New Template!

Blogspot is offering new templates for blogs, so I went ahead and updated my Travel Angie and my California Dreaming sites...what do you think? I think they're purty.

Belated Texas Post

While our trip to Austin occurred over a month ago, I feel as though I would be remiss if I overlooked the event entirely on my travel blog. We're not doing serious travel at this moment in our lives, but when we do some minor travel, why not blog about it?

I had not seen my Texas cousins since Monique's wedding in 2007. They have historically made the trip out to Cali once a year but between Kane and I leaving for Oz in late 2007 and the two Texan ladies each popping out a baby boy in the interim, it was quickly approaching the time where three years would have passed since our last reunion.

This is not ok. Some people are cursed with family they don't like, and that's something they have to live with. I, on the other hand, love my family. I am related to some really fabulous people and am pretty dang happy about it. Adele and Monique (et al) are two such family members. We, therefore, made all efforts to find a date where the stars aligned and our crew could hang with their crews.

So for one fine day at the end of May, Mom, Jenny, Kane and I flew with Miss Taylor-face over to Austin to meet Adele, JJ, Isaac, Monique, John M., Henry, John and Denise. Yes, it actually happened.

While the trip was short and our time to spend with everyone was even shorter, it was worth the trip. We swam with the kiddies in Barton Springs had a picnic lunch, enjoyed some fine Mexican food, swam the following day with Henry at Big Stacey pool, and had a lot of fun chill out time at Monique's and John's house.

The baby (Taylor) wasn't an angel on the airplane, but it's hard to blame her; flying isn't exactly fun. The trip was a bit hectic, the weather was hot and humid, and the baby managed to exhaust the four of us with ease. But it was great to meet some other babies we're related to, catch up with far-away family, and enjoy some fabulous food (out of the house and in--John M.'s a fabulous cook). Thanks so much for having us, Texans, we had a great time!!!

Have a look at all of my best pics on my Texas 2010 Picasa album!

Play Money

That's sort of what Japanese money looks like--play money. I guess that's what all foreign currency looks like compared to our greenbacks; why don't we use more color in our money like everyone else? Who knows; I digress.

We spent three weeks in Japan spending play money all over the place. Here, I can finally show you the coveted pie chart that documented the entirety of our spendings. Ta-da:


This was the first (documented) trip where we ever broke the budget. We've gotten rather good at estimating travel costs and knowing the cost of our travel style. We made two main errors in calculating our estimated costs for this trip:

1. I accidentally forgot to multiply the cost of our hotel by the number of night we were staying. Our original estimate hence only included like 5 nights of hotel. Oops.
2. We drastically underestimated the cost of transportation around the cities.

These weren't really huge tragedies, but it did leave us about 18% over budget (after adjusting for the hotel pricing blunder). Most of that error was due to severely underestimating the quantity--and hence the cost--of subways, taxis, and train tickets during our travels.

Here is the breakdown of estimated versus actual costs (in US dollars for both of us together), with the percent over (or under) budget:

• Accommodation: Prediction $1807, Actual Cost $1614, 89%
• Transportation: Prediction $267, Actual Cost $1118, 418%
• Food: Prediction $900, Actual Cost $1272, 141%
  
• Activity: Prediction $720, Actual Cost $501, 70%
• Stuff: Prediction $90, Actual Cost $147, 163%
• Other: Prediction $180, Actual Cost $25, 14%
• Flight: Cost $1524 (no prediction)
• Insurance: Cost $43 (no prediction)
  

So, as you can see, transportation was what killed us. We just didn't realize how many $1 trips we were going to need to take every day, and that they would rack up to quite a bill. Accommodation was under $100/night on average, so we were happy with that, and we apparently used "Food" as an "Activity" since the surplus of the first fits nicely into the latter. Which is fine with me; food was a main part of the trip for me and I'm happy to fork out* the bucks for their delicious foods.

"Stuff" is anything we buy like gifts for others or souvenirs for ourselves. I think I pretty took over this category (surprise) and spent $70 of that on all my bowls. The "Other" category is for laundry expenses, ATM fees, and renting a locker at the train station. This ended up being minuscule on this trip, which I won't complain about.

The cost ended up being just over $150/day for each of us ($312 for both of us), compared to the $140/day each we had estimated. And we weren't doing the super-thrifty hostel route this time; we were almost traveling like normal people. I think it worked out well for being our most costly trip (per day) to date.

Overall, I pretty much don't care how much it cost because this trip was one of the best ever. It was totally worth it in order to spend time with two of our best friends enjoying a truly awesome culture and probably my favorite type of food for three weeks. Plus, we technically spent our Australian dollars on this trip, which was left over from working there (oh so long ago), so it really is like spending play money anyway. Yeay for Japan!

*I suppose "chop stick out" doesn't exactly fulfill the needs of this phrase quite the same way? Har har har...

Serious about Souvenirs

If you recall, in 3.5 months in Europe I essentially bought only one thing for myself as a souvenir. It was a cute and portly piggy bank and I love him very much. He is currently full of change and holding up books on my bookshelf - he is multi-talented. Our trip to Japan was a bit different.

I mentioned that in Osaka there is an extensive web of shopping arcades. Block after block of pedestrian streets lined with shops, restaurants, and entertainment venues; one of the main attractions in Osaka, and other cities. It's fun to walk up and down the endless avenues and engage in total sensory overload of all the colors, flashy lights, loud noises, and masses of people. It was in this vast sea of commerce that I found the kitchen and restaurant supply area of stores.

This may not sound exciting; it's not like I'm in the market for a deep fryer while on vacation. And while they do sell stoves, mixers, and other large restaurant kitchen items, they also sell serving dishes. In America, we typically see the standard white, round ceramic plate at restaurants. Sometimes they go all chic and use square or rectangular plates. In Japan, each meal consists of a great many types of food, each with its own sauce or side. See the picture below for an example. This necessitates using up to half a dozen tiny plates and bowls to accommodate each person's meal. Hence, some of the stores in this fabulous area of town are what I like to call Bowl Stores, where people can purchase their multitudes of serving-ware.

