Last week of Boken-ing!

It has just hit us that we have less than a week left and only 3 suitcases in which to pack the 47 or so ceramic pieces we have somehow managed to acquire in the last month. Kent finally had a chance to go shopping now, and I'm beginning to get nervous about our luggage – my game plan is to buy a gigantic canvas shoulder bag in the guise of being our carry on 'nappy bag' and filling it with crunky and choco-flakes. WE MUST BRING ALL OF JAPAN HOME! 

The term 'Boken' has become standard vocabulary in our little trio, the Japanese word for adventure. Yesterday we took our last trip to Yanaka (because of bacon sandwiches, the coffee house and the bakery). Next time we visit, I want to stay in this area – it ticks all the boxes of old Tokyo, while still providing me access to the pretentious things I love (coffee, expensive socks, custard buns ... etc). 

We've tried to take a few scenery snaps to dilute all the pictures of lattes and sandwiches. I have had more white bread sandwiches in this trip to Japan than I've had in my entire life. I have no idea what's come over me (preggo hormones and a permanently hungry toddler I think). The indulgence of these sandwiches isn't lost on me either: fluffy white bread bordering on confectionary with the crusts cut off takes me straight to high teas in fancy hotel (I'm not sure I've even ever done one of those, but they sound fancy). 

I digress. Yesterday we were blessed with beautiful blue skies and the chance to explore a corner of Yanaka that we previously hadn't – not before the coffee though. 

Funny little pink cafe on the way into Yanaka. 

And it's neighbour across the road. It's one thing that the Japanese do not shy away from, it's colour. There is something so refreshing about seeing factory-esque buildings, macho concrete mixers and utility trucks painted in vibrant turquoise, bubblegum pinks and bright oranges. I am still yet to capture a Tokyo cab – they are incredible works of art in their own right, but rarely still. 

Lovely sunshine love in Kayaba coffee. I don't want to admit it, but after all this time on the floor of our apartment and tatami mats in other venues – sitting on a bloody chair has never been so sweet. 

Stunning morning light – it was about 9.30 and the cafe was deserted, classic Tokyo style. No one really is around until after 10, and even then things don't get busy till 12.

Obligatory.

Hi mum – I know I'm rubbing it in now and I'm #sorrynotsorry. One of those moments where I had literally had breakfast only an hour or so before, but knew this was going to be my last chance before coming home, so ordered it anyway. Miraculously, I managed to eat the whole damn thing. Friends and family who dine with me in the future: expect salad and soup with everything from now on. 

So daggy. Kent loves the brown. And all interiors that have any reflection of the 70s. I love it here, but the thought of translating it back home makes me queasy.

It's not all coffee and sandwiches (but mostly). Yanaka is home to so many historical sites: tombs, temples and cemeteries (actually I just realised that we totally forgot to visit the gargantuan cemetery!! What is wrong with me?!). This tomb was beautiful, though we weren't sure if we were technically allowed to be in there so didn't linger. 

Stunning temples are around every corner. Apparently the statues that wear the little red bibs are to acknowledge babies who have died – right through the heart of this hormone bomb.

It's hard to believe we are in the heart of Tokyo – it is so so damn quiet here. (It's actually remarkably quiet everywhere, except some of those main streets in the CBD). Perhaps it was the season and time of day, but the streets were delightfully deserted and  everything is gloriously overgrown, run down, but clearly loved. 

I can't help but wonder about insulation ... 

I keep meaning to get a good snap of the local 'Koban' when no one is looking. The Koban is the local police station that is really just a booth. Every district/suburb we've been to, these booths seem defiantly shack-like and are more dilapidated than Melbourne's skankiest toilet block. All you need to do is look for the smallest, shittiest building on any given corner and you've probably found it. They are also mascotted by this amazing cartoon space-mouse-alien thing, who is simply delighted that you've found it. I will endeavour to get a good shot before we go. 

Yanaka is home to delightful alleys and passageways, that thanks to google maps, usually lead somewhere. A classic Japan-cutsie sign on the main road brought us to this (to be honest, fairly ordinary) bakery, but the setup was so delightful that we managed to collect some more breadie treats to add to our already bulging bag from Kayaba bakery. 

A spontaneous coffee stop (because as you know, most of them are planned, well in advance) turned into a classic Lucy-Kent smackdown competition, this time with origami. Does this count as yet another fricken present for Viv? The old lady running the show brought out some origami sheets for us and told us to get to work. I made two amazing boxes, but am sad to say that Kent trumped me with his fish; though it didn't really resemble the example, it still looked like a fish. Mine looked like no such thing, much to Viv's disappointment. He can talk – he's clearly crap at origami, look at that fold.

