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.

A happy child and then a day of my very own (with some toilet stuff too).

I know, both seem unthinkable. Not only is it true, but these two days were consecutive! Huzzah! Perhaps the tooth has come all the way through, who knows – but it is amazing how delightful a child can be when they're not screaming, arguing, kicking or hitting, or in today's case, when they are simply not there. I know that sounds terrible, but I think any full time parent will agree that having several hours of 'alone time' is a sacred and beautiful thing from time to time. It means that I will then happily come home and play stickers, wipe bums and cook dinner for said little human.

Actually taken on Sunday night by Kent during a trip to the supermarket. Despite walking past this giant fake burger almost daily, Viv continues to lose his shit over it.  

Again and again.

Me: 'Hey Kent! Can I grab some images off your phone from the last couple of days to put on the blog?'
Kent: 'Sure babe!'
Me: *instantly starts cry-laughing.*
Kent: 'Oh ... '

Yesterday is already a blur in my mind, but I do recall that Vivian was happy for the most part. Weird happy. Random bursts of 'I love you mummy' accompanied by brief cuddles (those who know Viv well will be asking me if he's not himself right about now). Kent officially wrapped up his residency with 3331 Arts Chiyoda so we dealt with that admin before heading out to Kichijoji for a family day.

In just shy of a month, Kent has written over 20 articles, is in the midst of 6 interviews, written countless emails to various institutions, galleries and individuals and clocked well over 25'000 words. 'But how does he do it?' they ask! Let's just say that Kent's intake of sugar has been a match even for this pregnant chocolate hoover machine.

I love this so much. The official poster of Kent being excellent that was displayed at 3331 Arts Chiyoda. 

This is one of Kent's shots near 3331 Arts Chiyoda, a district known as Akihabara, renowned for being 'electronics district' – you might remember Viv and I cowering in a corner here last weekend. It looks much nicer from the safety of my computer screen ... 

There's been a lot of talk lately (for the last 2.75 years) about how 'we' dress Vivian. WE DON'T.  Ok, back-peddle. Obviously we provide clothes for him and I make no secret of my distaste for what I call 'Little Man' clothes (like button down shirts and jeans with zips – my theory is that small people want to run and jump and play and should be in the equivalent of active wear or pyjamas at all times). We encourage colour and pattern if he is interested. I try not to show disappointment if he prefers brown or navy. We are fortunate enough that my mum has killer style and very generously gifts him a lot of his clothes. Each morning we offer up a selection of weather appropriate options, essentially letting him choose and put together the outfit that he likes. So long as he's warm and can move, I couldn't really give a shit what he wears. If he's enthusiastic about what he's wearing, then I'm stoked – because children who are interested in anything are genuinely interesting. Anyway, I digress. I just had huge enjoyment of how much Viv looked like a rainbow paddle pop yesterday that it got me thinking about his amazing wardrobe and how it came about. Sadly, for some reason, I can't find any of the cool stuff for kids I thought I'd be able to find here. There must be a secret code or something ... 

My truck love continues, toddler for scale. They are all so adorable, clean, tiny and simply delightful. This is a ham truck!

While Kent went on ahead to his studio to strip the linen from the bed he never slept in, I took Viv out for a coffee. Ok. I went out for coffee and let Viv come with me. One of our favourites, February cafe, about a 10 minute walk. For the last 2 weeks it's had near constant road works out the front and is terribly noisy. It can be very tricky to get a seat inside as it's tiny, and the one seat outside can be bitterly cold. In exchange for my getting to drink a coffee at a liesurely pace, I agreed to sit outside so Viv could watch the diggers (even though inside was empty). Luckily we were blessed with a very sunny and mild morning! 

During which Viv continuously climbed into my lap saying 'I love you mum!' I didn't even have any cheese with me (this is what normally warrants such behaviour, which I totally respect). 

The main entrance space at 3331 Arts Chiyoda – this is rented out to other organisations and events and the set up has been totally different every time I've been here. Today was a classroom.

While we waited for Kent, Viv generously cooked me a carrot. And then a strawberry. (But I wasn't allowed to eat the strawberry with the fork, I had to use my hands.)