The Bowl Stores make my eyes bug out and my heart skip a beat. I love bowls. I love all dishware in the same odd way that I love office supplies. Cute, decorative, and cheap Japanese dishes make me melt with happiness. There were half a dozen Bowl Stores in one strip of the Osaka arcades alone, in addition to there being a hearty dishware section at every dollar store (of which we frequented many, much to Marc and Kane's increasing dismay). It was fabulous. Look at the blissful chaos that is the Bowl Store:
I made multiple trips to the Bowl Stores, purchasing dozens of bowls and plates of different sizes and designs. Perusing the bowl selection was one of the most satisfying experiences ever. I bought a special little carrier to carry them home and Kane carried all these bowls for me from Osaka to Tokyo and then on the plane back - he's the nicest and bestest boyfriend ever. And so I arrived home triumphant, with not one broken or chipped platter, and am able to present you with this--behold the bowls that I bought in Japan:

Engrish

I think we take it for granted that it's hard to speak other languages. Well, maybe you and I don't take it for granted, since we probably don't speak any other languages and have little prospects of learning (myself at least), but as a society I think we kind of do. Example: I am assuming that any billboard written in Spanish (there are plenty in Hayward) is written in correct Spanish. Similarly, when I see the menu at a Chinese restaurant, or see the labels on my hair dryer in 14 languages, I'm assuming they are all written in proper other-language.

I suppose the first problem with this assumption is that there is no way for me to know this. But the validating fact for this assumption is that we, in America, have access to people speaking pretty much every language. It would not be difficult to hire someone to correct your Mandarin or Farsi or French around here. It would probably be difficult to find someone who couldn't correct your Spanish. You get my meaning - there are a zillion of us crammed into America, and we're from all over and speak a variety of languages. We're all used to it by now.

In Japan, this is not the case. 98% of the population of Japan is Japanese. Can you imagine such homogeneousness*?! I did find it odd. Everyone is Japanese! Anyway, the point I'm getting at is that they may not have someone - their neighbor, co-worker, friend - who speaks every other language on the planet. When they print signs or goods with English words, for example, they don't necessarily have a proofreader driving by in every other car, or sitting at the table deciding how the words will go. At least I assume this is the case, as it seems reasonable to me. It is this occurrence leads to what we call Engrish**.

We know that Japanese (and I think Chinese, too?) people have a problem with the Ls and Rs in our language. They also have problems with articles (a, the, an) and general word placement. When we were in Japan, we saw this all over. And though I love Japanese people, their culture, and, let's face it, their food, I found it humorous to poke fun at them from time to time. I hope they don't take too much offense as I point out some of the better Engrish that we came across during our trip.

Exhibit 1: Food-Related Engrish (click to enlarge)

The motto "Italian food of sticking to" is just not a catch phrase that draws me in the door. I'm not sure exactly what they mean by "Not for having but for tasting", but it may just be a stupid phrase instead of bad English. Pretty sure they shoved an extra "h" in the "silky touch" napkin, and, my personal favorite...miso soup is "soup from soybean past"...so spooky.

Exhibit 2: In Store Notices (click to enlarge)

I think the "it is accounting in each floor" was trying to tell you that every floor has its own cash register and you should check out with the stuff you buy on each floor rather than carry it all around the complex. But, I am clairvoyant, so I'm not sure how anyone else interprets this. I did "take care about the foot", thanks for the warning. However, I found it hard to not touch the wall while I repaired it, though I tried my hardest. They were so close with "the front entrance is this place", but, no cigar.

Exhibit 3: Engrish at Museums and Sites (click to enlarge)

No idea what sign #1 is trying to say about the "hot fighting"; this was a label at a museum exhibit. The other three were at a monkey park outside of Kyoto. These people need some assistance with their translations, that's all I'll say.

Exhibit 4: Dollar Store Engrish (click to enlarge)

Yes, the dollar store. Why do they offer items in English at the dollar store when the English is totally unintelligible? I have no idea. Is it extremely amusing? Yes it is. Am I going to stop answering my own questions? Yes, I am. These were all little envelopes, I'm not sure what you're supposed to use them for. The quotes are: "The place is his reserved seat. He generally passes daytime there."; "Pleasure to have a gut feeling" (my personal favorite, so romantic); and "Heaven Scent: For a wonderful friend! A perennial favorite." Them's sum gud Engrish.

A couple more good ones:

This sign (above) makes slightly more sense when you know that the store is called "can-do". Also, a wagon is a shopping cart. For everything else, you're on your own.

The only thing funny about this sign is the bottom right warning. No danger allowed.

And finally, the finale (above, click to enlarge) - the remaining Engrish signs that I photographed while we were in Japan. Enjoy.

*I looked it up, that is a word.
**By the way, there is indeed an entire website dedicated to this, engrish.com, and no, I have not submitted anything.

Tokyo Subway at Rush Hour

Tokyo has one of the largest and busiest subway systems in the world. One of the main inner-city stations, Shinjuku station, boasts over 3 million people passing through it every day, making it the busiest train station in the world. Though we did not experience this particular station during peak hour (which I'm sort of thankful for), we did manage to capture a glimpse of the madness on our last morning in Japan.

We wanted to see the Tokyo fish markets, which are best before, like, 6am, but go strong until around 10-11am, per our guidebook. We had gone the day before, but some unknown holiday meant that it was closed (we were upset at the early wake-up for no reason). This was our last day to try it - we were up at 6:45 and out the door two hours later (we had to eat, pack, and check out in the interim). And so it was at the tail end of rush hour that we approached the subway, and were finally up early enough to see it at it's very worst.