Terrible photo I know, but I needed to share with the world (the parents and two friends not on social media who read this blog) that this shop devoted to japanese SPONGES exists! I didn't go inside (because though I technically do need sponges, I just wasn't in a spongy mood), but I was so impressed with how even sponges can be merchandised well. I mean – most of these sponges are available to buy in Kappabashi street where we are staying ... but somehow, these sponges are sexier.
Oh my god. I need to get out of the stay-at-home mum game. 

I sincerely wish this shot conveyed how lopsided and falling down this house really is. 

Just werking my new amazing Japanese pyjama pants. I couldn't button up the designer jeans I tried on the day before (I think the shopkeeper was horrified I even wanted to try them on, saying in a gentle panic 'Uh, two sizes! Ah, a-zero, and ah-one.' Cocky me: 'I think a one will be fine.' Him: *looks nervous.*), but how wonderful that I can still wear an elastic waist. The mu-mu is not far off though. 

Another beautiful shrine – In case you can't quite see, that's several strings of many origami paper cranes hanging there.

This is the back of someone's (several someone's) home. Kent nearly wet himself laughing watching me leap back into the street as that door opened a moment after this shot was taken. 

I could probably photograph these street scenes my whole life – talk about garden goals. This time I'm ready to commit when I come home. I even bought a tiny broom! Yes! Me! 

Coordinated.

I hit a very large wall by lunchtime (who knew that so much white bread could slow a girl down?!) so it was decided that I would take Viv back to Kappabashi for a proper playground run (we'd missed our opportunity for a day sleep and the thought of taking him deeper into the city for shopping made my head hurt), and Kent went off to hit some of the impossible-with-a-stroller-let-alone-a-stroller-with-THAT-in–it stores.

Ok, I know she looks sulky, but you wouldn't believe how smug I was when this little mate remembered Viv from sharing the slide with him last week. I supposed in an area where every other child is Japanese, he does stand out. She actually initiated all the hugging, and it was with huge relief that our usually non-hugger Viv was smitten.

Things got progressively weirder, Viv got progressively dirtier, and once one of those teenage boys started vomiting up what I can only presume is Japan's version of a bacardi breezer, I decided to take Viv home.

Quite literally watching Bridge cafe over the road – when the roller door goes up, it means we can put our shoes on and go downstairs. Usually by the time we get across the road, it is 10am and they are officially open. I love these guys, but I also miss my cafes opening at 8am (at the latest). I can't quite bring myself to do a daily babycino here, mainly because they love Vivian so much that they froth him an entire takeaway cup of milk and I don't want to pay for it. However, as filter and black coffee are even more important than espresso in Japan, most cafes have a little doctoring station where you can add your sugar, syrup, water and cold milk. So Kent and I have sneakily been snagging a free splash of cold milk and calling it a special chilled babycino – and Viv is none the wiser. 

Today was incredibly different from our other days. For one, it has been booked for weeks – our long-awaited visit to the Studio Ghibli Museum. I have been keen to visit this place since I learned of its existence about 10 years ago, but it's not as easy as rocking up and paying the entrance fee. Tickets must be booked well in advance, usually before your trip, and are often sold out months before. If you are bold enough, or can speak/read Japanese, you can purchase tickets at Lawson convenience stores in Tokyo – usually with a little less notice. Kent and I attempted this in our first week, and got through about 5 screens of Japanese before conceding defeat. Luckily for us, one of Kent's very kindly colleagues who is originally from Japan (and who was highly instrumental in connecting Kent to this residency), was visiting Tokyo at the time and helped Kent buy us tickets.

Today was also different because it was forcast to be 5 degrees instead of our now expected 9-12, with a forecast of snow in the morning, and rain for the rest of the day. However, it almost made it easier in a way, because we knew we just had to rug up and go. I am so grateful for my patient and cheerful husband today – I could have turned today into a big fat disaster, but thanks to his laidback attitude and willingness to go with the flow, it was impossible not to simply enjoy the ride.

As we were booked in for a 12pm entry (so fricken organised), we decided to have lunch at the cafe first before exploring. By the time we got there, I was starving, so was Viv. The cafe was full and we were escorted into a seated line of about 20 people and a 40 minute wait. Normally I would be flipping out, but there was no other option, I'd eaten most of Vivian's morning tea biscuits and had we left to go for lunch, we wouldn't have been able to come back in. I was also not willing to wander the museum on an empty stomach.

Despite the wait, it was a fascinating cultural experience. We were given menus while we waited, and by the time we had arrived at the front of the queue, our 'reservation' had already been made, and our host came to take our order while she advised that our table would be ready in 5 minutes. I somehow managed to stand up and leave the drawstring of my tracksuit pants behind (all the while thinking 'my pants feel strangely like someone is trying to take them off...), perhaps as a premonition of the destruction to come.