The grand entrance. I think we visited 3331 at a funny time of year, where much of the centre was under renovation or closed for the season. I would be interested in revisiting at a busier time to see what's happening – before we arrived I envisioned spending quite a bit of time here with Viv while Kent worked in his studio, visiting the rooftop garden, cafe, yoga studio ... In reality, Kent's studio was not on site but a decent 20 minute walk/train ride away and the venue itself was not quite as jumping as I had hoped. The cafe wasn't open and the venue didn't have quite as many accessible events as we had thought. My energy levels were a lot lower, and it turns out that it is very unappealing exploring multi-level buildings with either a toddler in a stroller or a toddler on foot or a toddler in any way or form. Viv did enjoy the playroom though, and we had a few good goes at it. 

Am I the only one thinking of bad vasectomy jokes? 

At Kanda station waiting for our train to Kichijoji – an area about 20km west of where we were based, promising good shopping, food and vibes.

The trains are still enamouring the small child.

We're not terribly adventurous travellers. I'm a little abashed to say, many of our explorations begin with me doing vast internet research on the 'best' coffee to be had, and then we build a small map of food/shops/galleries/playgrounds around that very important first stop. Even since we were here 18 months ago (I know, we are totally spoiled shits), the coffee scene in Tokyo (and wider Japan) has exploded with intensity and cool-factor, to the point where it's almost over, if not already. As I've siad before, when Japanese people take something on, they do it properly, with care and consideration. Kichijoji certainly delivered in that department. We walked to the furthest point from the station on our little map to Light up Coffee, where, despite the coffee being weak* and a little lukewarm for our liking, was in a delightful space with delightful staff, and as we suspected, in the centre of a beautiful zone of small shops that weren't on the map/online/recommended. And this is one of the reasons we hunt the coffee in the way that we do.

I really put this picture in because of the hilarious scale of Kent's GIANT HEAD!!! I have no idea what happened there, it doesn't normally look that big ... he has been doing a lot of important work with important people here though, so maybe it has changed ... 

Anyway, the real point is yet another gift for Vivian – in the form of a little glass of juice delivered by the very sweet barista. Always slightly tricky as we don't tend to allow Viv to have sugar (including juice) – however the poor kid has sat in cafes with us for the past month, and has had less babycinos than I can count on one hand in that time, because Tokyo doesn't really do them (or if they do, they cost a million dollars). Luckily for us, so far Viv is incredible when it comes to sharing, and generously sat back while Kent and I drank most of it! At the end of this trip, I will do an archive of the gifts that Vivian has been given by complete strangers. 

Why yes. That is Viv in the background eating his cheese and crackers, and Kent's eager hands waiting for his morning tea from the donut shop next door to Light up Coffee.

See?! SO MERRY TODAY! We found a big open space, the first with 'grass' we've found here – so the boy could RUN, which is possibly the reason we were able to keep him so cheery for so long yesterday. He also asked for the ponytail. Not sure why.

Stunning furniture and homewares shop Svale Furniture – where some small sundries may have made their way into our collection. Their business card reads 'A day on the rainy, sunny, wind or snow, in your happy and sorrow, I am waiting here always.' Sheesh. Viv was gifted a miniature cheeseboard, simply for being 'Kuwaii'. Seriously people. 

Gorgeous shopfront of Hara donuts. I think this is the closest thing to sourdough I've found in Tokyo, so by default: donuts = health food.

All in all, we've fallen for Kichijoji. We discovered some beautiful little second hand shops, a gorgeous furniture shop and some pretty stellar clothes shops. Unfortunately the promise of sunshine and 14 degrees disappeared and was very quickly replaced with harsh wind and the threat of disaster: a certain dickhead who will remain nameless for her own dignity, MAY have dropped her brand new iPhone in a 7/11 toilet. That terrible moment where you know you've dropped something important but it hasn't landed where you know it's going to land ... yet. 

Needless to say, I (I mean, I don't know who) don't think I've ever voluntarily plunged my hand in a public toilet bowl so quickly, wrenched 47 metres of Japanese toilet paper so swiftly and texted Kent so promptly 'GET INSIDE AND BUY BAG OF RICE NOW JUST DROPPED PHONE IN TOILET' – already a good sign that I was able to convey the message. And in retrospect, lucky we were at 7/11 in Japan, where the availability of rice for phone-water-absorption is abundant.