To be honest, we were both morbidly curious about the subway at rush hour. We'd heard tales of transit employees being placed outside train doors for the specific purpose of shoving people onto the trains to pack them as full as possible. We did not see this particular practice, but we did experience a mass of humans unlike anything we've ever seen, even in all our travels.

Our entrance station was at the end of a subway line, so when we got on, there were very few people. We took good standing positions against the far wall across from the doors (leaning against the inoperable doors), so as to ensure easy access when we needed to exit. The station we wanted was about ten stops down the road, so we had a bit of time to wait.


At each stop, a relatively large number of people would get on our train. In Japan everything is orderly and calculated, so at every stop there was a neat line of business people standing in front of each train door. The train conductor parks the train at each station such that the doors line up exactly with the noted marks on the floor of the platform. The trains are always on time, and when they pull up, the doors open, the line of people steps aside to let any passengers wishing to disembark out of the train, and then proceeds to file onto the train in the order in which they arrived at the station. It's blissfully calm and organized.

At rush hour, this process is no different, except that the amount of free space on each train car diminished very quickly and we all had to pack tighter and tighter at each stop. After a few stops, the train was what I would consider full. All the seats on either side of the train were taken, and all the standing room was filled. I was still comfortable at this point though, with a modest amount of space between myself and those passengers around me such that we weren't in constant physical contact.

At the next stop, this changed. About 20 more people filed on with no hesitation; now we were all smooshed together, body to body. Ok, I've been to concerts before, no big deal, it's only for a few stops. Next stop, 20 or so more people smash onto our train. Now we're not just touching the other passengers, we're pushing on them and they on us. Odd, but, people have places to go, so we'll have to deal with it. Next stop, 20 more people get on. At this point, we were really squished. I hadn't really though it was possible to pack more people on the train, but apparently it was. Fortunately we were against the back wall so we were only surrounded by people on one side and not the other. I was smashed against the inoperable door so hard, I thought I might break it.

At this point, I was highly amused. Can you imagine being smashed on a BART train or any other urban train system like this? You'd have obnoxious teenagers yapping to each other, moms babbling away on cell phones, homeless dudes trying to cop a feel. The Tokyo subway at rush hour is not like this. Everyone is in business clothes. Suits, leather shoes, nice coats. Their hair is combed. Everyone showered but a few short hours ago. No one is on a cell phone, and in fact, no one speaks at all. It's a completely homogeneous crowd of well-dressed, silent people. It's fabulously entertaining.

And though pick pocketing and groping aren't the norm, groping has become quite a problem in these consistently over-packed cars. Men who molest women on the crowded subway cars are called chikan and are apparently fairly common. It is for this reason that certain railway lines have instituted "women-only" train cars during rush hour, so that women can be safe on their ride to/from work. I did not see nor experience any of this (except that I saw the women-only cars), but it's interesting to know what's going on under the surface.

The best part? Once the train car was completely full and we all had to take turns breathing in, the way additional people cram onto the car was like this:

1. Doors open
2. New passenger standing at the entrance to the train car turns around so that their back faces the train and the solid mass of people inside it.
3. New passenger backs into the mass of people in the train car.
4. Mass of people on the train somehow absorb this extra person, and the person wiggles themselves on until they've cleared the threshold for the doors.

It is both incredible and hilarious to watch. And everyone knows the protocol! Not one frightened or confused passenger took a look at us sardines and waited for the next train. Each person took stock of the situation, turned around, and backed into the hoard of humans behind them. If I had had the space for my lungs to expand to chuckle, I would have.

At this point the train car really was full. We were reluctantly accepting one or two people at each stop, and we were so smashed together that each additional person stepping on the train was a true feat. While Kane and I figured we would survive this endeavor, we weren't sure how we'd get off the train when our stop came. There was no way we could "excuse me" our way through the crowd like on a normal train. We had resolved that we'd be forced to miss our exit and get off at the first station where it was physically possible, then get back on the opposite direction and hope we could exit at our stop. There was just no other way.

As we approached closer and closer to our stop, we kept hoping some people would get off the train. They wouldn't. Where were all these people going? How could they do this every day? We didn't want to miss our stop, but what else could we do? We pulled up to the stop right before ours. Everyone on the train emptied out onto the platform one by one, leaving the two of us and a few weary stragglers on the train car. Deep breath, and, sigh. Thank goodness. Where were they all going? I have no idea. But we were fortunate enough to be heading to a stop that came after wherever they were all going. Whew.

So, with a clear view of the floor of the entire train (which was, and is, always spotless, by the way), we sauntered off the subway train at our intended stop, free from harm. We made it through the Tokyo subway at rush hour, and we're darn proud.

Japanese Food

I loved Japanese food before we even set foot on Japanese soil. I love lots of food, hence why I now have a food blog. But Japanese food has long held a special place in my heart. I'm really glad that I waited until my Japanese food tastes matured to a point where I could enjoy a lot of what Japan had to offer (namely sushi and sashimi) before venturing across the great Pacific. I don't eat meat that isn't seafood (no beef, pork, chicken, etc.), so there was a certain amount of food in Japan that I didn't experience. I'm not really sad about it the same way I'm not sad about missing those foods in my own country. It doesn't work if you're always yearning for food you "can't" have; I like being veggie/fishie. Fortunately, the Japanese are very keen on their seafood, and so am I. We got along well.

The first thing I was wondering with three weeks of vacation ahead of me was if I was going to get sick of Japanese food. I tend to get sick of things quickly. Not only that, I tend to binge on one type of food for a while and then get so sick of it that I never want to see it again. It's sort of irritating - send your sympathy to poor Kane who has to deal with it. This is one reason that I love living in the Bay Area; great food of all different nationalities at my fingertips all the time. I never have to get sick of anything because I can constantly change it up.

