GALFROMDOWNUNDER UPOVER

Am I nuts? A friend is coming over to the USA and I am getting him to bring me this: a Maneki Neko cat . If you follow that link, you will learn that this beckoning/waving/money/good luck cat is a popular fixture in businesses in Asia. A raised left paw is meant to bring customers; a raised right paw brings money and wealth. This little guy has both paws raised, albeit with eyes firmly closed as if to say "Bring it on!" I didn't have this background when I spotted it in a store near Gotokuji station where I stayed in Tokyo. I thought it was cute, but not worth spending $10 on to clutter up my no-room-for-clutter life. But then, I land in the USA, and I'm pining for this little cat. Ever done that? Wish you'd bought something and then gone to the trouble and expense of getting it later? It has a double significance for me, as Wikipedia speaks of its legendary origins where I stayed in Setagaya-Ku, one of Tokyo's west wards: The Temple Cat: This stor

Last post I wrote something "a society with a fascination with the minutiae of life is one you will never cease discovering." This is one example of minutiae. I found this miniaturized "curry rice meal" at Kid Robot in Soho, NY, day after getting back from my 3 week Japan trip. Oh how I wish I'd made it to geek central, Akihibara , where you can find wierd stuff like this and more. That's a definite for next time. It struck a chord because I learned curry rice is a staple of Japanese urban families - basically a just-add-water flavor cube of riotously tasty curry paste, that you team with veges, meat and rice in no time flat. I ate this at Richard and Haruyo's house in Nagoya. And on the United flight coming over. The little red pot has a real wooden knob. The lid fits perfectly and has a certain weight to it despite this whole thing being about an inch diameter. The ladle 'scoops' the curry nicely. You can remove the ladle from the sco

UPDATE: Yoga really works!  Some exercises to fix your back Right: What I need right now ... the Yamaha-owned onsen Tsumagoi (means "Love your Wife") in Kakegawa. Those are my green-tea-soaked tootsies about 2 weeks ago ... ... AND I don't mean pickpockets, hijackers, or even Bangkok tailor-made shirt touts (the best in the world - the touts, not the shirts, which fall apart after 2 washes). I mean: look after your back when dragging suitcases, sleeping in hostels, stepping off strange and uneven curbs (kerbs downunder), and yes, biking around like I've been doing for 5 weeks. After 2 weeks customer evangelizing in Singapore and another 3 in Japan , I'm reporting to you flat on my back, after putting it out on my last day in Tokyo. I was simply folding a blanket and when POW! A sharp, throbbing pain above my left hip. Somehow, I managed to get back to NYC - bracing myself and dragging two bags and a small backpack through Tokyo's train and airport

After 3 amazing weeks of work and play in this country, it's time to leave. There's just too much more to see. A society with a fascination with the minutiae of life is one you will never cease discovering. Like the charred log that plays ambient sounds that I only read about in my guidebook, but didn't quite make it to that area - Akhihabira, electronic geek central. I got together with some BF Club of Japan folks for a Hokkaido-style meal just before I left. It was also the occasion to hand over my Princess Pink tikit to the new owner, Ray-san - a great deal for her considering the strong state of the yen against the tanking dollar. Adam Clark rode his Pocket Rocket all the way from Yokohama (1 hour) and Taniguchi-san and his wife KimLee trained it 1 hour from Seitama, north of Tokyo. The meal, at a local Gotojuki station restaurant called Raku, was a delicious and curious combination of potatoes, fish and salad - like Tokyo meets Idaho - Hokkaidaho? Taniguchi-san (belo

Today - the last day of my 7 day rail pass. I'm 500+ miles from Tokyo but the Shinkansen will get me back Tokyo in just over 3 hours. Figure the math! I keft Fukuoka stopping by Hiroshima to retrieve my wallet, as explained in the previous post. Because I had just a few yen I could not buy the many Kyushu treats I fell in love with overnight. Like the handmade ramen to go, and a wonderful sweet called Caramel Manchu by these folks. Akaifusen . When I go anywere in Japan asking for it, including in Tokyo, they say 'only in Kyushu'. Drat! But there's something nice about exclusive regional foods. You can zip around on the Shinkansen knowing that gifts you bring will be doubly appreciated. Then onto to Himeji, home of Japan's most visited castle, Himeji-jo . I did not have time to tour this monolithic wedding-cake, but there is something about simply riding your bike past such a famous spot and rubbernecking like everyone else. For my architect friend I mad