The phone may be a little more tempermental than it was before, the battery a little shabby, and there is the prospect that I have possibly done damage that hasn't entirely seeped in yet – but despite my scarf now being embibed with 7/11 toilet water, I know deep down that I don't deserve my phone to still be working. 

Still accepting calls. 

The rest of the day grew colder and windier, and my preggo body began to give out (after several kilometres of walking already). We decided to can it in and head back to the station before it got too dark and cold, and on our way discovered a little no-name coffee stand – actually, that's a bit unfair. It is called ライブコーヒー吉祥寺店 , which I believe is 'Live Coffee' and despite google maps giving it 2.5 stars, it was fucking awesome – the coffee was hot and delicious and it cost us about the same amount for a latte and a hot cocoa as it has been for a single latte at some of the other snotty places we've been going to. The shop was tiny and basic. It had about 4 pairs of bus-stop style plastic chairs along one wall, and filled with old people, some of which very generously shuffled along their seats so that we could sit together (I must learn to say in Japanese 'Oh thank you, but to be honest I'd prefer to sit with you and not that volcanic toddler.') The hot cocoa was old school and actually just cocoa – idiot me handed Kent my sugar without thinking and then had to send him back for more. 

So many stunning shop fronts.

We head back to the area on Thursday to visit the Studio Ghibli museum, so weather and time depending, perhaps we'll see live coffee again! And someone will no longer be putting any possessions in any back pockets. 

After a long day of walking this is my standard position.

Today was Lucy goes to yoga day, which is a pretty big venture being an hour trip each way. It also means that in my panic to not be late, I am usually about an hour early so then need to kill time before class. Seeing as most shops aren't even open before 12 in this area, this can be tricky. I managed to burn some time trying on clothes in the train station mall and immersing myself in Japanese shopping culture before heading to class. 

Most shops make you wear a headbag (so you don't smear makeup on everything and take your shoes off to try on clothes. I still haven't figured out at what point I'm supposed to take my shoes off – inside or outside the change room?? But I do know no shoes on the rug, which often involves some awkward skirting around the rug in my shoes in order to sit down to take them off ... or bending over awkwardly and taking them off outside the change room, while the shop assistants look on pityingly and the uncoordinated boofhead westerner, who at least has learned not to wear shoes with shoelaces at any venue that might involve this. 

So I then had the pleasure** of finding myself in a completely Japanese language class. Amazingly, despite me understanding about 4% of what beautiful and soft spoken Kazumi said, practising yoga to her dulcet tones of was so incredibly relaxing, I could feel the muscles of my neck begin to release on their own and my shoulders start to slide back to their intended position.

Some sneaky peeking at other students, Kazumi's occasional repetitions in English for me (so kind) and a few key words is what got me through. For the uninitiated, I've put together this handy little dictionary of the essentials to get you through your next Japanese yoga class!

Down-dog = down-a-dogu
Dolphin = dolphinu
Child's pose = child's pose
Core active = core active
Parallel = parallel
Corpse = corpse
Lucy = Lucy
Great/awesome! = subarashi!

I put Lucy in there because that was a key instruction for me to listen out for. Your experience may differ from my own, but I encourage you to get out there and give it your all!

The view from my lunch spot window

Another classic Japanese lunch 'sando' set – sure it was yummy enough, but nothing on Mara's mushroom toastie at hamster.  I think this was actually the first encounter with sourdough I've had here – which, after a month of white bread bordering on confectionary, actually felt a little wrong... 

For the folks at home – I keep meaning to share the toilet culture (yeah I know this is a highly toilet-oriented post). Here is a shot of a pretty standard toilet unit with all the genital/bum cleaning options available (I've found a few with 'wand sanitising' as an option but I'm not 100% sure what that involves. Use your imagination.) I'm yet to consolidate this experience of opening bathroom doors and have toilet lids automatically raise to welcome me, the seat toastie warm when I sit on it, and courtesy classical music gently beginning to play as soon as my ablutions begin. Having said that, there have been a few rude awakenings sitting down on cold toilet seats, or having to search for a flush button. What do you mean you want me to do it myself?! Why am I listening to the sound of my own wee you bastards? Play my courtesy music!! 