In Japan, they eat Japanese food. They have other food, but they mostly have Japanese food. And since I love it so much, I was happy to have it for every meal every day. This is what I thought might kill the whole experience - too much too fast. But I found that I did not get sick of Japanese food. I loved it for every meal, every day. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner for three weeks straight did not curb my desire for this kind of food. Sure, I got a bit sick of all the deep fried stuff after a while, and the strictly protein/rice diet was starting to weigh on my system a bit, but I was far from sick of the food. In fact, the day after we got back, I was sad to have cereal for breakfast; I wanted my weird Japanese breakfast that I'd grown to love. So let's talk about some of the food we had and where we had it.

Breakfast
I'm not sure what people in Japan eat for breakfast, like, in the privacy of their homes. There were occasional bake shops, and things like pancakes and waffles could be found at certain restaurants, though they're usually for dessert. This is what we were served, generally, every morning at our hotel:

• Rice Balls: small triangular balls of cohesive rice, sometimes with something in the middle like tuna or pickles, sometimes with stuff sprinkled on the outside like seaweed flakes or sesame seeds.
• Pickles: pickles are everywhere in this country, they seem to pickle everything. I didn't always know what vegetable I was eating a pickle of, but they were offered with most breakfasts, and most meals for that matter.
• Bread: thick, white bread cut in half. There was a toaster and butter and jam packets. I don't know how this fits in with the rest of the Japanese stuff, but I ate it all.
• Rolls/Croissants: depending on the hotel, sometimes there was bread, sometimes rolls or croissants instead.
• Salad: Green salad with choice of ginger-oil or mayonnaise-based dressing.
• Macaroni or Potato Salad: we liked to call the macaroni salad "mayonnaise noodles" because that's what they were. Potato salad was consistently good, in my opinion.
• Mini Sausages: sometimes there were party wieners. Why? Not sure. I avoided them.
  
• Miso Soup: always delicious, see the picture below for a humorous sign (I wonder if they serve soup from soybean present?):

• Tea/Coffee/OJ (sometimes)/Milk (sometimes)

I typically had a breakfast of salad with ginger dressing, miso soup, rice balls, pickles, potato/macaroni salad, and toast or croissants. It was great. I love salad for breakfast, it's so refreshing. Miso soup should be at every meal in my opinion; it's light, salty, tasty, warm. I love this breakfast and I want it in my home. It's just not the same when I make it though...

Nomihodai
One of the more interesting things we encountered in Japan was nomihodai, pronounced, roughly and in my crappy American accent nom-ay-hoo-dye. This means "all you can drink". This is offered sometimes at bars (with a time limit) and you can get totally plastered for a less-than-standard fee, but we utilized this fabulous idea in a much more fun and coherent way. We found a coffee shop with an all-you-can-drink beverage bar. This particular coffee shop had no English menu, so we could not figure out what the deal was with the drinks, but Marc faithfully remembered the word for all you can drink and we were able to do it. The listed three different prices for the all you can drink bar, but we didn't know the difference (maybe one was for cold beverages only, one for hot, and one for both? we couldn't tell) and just had to hope they charged us accordingly.


It was awesome. There's the coffee machine to the far left - but we couldn't read the labels so we weren't sure exactly what we were getting each time. Trial and error is a good tactic at the all you can drink bar. Plus, Japanese coffee is terrible anyway, so it's pretty much just an exercise in how much sugar and milk you can physically fit into your coffee cup to make it palatable. Next to that is the hot tea area, then the iced tea jugs, then the wacky soda machine (see green soda below - not sure what flavor it was exactly), then the hot chocolate machine, which was the star of the show. We had a fabulous time getting all water-logged before a day of walking around.


Sushi Train
For lunch (and sometimes dinner) we often found ourselves being sucked into a sushi train restaurant. They have these kinds of restaurants in America (and Australia) too, but there's one on every block in a downtown area of Japan. A sushi train works like this: you are seated in a row at a counter, like in an old coffee shop. In front of the counter is a conveyor belt that winds around the restaurant in front of all the customers. On the conveyor belt are little plates, each with a type of sushi on it. The patrons view the plates as they pass by on the conveyor in front of them, and take whatever looks good. You take the whole plate off the conveyor, eat what's on it, and stack up all the plates you take so they can bill you at the end. In the middle of the sushi train, the area in the center of the big conveyor belt loop, are the sushi chefs. They make little plates of sushi and continuously refill the conveyor belt with these plates as they are taken by the patrons. It's a fabulous idea and I think all food should be served this way. It means you get a little bit of everything you want. It's fabulous!

Most places have about six different colors of plates, all corresponding to different prices, which are posted all around the restaurant for you to consult. Some sushi trains offer all the plates at the same price, which makes it easier for us cheapos, though the dishes don't get quite as fancy when they're cheap like that. Then you can also summon one of the chefs or a host/ess if you want to order something in particular, which they'll happily make and deliver to you. The ginger and soy sauce is unlimited and free and lives on the counter between every other seat where you can take it at your leisure to go with your sushi. There are some other variations of this arrangement, but those are the basics of the sushi train...and it's making me want some right now. Let's look at some of my sushi train pics (click to enlarge):


Izakaya
An izakaya (pronounced is-uh-kie-uh) is supposed to be a place where you get drinks and have some little foods to accompany the drinks, like tapas. We used this for full blown dinner probably a dozen times. And forget the drinks, we'll have tapas with tapas, thank you very much. Most of these places had an English menu (we had to share it between us) which we'd use to order many rounds of dishes during our stay. And the very best part? The button. To call the waiter over, you press a button at your table. Within seconds (usually) your waiter has arrived, ready to take your next order. It's fabulous. We really racked up quite a bill a few times (oh this is only $5, and this is only $3...and on and on), but had a pretty dang good time doing it. Here's some izakaya food that we enjoyed (click to enlarge):


And while there is a whole plethora of other things to talk about, I'll stop this entry now before your eyes become too weary. Needless to say, I fully enjoyed the food in Japan, and just writing about it is making my tummy rumble. Oh, I could go for some sashimi right about now...