So as we know, much culinary experience in Asia comes sans-knives, but also many meat products arrive in larger than bite-sized portion. So naturally I needed to cut up the pork cutlet with a spoon in order to share it with my son, and naturally it took me all of about 16 seconds to send most of my incredibly baby-poo resembling curry down the front of my jumper, shirt, pants and backpack. And floor. Either no one noticed, or the staff were so embarrassed for me that no one came to our aid. Instead, they quietly removed my plate of baby wipes resembling the result of a poo-nami at the end of the meal without so much as a titter and I spent the rest of the day wandering around with the aroma of curry seeped into my very being. You'd think that I would have stripped off and soaked the shit out of those clothes the second I got home, or even thrown them away. But no. It's 9.30pm, and here I sit. In my curry costume.

We have few photos, as in the words of our sponsors 'you are the main characters in your own story, so we ask you to view it through your own eyes, rather than the camera lens'. (For the uninitiated, Studio Ghibli is (probably) Japan's most well known animation studio, and responsible for globally known films such as Howl's Moving Castle and Spirited Away, plus so many more wonders.) You are however allowed to photograph the outside of the building.

 I suspect that had I come solo here after so many years of longing to visit, I would have been disappointed. It was scary busy (the line for the shop was so terrifying, that I panic-purchased a fluffy something something for Viv and got the hell out of there as soon as I could), and really, created for children. It was upon realising this, how grateful I was that I wasn't allowed to take photos.

An image I stole off the internet of the 'catbus'. There was another version of the catbus for adults on another level, in the form of very fluffy room where in true Japan-style, a few were taking a kip.

Most definitely a highlight, the catbus is the most orderly chaotic fun I've ever witnessed. Tiny children line up and wait behind the rope with their shoes in hand. The gentle attendant explains with pictures, fun expressions and lots of Japanese words, the rules of the cat bus (no throwing of the fluffy soot balls, you can climb everywhere, but be careful etc). The parents are not allowed in and do not participate, but watch from outside. The rope is released and a small group of kids is let through to go apeshit on this thing, which is so clearly the result of about 14 too many hash cookies, I don't know why no one else is talking about it. Our gorgeous little wary boy spent most of his session watching the other kids leap off the roof of the bus from the safety of one of the feet (is that a foot? How many fucking feet does this cat have?!). As predicted, the moment Viv bravely sticks his head through a window, it's time to go and let some more kids have a turn. Naturally, he's devastated. A kindly attendant (there are at least 3), sees his sorrow and explains to him (in Japanese) that he is allowed to sneak around back into the line for another turn – presumably because there are only two other children waiting.

What a delight to see our son enjoy this experience, and I admit, in real life, not through my iPhone. As his confidence grew, we watched him slither in and out of those windows like a fuzzy little be-jumpered slug, whooping 'I'm upsidedown! Look!', moments later, his perky little head bursting out another side. I was amazed at the staff who were eyes everywhere, never interfering, but always being available to catch a child, to give them a leg up, to prevent a foot going into someone's eye – also while completely and delightfully ignoring the parents watching from a distance. It was a wonderful rest. I am sorry to all of them for my cranky son who was so furious with them for ending his (second) session. 

The rest of the museum was bits and pieces of interesting architecture, film references and a few seizure machines of strobe-tastic terror. I realised pretty quickly that aside from playgrounds, this was the first time that it was Viv's show and we were tagging along, rather than the other way around. Kudos to Kent for accompanying a desperate Viv up the 3 flights of miniature (probably just regular Japanese sized) caged spiral staircase of claustrophobic horror. Not to mention tiny bridges across several floors and miniature doorways that I had trouble ducking under. I'm sure we missed many areas, but with the weather being so bad, there was not much relief outside (it was rain-snowing ... or snow-raining ... probably just sleeting), and we felt like we'd got our Boken's worth. 

The child who despises getting his hair wet completely basking in the sleet. Though out of the 3 of us, who had the only waterproof clothing on?

I've put a filter on this to prove ACTUAL SNOW! Very wet, soggy and cold snow. I now realise that I think we forgot to go into this building at all ... whether we could or not I'll never know... 

The more tired Viv gets, the more demented and unpredictable his physical movements.

Aaaaand we've lost him. 

Our forecast for the rest of our stay. Ye ghads. I better get my trackies washed and dried quicksmart because methinks double layers are back on the table. At least we are promised sun for a little while.

Another exciting day of adventure and no-naps resulted in some terrible tantrums and horrible behaviour from our favourite mini. We've conceded to stay close to home in the morning in the form of playgrounds until the earliest nap we can get away with – then, we venture back to the city for a last look at the snazzy boutiques before a weekend of art in Kiyosumi and one last Boken for my birthday on Sunday. Monday will be the day of tetrising our luggage before we fly home on Tuesday night!

I'm starting to get excited about eating berries again, being able to do my laundry in one big go (instead of washing 11 socks and a teeshirt every two days), expensive coffees costing $4, and my own bed, in a bedroom instead of a 'kitchen' that is mostly a gigantic rubbish-bin doubling as a table. 

All in all, it's an exciting time.

xx

Lj.