Some more classic Japanese use of Roman text. This shop sold luxury gift oils and vinegars... of course... 

While I am seriously loving the daily coffee adventure, tolerating the playgrounds and enjoying some seriously good shopping, I do feel as if my brain is starting to dissolve a little bit and this happy housewife will probably go demented without some other creative input soon. I had on my list to visit Kyu Asakura House in Daikanyama, a traditional house constructed in 1919 now preserved as a museum. Pretty remarkable to have survived through numerous earthquakes and WWII. The house in itself was unremarkable – very standard in terms of it's vintage, and reminded me of the house we stayed in when we visited the island of Naoshima last time we were here (though thankfully without the aroma of cat urine).

What was really special about this experience was not the house itself, but the fact that it exists, here, in the heart of buzzing, frenetic Tokyo. After hours of walking, of sound, of music overlaying music overlaying advertising overlaying loudspeakers, of constant visual and aural assault mingled with my semi-permanent sugar high, this house was a true rest.

There was nothing in it, no furniture, and blessedly, no people. It was boring. It was still. It contained no significant smells and for whatever reason, no one else in Tokyo seemed interested in visiting it today, save the three that sat chatting quietly in the main central room of this two story house, overlooking the garden. It was a sigh of relief.

Shoe locker system. There was something so restful about taking my shoes off in the middle of the city, not to try on some jeans that didn't fit me (fucking pregnancy), but to pad around on tatami mats and soft floorboards.

Most of the house was dark and dingy, but then that would depend on what shutters are open at what time of day.

Little nooks of sliding doors – I probably should have tried to find out what this was for ... but it was nice to simply look and wonder.

I needed tall Kent here for scale – this tiny doorway is about my own modest height.

Cheesy me only wants to sing 'stay away from that TRAP DOOOOR! Coz there's something down there ... da-duh, da-duh!' 

Even in barren, windy, winter, these gardens are still stunning. 

My view from my seat in the sun. 

Meanwhile, on the homefront, Kent and Viv spent most of today at the coveted Orange playground – that's the biggest one near us, and also the busiest. Strutty-pants seems to have gained his confidence though.

A prime example of the dustbowl that Tokyo playgrounds are. Amazing in a city where cleanliness is revered, and everyone is so damn pristine. There is almost nowhere for adults to sit, which leads me to understand that the parents are also supposed to engage in playground activity, something that horrifies me. Is this not supposed to be the down time where I can sit quietly and read or draw (ok fine, play words with friends on my phone and check instagram)?! The smaller playgrounds also quite legitimately double as 'smokers' corners' – as in, the few chairs that are provided are in one corner where usually pretty unsavoury humans converge for their smoko that they presumably don't want to/aren't allowed to have on their own balconies. 

All in all, a full and busy couple of days in Tokyo – we've realised we now have less than a week to squeeze every last drop out of this damn city so are trying to pack in what we can. I will need to put aside at least half a day before we leave to attempt to tetris about 15 kilos of Japan-made ceramic goodness (and cookie cutters) that I have somehow collected on the way, into our suitcases. I packed 5 bags of nappies on the assumption that I would be replacing it with Japanese delights, and so far, I've done an excellent job ... a huge amount of it is extremely breakable, so let's see what makes it home in one piece ...

Tomorrow, a last visit to beautiful Yanaka in old Tokyo, and perhaps a fat nap.

xox
Lj.

*Weak coffee in Japan – it's a thing! Coffees are usually really big and milky, and not too hot and quite weak. Normally this would give me the shits (figuratively, in reality it needs to be a hell of a lot stronger for anything to happen in that department), but seeing as I'm pregnant and technically shouldn't be drinking coffee at all (or according to the pamphlet that my midwife gave me, no more than 3 coffees or 5 teas ... stunned face ... ), the weakness of these coffees has me convinced that I'm allowed TWO a day! Hooray! 

**It was an accident.