Karaoke Part II

So, you're sick of reading about Japan. I don't care, I'm writing more anyway. I kept a log of possible blog topics the whole time I was there just so that I could make sure to touch on the most interesting (to me) aspects of our trip when I got home. And by George (whoever he is), I'm using that list. Today is a bit of a reprieve since I'm discussing a topic previously blogged upon, but I have in store (hopefully) stories of food, Engrish, hotels, Tokyo Rush Hour, and, of course, an obligatory budgetary pie chart and commentary.

You may recall that I previously discussed at length the merits of Japanese karaoke, describing our experience in Kyoto thoroughly. First karaoke was a great time, we really loved it.

For good measure, we decided to try it again on one of the last days of the trip, this time in Osaka. We found a karaoke establishment of the same chain as the first one we went to, but this one was not nearly as nice. It was smaller, the lobby was not nearly as grandiose, and the rooms were older and dingier. For some reason the "Premium" rooms here were far more expensive than the Standard ones, so we went with the Standard.

We were met with a less thrilling version of the previous experience. The room was smaller, the walls were wood paneled, and the tv was not a flat screen (see below). Borrrrring. It was ok, and we had a good time, but it was nothing like the first time in Kyoto. Ah, memorieeees.


This time we chose such hits as: Ob-La-Di Ob-La-Da, The Rose, Summer of '69, Waterfalls (my personal favorite), Billie Jean, Ain't too Proud to Beg, Hit the Road Jack, Rocky Raccoon, with a finale of The Cars' You Might Think. We did also manage to appropriately fit in Styx with Domo Arigato Mr. Roboto, so don't worry your pretty head about that one going missing.

Since my videos from the original karaoke incident have been properly stored and labeled, Kane has so generously agreed to be featured on this blog, singing his rendition of Billy Idol's Eyes Without a Face. This is from our original karaoke expedition and also shows Marc and Alana faithfully fumbling with the music remote control (it's all in Japanese, we were still figuring it out) and messing up Kane's song. Take it away, Kane:

Travel Companions

Note: The final set of Japan pics is here (Japan III: Osaka (again) and Tokyo).

---

When I tell people that Kane and I traveled with another couple for two weeks, I often get responses like,

"Did you guys drive each other nuts?"

"I don't think I would be happy to see that much of my friends."

"You guys hung out the whole time?"

Apparently it's quite a point of contention, even among the closest friends. How is it possible to be with another couple virtually non-stop for 15 days? I'm not sure, but it is. We did it.


Let's not ignore the fact that we had many a trial run with these particularly fine folks. We started hanging out at the beginning of 2008 and steadily ramped up our meet-up schedule for the following year and a half. Six months after we met them, we were seeing each other at least once a week. A year after we met, we were hanging out almost every weekend and at least once during the week. In March 2009 we geared up for our first trip together: a four day jaunt over to Alice Springs and Uluru in the hot, dry center of Australia. On that trip we were really attached at the hip, even staying in the same hotel room together. In June 2009 we put the pedal to the metal and moved our moochy-asses in with Marc and Alana, staying in their apartment for the few weeks until we left Australia permanently (sad face).

Making friends is a bit like dating. At first you know you like each other, but you're searching for things in common, looking to make some memories and establish some norms and inside jokes to work from. You get to know each other a bit better, and, assuming everything is still going well, you become more casual, make cruder jokes, and start to make memories together. You want to hang out more, but you don't want to impose; then you find out they feel the same way - joy! The best of friends remain friends even in the face of time and distance. Marc and Alana are those types of friends to us - we'd like to commit ourselves to a lifelong friendship with them. Did we friend-propose to Marc and Alana on this trip? No, but probably only to avoid the awkwardness.

It has always seemed plain, to me at least, that we're a group that gets along well. We work well together, we can make decisions, and we have a hierarchy for leadership already established (the boys are cool with whatever, Alana and I hash out the rest). None of us are drama queens (or kings). None of us are difficult or inflexible or overbearing. None of us are extremely different from the other three in what activities we'd like to partake during vacation*. None of us are easily offended or find it difficult to be relatively honest with each other. On this trip we each had our roles: Alana was the planner, I was backup planner and keeper of maps and directions, Kane told us which direction we were going/facing and was keeper of the guidebook and general carrier of stuff, Marc held the iPhone compass for when we came out of subway stops and had no idea which way we were facing. We all contributed to the "what do you want to do today?"s and the "what do you feel like eating for lunch"s. A well oiled machine; we were smooth.

It is these traits that seem to make good traveling buddies, for us at least. If at first they seem like good, solid people, test them out, then book a flight and enjoy. Or have a completely disastrous vacation, whichever happens first. For us, we had a great time together. I'll speak for myself (so as not to impose on my perhaps-politely-smiling-friends**) when I say that at no time was I peeved or dreading waking up to another day of sightseeing with Marc and Alana. As you know from my relationship with Kane, if it's the right person (or people), I am cool to hang out 24/7. Give me Marc and Alana any day (or all day every day) and I'll be happy.

*With the exception of Marc who likes to go drinking. For the most part, he didn't get his way, since the rest of us aren't as into it (mostly me). Sorry, Marc, I hope you can forgive.

**They're like, "What is she talking about? We're never booking a trip with those freaks again."

A Tale of Three Cities

On this trip we spent 20 days in Japan, mostly concentrated in the cities of Osaka, Kyoto, and Tokyo. Japan is a country with an area about 10% smaller than that of California with a population about 3.5 times more than my fair home state. 127 million people call Japan home, and 98.5% of them are of Japanese descent. Talk about not in Kansas anymore. The time we spent in this wonderful country was mostly divided between the major two cities in the Kansai region of the country, Osaka and Kyoto, shown on the map below.