Myajima - one of the most Kodak'd moments in Japan.  The incredible Good Samaritan Asako  I know when it's time to wind down a trip. I start making mistakes.  Today I left my wallet beside one of the computers at the hostel in Hiroshima. I was so pleased with myself at a) wringing the last possible bit of mileage out of my 7-day railpass by jumping on a train to Kyushu, Japan's most western province and home of the Ramen Stadium, b) arriving at the Khaosan Hostel by the rather early check in deadline of 8.30am, and c) availing myself to a bowl of the famous Fukuoka ramen.   Then I discovered my goof - just as I was trying to buy some local looking goodies at Hakarta Station, aka Fukuoka, the farthest point you can reach by Shinkansen on the JR Rail Pass. My wallet was sitting back in Hiroshima, beside a computer in the hostel internet cafe. I hoped.  But I've learned that when the s**** hits the fan, you take things one step at a time:  I got to the hostel in Fuluoka. E

Obamajority - that's what the mayor of Hiroshima wrote of his denizens in a peace letter addressed to all nations that still insist on stockpiling nuclear weapons.　I souvenired several copies of this letter, stamped with an official Hiroshima Peace Museum logo, to gift to my most vocal peace and Obama-lovin' friends. Obama is yet to visit the Hiroshima Peace Park, according to A-bomb survivors and witnesses like Mito Kosei. Affected by radiation when still in his mother's womb, he outgrew a sickly childhood and now roams the park as a volunteer guide, offering free and informative backstory to the official materals displayed in the museum. "[Aussie Prime Minister] Rudd was the only PM to visit the Peace Park BEFORE he was elected to office, Obama has not," he said. "I think it not easy for him. 60% of Americans still believe dropping the bomb was a good thing. That makes it harder for Obama to visit." He showed me a picture of the museum's models of

More Nagoya shots I've just gotten back after some bad bachelorette behavior, that is, hunting down and scarfing a 10pm okonomiyaki. This is a specialty 'pancake' of Hiroshima fried in front of you on a big flat griddle.　In fact, there's an entire 6th floor of a garish neon-lit building called GAIA PACHINKO right opposite the station, dedicated to this glorified Japanese bubble'n'squeak (google that term if you aren't from the British Commonwealth). The okonomiyaki stall I chose at random was called 'HOPE'. Because the place is frequented by tourists, the young owner said he thought an English sounding word would float them to the top of the passing selection panel. He asked if Australians ate koala sashimi. I suggested that since all the stands were offering practically the same thing for the same price, he could try advertising kangaroo to distinguish himself in a less obtuse fashion. But what would I know? They do a roaring trade at lunchtime

Despite big plans to maximize my spendy 7 day Japan rail pass and hop all over the country, the allure of Kyoto was too great. I opted for the hostel-recommended walking instead. First, breakfast. Feeling sure I could better the hostel 680 yen offering, I traipsed around the block looking for a Japanese breakfast. It does not exist except in the form of extremely expensive coffee and some basic white toast. I returned to the hostel and sheepishly took my place among the other gai-jins scarfing the unlimited eggs, sausage, toast, jelly, coffee tea, salad , cheese, cereal, yoghurt... no wonder Ks Hostel won an award. What was meant to be a half day tour ended up a day and night half of a tour, because I was held hostage by soaring temples and shops selling all kinds of Japanese souvenirs. The mochi shops were making a killing. People love to crunch and chew things and mochi satisfies the latter - it's like a stressball for your jawbone. I ate more than was decent of the free

Well, not yet, but soon. My 6 dorm-mates at K's Hostel are sound asleep and I don't want to rummage in my stuff for the third time to get out my SD card reader. Today started out in a most inauspicious fashion. I left the Bickel's idyllic semi rural retreat in Kakegawa and caught the bus across the road to the train station - 20 mins away. I got off at what I thought was the station, but it turned out to be the hospital - two stops too soon. note to self: when you arrive in the dark, things may look different in the cold light of day. Now, this is when I started to realize that Japan is hopelessly difficult when you don't speak the language. The only words I seem to remember reliably are "takai" = expensive, and "yasui" = cheap. I spent a good 20 mins gesticulating with locals, poring through my Lonely Planet Japanese Phrasebook that devotes whole chapters to pick up lines and getting drunk. Eventually they "got" that I needed to get to th

Shizuoka Prefecture is renowned for green tea, grown in topiary-neat rows like this. Today was a perfect sightseeing day on a Friday. I took the Shinkansen bullet train from somewhere near Tokyo ($US50!) where, despite speeds of 207 km/h passengers still find time to fall asleep - I think it's the hi-carb rice crackers. I landed at Tom and Sumiyo Bickel's rustic house in Kakegawa, midway between Tokyo and Kyoto. They run a language school called Oregon House of Kakegawa (in Japanese, contact them at oregonhouse@amail.plala.or.jp) named after Kakegawa's sister city Eugene, Oregon where they spent 10 years as stewards of the city's cultural exchange farm. Last night they hosted a very Eugene-style potluck dinner with a number of their friends and students so they could "meet the Chinese-Australian on the folding bicycle." Pot Luck in Japanese translates more or less to "mochiyori" or "bring something over". It's not a custom, but it led