First Steps

Sushi Go Round

Tokyo Jiji

Tokyo Jiji, an old and dear friend of Papa's, who has come to feel like family, hence the name 'Tokyo Jiji' (Tokyo Grandpa), gave Uta this beautiful new Yukata (summertime kimono). Tokyo Jiji has a tiny bar in Tokyo that we visit as much as possible while we are in town. Some day Uta hopes to work there.

Copycat

Thank You Noda Family!

This is a train!

Grumpy

Dead as a meatball

Karate class in Japan is a little different than NY. Class is two hours long, without breaks or games. Karate in NY is forty minutes long, and although the kids work hard, they are not pushed hard. The emphasis is on doing their best and enjoying themselves. Uta went to a class here that took place in the gymnasium where Papa went to school. When it was finished he broke into tears. He could barely walk home and moaned all through the night do to the pain in his legs. It was the hardest thing he has ever done. He said he felt as dead as a meatball. But he made three new friends and wants to go back next week.

What do you want to be when you grow up?

Its still up in the air for Uta, but recently he got to try on a few career hats to see how they fit. There's a place called Kids Kingdom here in Osaka that lets kids see what all different sorts of jobs are like. There are about fifty occupations to choose from. Uta tried working in an ice cream shop, designing cars, being a sushi chef, a fireman, and even spent a little time in jail. He liked being a policeman best of all.

Riding Shotgun

Riding shotgun and chewing gum with Jiji. Just another reason to love Japan.

Pool side

On a hot summer day in Tokyo, a water park is a great place to be. Uta and his good friend Kiichi enjoyed the wave pool, and lazy circling river. They ate ramen, of course, and ice cream filled crepes.

Noodles

Uta has eaten noodles everyday we have been in Japan, sometimes he's even eaten them twice a day. Me too. I am nearing the point of noodle over load. Ramen, udon, somen, soba, and even spaghetti. Pictured above is a somen shop where the noodles come shooting down metal slides into your bowl. Uta liked trying to catch his noodles midstream. He ate a lot that day.

Pizza

Right now Uta is so in love with Japan he can see no faults. He scolds me daily for not being Japanese, and says I should try harder to learn the language. He wants to stay for six more months, certain that that is all it will take for him to be fluent. He wants more than anything to talk to his Pop in his native tongue. I understand his desire. To see Papa H in his home country, laughing and speaking Japanese, makes us feel we may be missing out on the best part of who he is. Language is so much more than words. And maybe Papa's heart, the whole of it, simply cant be translated into english. Uta's efforts are admirable and his Japanese improves in leaps and bounds every day. He is determined and brave and I too think it would be unjust not to give him the opportunity to really learn to speak. But not everything is better in Japan. And even Uta would agree. The pizza is down right awful.

On the road

Driving to Tokyo and back again to Osaka was quite a feat. Two grandparents plus two children equals stopping a lot. We managed to land ourselves in so many traffic jams that our time spent in the car was as long, if not longer, than our flight from New York to Japan. But driving is much more fun. Truck stops in Japan have Curry udon soup and cool mist machines in the guise of polar bears. 

Bug country

In Japan the insects are bigger and meaner and seem to out number the people. Uta is covered, head to toe, in mosquito bites. The bites are not just benign swellings, that itch for a spell and then disappear, like in New York. These bites grow as big as golf balls beneath the skin and torture their victim for days. Uta got a bite on his brow that swelled so it nearly sealed his eye shut. It is a war we a losing at the moment. Like Uta says, he is ripe, like a juicy peach. The bugs just can't resist him.

Field Trip

To honor Jiji's 70th birthday, and the rare occasion that we are all together, the family rented a van that seated ten, filled every seat, with two additional babies on laps, and went to check out a nearby limestone cave. 

Fuji-san

In the six times that I have been to Japan I have only seen Mt. Fuji once, and that was from the air, flying in to Tokyo. That spotting was only by chance, when I happened to lift the window shade for a bit of light. I was alone with Uta, who slept  through the sighting, despite my over excited prodding him and picture snapping. 

There is something so magical about Mt. Fuji, like a dragon, as large as the sky,  just touching down to earth for a moment's nap. The quiet stillness emanating is eerie and powerful.

The times we've attempted to see Fuji-san intentionally all ended in disappointment, do to cloudy, overcast conditions. But this great mountain's aversion to being seen only makes the seeing of her that much more spectacular. This time around, on our drive to Tokyo, we were lucky enough to have clear skies, and Fuji-san appeared, standing unabashedly before us like a great prehistoric queen.

Cousins

On  Papa's side, Uta is the first of four grandchildren. He is the oldest, and a little uncertain of what this role means to him. He likes to talk about how he will always be the oldest, in three years, or seven, or even one hundred years. He does the math to prove his point. In seven years Uta will be fourteen, Yoshi will be eleven, Ayana will be eight, and Kizuki will be seven. Sometimes being the oldest means  giving up a toy that is rightfully yours, pretending to lose a game, taking your turn last, and setting a good example at the table. Uta is great about it most of the time. He dutifully finishes his dinner so that the others will follow suit, corals the little kids into safer areas to play, and performs funny antics to make everyone laugh. But after a few day of this, his patience dries up and he has to find an opportunity to have a good cry, punch his dad in the back, or throw a tantrum over something inane, like putting on socks. After that, he is refreshed, and ready to once again embrace his place in the family. Being responsible is hard work.  

Mata Ne NYC!

Goodbye NY, and all those we love. We are on our way to Japan. Five weeks of good food, family, and friends. We'll send you stories along the way. Matta ne. (See you later.)

Kizuki the goat

Fish food, grass, steel wool, bobby pins, big brothers, plastic bottles, scraps of paper...you name it, if Kizuki has encountered it, she has tried to eat it. She likes food too. But you can't turn your back on this baby for a second, she is determined to taste the world.

Kiki the Giant

Kizuki is in the 98th percentile (of babies her age) for height, 85th for weight, and 45th for head size. She is a nicely proportioned giant, according to her doctor. I already knew she was a giant from the twangs and zingers of pain that have been growing in my shoulders. Lets hope she learns to walk soon!

Whose who?

Luckily they have seven years between them, otherwise we might have a hard time telling whose who! Kiki top. Uta bottom.

World Cup Fever

The World Cup has inspired some pickup games in the park amongst soccer loving Dads and their kids. Uta knows next to nothing about the game, but he was happy and proud to play along with Papa. He chased after the ball, following the herd, and did his best to kick the ball in the general vicinity of the goal, any goal, regardless of whose team would benefit from his efforts. For a long time he was the goalie, which I would guess would be too much pressure for the boy. But he liked it just fine. All that time waiting for the action to come his way gave him extra opportunity to tweak his outfit. He may not know the difference between a free kick and a penalty shot, but he is crystal clear on the proper way to wear his socks in true soccer style.