On the map above you can see Tokyo (click to enlarge the map) marked in approximately the geographic middle on the eastern coast. The Kansai region is highlighted pink (and shown close-up on the map below), and Osaka, its largest city, is marked in tiny print. Kane, Marc and I flew into Tokyo on March 4 and spent one night near the airport. On the 5th, we three headed down to Osaka, via Tokyo, on the bullet train, which takes about 2.5 hours covering over 500km (about 310 miles). The bullet train (Shinkansen) is like a regular train, but in fast forward motion. It's awesome.


Our schedule was a bit weird because we wanted to meet Alana in Osaka (she flew in there), but we also wanted to be in Osaka for the sumo tournament in mid-late March, toward the end of our trip. We decided to spend three nights in Osaka, March 5, 6, 7, head over to Kyoto for eight days, then come back to Osaka at the end of the trip to see the sumo. A bit strange, but it worked.

So, on March 5, we trained to Osaka and met Alana. Her ability to find our hotel alone and unassisted was incredible. March 6 and 7 we poked around the Namba area of Osaka, a city with 2/3 the population of Los Angeles crammed into 1/5 the area, wandering the endless arcades and marveling at the flashy lights and plastic food displays. It was a good introduction for us since we could discover the culture and acclimate to everything at our own pace.

On March 8 we took the one hour train ride over to Kyoto, the nearby cultural capital of the country. For eight days we walked around the compact but plentiful downtown area, meandered the cobbled streets of the traditional (now touristy) avenues, and visited temples and shrines aplenty. This is also where we were able to do the geisha dress-up, which was one of the highlights of the trip for me. This was also the place Marc chose to propose to Alana in a fancy romantic (read: expensive) restaurant on the most famous traditional street in Kyoto overlooking a tiny, pretty creek.

Kyoto is a wonderful town that apparently boasts a massive population of 1.5 million, but has the charm and feel of a city much smaller. Apparently, much to my surprise, the Allies purposely refrained from bombing Kyoto in WWII in order to preserve the cultural significance that is so rich and concentrated in this area. Now some of the oldest and best preserved cultural artifacts are located in and around Kyoto for us to enjoy.

Eight days was a great amount of time for us to spend in Kyoto - we got to see most of the major sights, but we could do so at a leisurely pace. On March 16 we took the train back to Osaka and stayed there again, in our exact same hotel rooms no less, for another three nights. We took one day trip out to Himeji Castle (pictured below) in the nearby town of the same name to see the most visited castle in Japan. We took another brief day trip out to Nara, a city known for the deer that eat out of your hand in the central city park (pictured below Himeji). Finally, we did get to see a sumo match, which was extensively blogged about in a previous post.


On March 19 we said goodbye to Alana as she flew out of Osaka back to Melbourne. The three of us then trained up north that day, retracing our steps back to Tokyo. Marc spend the following half day with Kane and me in Tokyo walking around the electronics district and over to the massive famous crosswalk in the suburb of Shibuya (pictured below). That afternoon we said goodbye to Marc as he flew home, and Kane and I continued to explore Tokyo for another two and a half days. We were pretty tired by this point, but still managed to make it over to the major sightseeing districts before heading out on a flight on March 23.


We had a great trip. The people, the sights, the food - it was all fabulous. Kyoto was my favorite place that we visited, and I really hope we can make it back over there again someday.

Domo Arigato

Thank you, Japan, we hope to meet again someday. We arrived back home today and were faced with 10am when our brains felt like 3am. Jet-lag is a funny thing. We took a power nap/coma just before noon and are now wiiiide awake at midnight. So it goes. It will work itself out.

We loved our Japan trip. It was fabulous. I wasn't able to blog as much on this trip because we were actually out doing things so much, and we couldn't very well hold back our dynamic duo duo (two duos, get it?) by sitting in our room all day on the internet, no matter how much I may have wanted to. And because we did so much, I have that much more to say about our trip. Instead of furiously blogging during the trip, I did instead take scrupulous notes and have many a blog entry topic composed in my brain and my journal. Everything from taxi drivers, to food, to toilets will be discussed in the upcoming weeks, along with the highly anticipated pie charts on how we busted the budget. It seems we are far less discerning with our cash when we're with friends...

For now, feast your eyes on the latest pics from Kyoto. We were in Kyoto from March 9-16 and it was the place we stayed the longest and did the most activities. It also worked out to be my favorite place, fancy that. I have, like my blog, neglected to post many photos from the trip. I have not, however, neglected to take pictures. 15GB or so after leaving SFO, I have a few memories to post to the internet. Please stay tuned for more info and pics/videos on Japan even though we're not actually in Japan anymore. Maybe I'll try to go to sleep now...

Sumo

Thursday we attended the last few hours of the sumo wrestling tournament held in Osaka every year. Apparently there are 6 Grand Tournaments each year (3 in Tokyo, 1 each in Osaka, Nagoya, and Kyushu) and the same 800 or so professional sumo wrestlers compete in these tournaments, getting ranked and re-ranked each time. The basic idea is that the tournaments are 15 days long and each wrestler competes in one match per day against a different opponent. The person with the best record at the end (wins versus losses of those 15 matches) wins the tournament.

Upon entering the gymnasium, it took us a while to find our seats and figure out what was going on. Once we finally got seated in our cheap seats, we watched for about three hours of continuous wrestling matches, or “bouts”. The funny thing about the seating arrangement in the arena was that the cheapo seats in the back were regular flip up chairs like at a movie theater, with a pillow strapped to the top for added comfort. The expensive seats, closer to the wrestlers, were big pillows on the floor. The floor was tiered so that each row could see over the one below it, and the separate “boxes” of seats were separated by metal bars about 6” off the ground, so that you're not just bleeding over into your neighbors little seating area. Each “box” of seats held 4 people (hence had 4 pillows). I was glad we weren't sitting there, that seemed far more uncomfortable to me (here's a picture of the "expensive" seats).

