fact that here in Tokyo, there is no daylight savings time, which is great if you want to visit the famous fish market every morning, or jog, or do some other insane morning thing. But, if, like me, you want to sleep, having the sun begin to come up about 4am is not very helpful.

The Girls

As draining as this trip was (it's over now - I'm home) it was wonderful to see my mother and Ariana getting to know each other. Ariana would hold my mother's hand when we went out, providing my mother with the opportunity to claim bragging rights to the cutest granddaughter in the world as they walked through the dining room for dinner each night. They shared crackers and ice cream - two things Ariana seemed to live on this trip.

The last night we were there, the three of us were on the couch and I'm not sure how it started, but my mother began to sing "Rock A Bye Baby". Now, a 95 year old woman singing this song goes something like this:

rock a bye baby, on the tree top

when the bow breaks, the cradle will fall

da dada da da da da da da

and down will come baby cradle and all

But, Ariana didn't know the difference and every time my mother stopped, Ariana would say "more". My mother must have sung the song seven or eight times, with varying lyrics each time. Then they moved on to "little piggy" with my mother grabbing Ariana's toes much to her amusement.

Little games and songs from a different time creating memories in this one. I truly hope for more.