When we went by the ticket checker on the way in, we received a little booklet containing some information about sumo wrestling as a tradition, its evolution into a modern sport, the rules and rankings, and about all the little intricacies and rituals they do during the bouts. It was all quite interesting and helped to understand what we were watching. The wiki article is also pretty comprehensive if you'd like more info. Here are a couple of the big boys waiting for a taxi after the match. The taxi was noticeably lower to the ground after they got in...

The layout of a match is this: a man with a fan announces the next two contenders in a weird singing voice. Then the two dudes get up onto the little 18' square x 2' tall platform and the ref, dressed in a big silk get-up, mediates a bow between them. Then they begin their ritualistic preparation for the actual fight. They each stand in a corner (adjacent corners, incidentally, rather than opposing corners) facing outward toward the audience, clap their hands in front of them once, and raise their legs up in the air one at a time and stomp them on the ground. This is the classic sumo move that you would imitate if you were a kid. They then take a little towel, wipe their face and sometimes their arms or body with it. From a little pouch on the floor, they grab a small handful of salt, turn toward the ring, and toss the salt onto the sandy floor of the ring. Then they enter the 15' circle in the center of the platform, face each other, crouch down on tip toes with their feet out 180 degrees apart and glare at each other for a second. Then they stand, move back a step, and crouch again with their feet flat and place their fists on the ground for a second.

They look at each other and stand up again, turn to face the audience, and saunter back to their respective corners while slapping their arms and bodies as they walk. They do the towel and salt thing again in their corners. They step into the ring again and do the crouching bit. They can do this over and over as much as they want as long as they keep it all under four minutes.

Apparently, before 1928, the wrestlers could continue this ritual preparation indefinitely. In 1928 a 10 minute time limit was imposed, which was later reduced to 7 minutes, then 5, and finally 4. We're getting less patient as time goes on, apparently. I don't blame them; there's only so many times that these repetitive motions are interesting to watch.

They usually do this prep a few times, during which the crowd gets more and more excited. People start yelling more, and sometimes a bit of a cheer goes off when the wrestlers finish glaring and start to walk back to their corners. When the contenders are finally ready to go, they get down in the steady crouch position, hesitate for a second, then run at each other full force. Most matches were over in a matter of seconds – you have to be careful not to look away during the less exciting part lest you miss the action. The “moves” are mostly executed by pulling or pushing on the opponent's waist bands, though a lot of face pushing and general man-handling seems to go on before then. Here's a quick video to show what happens:



The goal is to make your opponent either touch the ground with anything other than his feet, or push him out of the ring. If either of those happen, the match is over. Like I said, it usually goes pretty quickly; the longest match we watched was probably 30 seconds (they stopped to rest in a nice little hug for a bit, like ultimate fighters or boxers often do).

We all found it to be quite interesting to watch and were really happy that we went. It's such a strange and unique sport and the way each match was over so quickly was sort of refreshing. Alana and I agreed that we liked it better than any sporting event we've ever watched in our own countries (or any country, really). The matches start at like 8am and go all day – we didn't like it so much that we wanted to watch for 10 hours, but the last 3 hours were very cool. The order of the matches in a day goes worst ranked to best, so the last three hours have the biggest and best guys and the seats tend to fill up at that time. The very best guy was in the last match (he won) and I took a video of the last 3 minutes of that match. It's a bit long, but here it is if you're interested. Go sumo!!

Walk Like a Geisha*

It is estimated that only about 1,000 real geisha currently practice this traditional art in the entire country of Japan, and unless you have big bucks to spend, you're probably not ever going to get more than a glimpse of one. To summarize the wiki article (linked above, it's quite interesting): geisha are artists who are trained in dance, song, and other forms of entertainment to be able to entertain guests. The misconception about them being prostitutes comes from people making stuff up since the institution is so secretive.

The Gion district of Kyoto is apparently the most geisha-tastic area of Japan; the most prominent geisha can be found here. Geisha is plural for geisha, by the way, so work with that. We've seen a total of eight-ish geisha in our time here, and apparently they're all fake. The real geisha only come out at dusk and walk briskly to their destination. The many other geisha walking around are people who pay to dress up like geisha and take pictures. But since they're commonly Japanese girls, they look real to me. See? They look nice, I think:


The point is, we realized that you can pay to dress up like a geisha and take pictures; Alana and I thought that sounded like a fabulous idea. We found this really nice website for a place in Kyoto and went to stake it out. I figured they would be booked up since they have a reservation form that talks about reserving weeks in advance, but the lady said she could squeeze us in at 5pm that day! We were super excited.

Arriving back at 5pm to start or geisha journey, we spent the next two hours in a little house with very short doorways being primped and prepped as geisha. This is the tale of what happens behind fake geisha doors.

We were brought into a locker room and told, in broken English, to strip down to our undies and put on a little robe. There were lockers to store our stuff and they gave us a tiny cute wicker basket to put our camera and locker keys in to take with us. There were some other Japanese girls in the tiny room who were taking their makeup off; they had just finished their geisha experiences. Upon noting my confusion on how to strap the robe on (you had to put the rope through a hole in the side of the robe...more complex than necessary), one of the girls came over to help me secure my robe. When she wrapped the rope around me the right way it barely met again in the front. I could not tie a bow like I was supposed to and instead had to tie a tiny knot. Damn tiny clothing. Robed (or, partially robed for me), we proceeded across the hall to the makeup room.

We were each sat on a stool next to each other facing a mirrored wall. We each had a girl to make us up. They began by putting a little netting over our hair to secure the hair down. Next, some baby oil went on our faces and necks, followed by some wax which the girl said was makeup base. After that they used big, flat, semi-circular brushes to lather on white paint to our faces and necks. Back of the neck, chest, neck, chin, and bottom half of the face were covered in about 30 seconds. They they used a slightly pinker color on the forehead, eyes and cheeks, though the colors looked the same when I opened my eyes. Next they took a big puffy thing that looks like what you use to apply powder (like over your foundation makeup) and slapped our faces and necks with it to make a nice even look to get rid of the brush strokes.

We were ghost white and it was weird. They then used some pink blush on our eyelids and below our eyes. A lot of this is very subtle but ends up with a very nice look; I was surprised at how intricate it all was. Then came the red eyeliner along the bottom of our eyes, then red, brown and black eyebrow pencil, then black liquid eyeliner along the top of the lids. My girl asked me to smile (closed mouth smile) and painted on my bright red lips. Mascara on the top lashes and we were all geisha-faced.

Next came the hair. I had been wondering how they did this since all the hair in pictures seemed to look real. But it can't be real, and they certainly can't do that hair style with my blond wispy hair. They took some hair on the front of my head out of the hair net and put a huge, heavy black wig behind it. They use some thread to weave the wig into my hair on the top of my head so it was a bit more secure. The thing is heavy and uncomfortable, just for the record. But now we both had wigs on with our own mismatched hair sticking out the front. The girls put some wax in our front hair and started to comb it back over the wig behind it so that our hair blended with the wig. That's how they make it look real, good thinking. Here's a shot of me as the girl is doing this, I call it my Cruella Deville look:



After our hair was done they sprayed it black (for both of us, but I assume they had to use more on me) and we were sort of unrecognizable at that point. They then led us upstairs to another mirrored room where we picked our kimonos. I got there about two minutes before Alana and I thought the girl was just going to pick one for me. But she motioned me to choose so I pointed to a blue kimono. The girl made a face. I shrugged and told her to pick for me. She pointed to a red one and said it was nicer. I said ok and she started the process of putting it on me while I stood in front of the mirror. Alana came in shortly after and picked another red kimono; I felt a bit bad because I knew she had wanted red in the first place and now we both had red ones. Oh well. Now we're Best Geisha Forever.

The process of putting on a kimono is long and tedious and involves being wrapped in many, many layers and having many strips of fabric tied around you to hold each layer a certain way. It's sort of ridiculous how much fabric is used, how much the configuration covers the female form (I was just a cylindrical blob by the end), and how heavy the uniform is. I quickly rescinded on any previous desires I had to be a geisha; between the wig and the kimono I would not stand a chance. And they didn't even put us in the platform sandals that normal geisha wear, thank goodness.


When we were done with the kimono they added a few things to our hair (I sat on a stool so the girl could reach, as pictured above) and then we were taken into an adjacent room to take pictures. Kane and Marc arrived at this point and started taking pictures with their cameras as we posed for the professional pictures. A woman and a man handled posing the both of us; there were two rooms where the pictures were taken and we alternated taking pics in each. We each got four poses and were instructed where and how to stand for each of them. It was pretty cool. Marc and Kane got some pics while we did all this too, seen below (click to enlarge).


Next we were taken to a little tiny garden in the middle of the building and were told we could take our own pictures there for ten minutes, which was really awesome. We posed and the boys snapped pics for longer than the allotted time and we got some decent shots. Good geisha and goofy geisha pics were taken, see collage below and click to enlarge.


Then the boys were sent out to the waiting area and we went back into the kimono room where we were de-burritoed, then down to the makeup room where our wigs were removed. We then went back to the locker room to take off the makeup and wash out the hair dye. Note: they use baby oil to remove makeup here and I'm not a huge fan of that. My hair dye would not come out all the way, so I put in a ponytail and went back out to the waiting room (after getting dressed). In the waiting room they gave us a little booklet of our pics (4-5x7s each and 1-5x7 of the picture we took together) and we paid our moneys. For the dress up, the four picture poses, one pose of us together, and one of all four of us (they let the boys get in one also) it was US$140! Expensive, yes. Worth it, totally.


Most fun thing ever. I love fake geisha dress up.

*The title was originally meant to be a play on the song "Walk Like a Man" by the Four Seasons, but now that I look at it, it works more with "Walk Like an Egyptian" by the Bangles. Interpret as you wish.

Superstar

Geisha? Yeah, they're all right. They turn heads walking down the street; some people snap pictures. But what do the Japanese people really want? Who walks the streets like a real superstar, glittering with a constant barrage of camera flashes? Who do the hordes of schoolgirls squeal over and back into corners like a frightened fox? He is tall, he is white, he has the coveted ginger look that is so rare in these parts...the one, the only, the infamous Marc Fairbairn.

We, just mere mortals, are privileged enough to be allowed to walk with him around, in public. Alana is the lucky lady who gets to hold his arm walking down the street -- a position envied by thousands, perhaps millions. Marc Fairbairn: the man, the legend, the future.

---

Yesterday we took a trip out to Kinkaku-ji, or the Golden Pavilion, one of the premier sights in Kyoto. This attraction is flooded with visitors both native and foreign on pretty much any day of the year, says our guidebook. Yesterday was no exception, the path around the temple and through the gardens was pretty solid with people the whole time we were there. Surprisingly, most of the visitors appear to be Japanese, and a great many of them are school kids, assumed to be on field trips. It is these kids who seem to be intrigued by the four of us more than anyone else we've encountered so far.

Walking through the grounds of this pavilion took us maybe 30 minutes. During that time we received countless sly looks, stifled giggles, and many, many "hello"s from passing schoolkids. Maybe they just wanted to practice their English on the token whities around? Maybe they were from more rural areas where westerners aren't seen as much? Maybe the four of us are just the goofiest people they've ever seen? I'm not really sure. But what is certain is that they liked one of us far more than the rest. Marc Fairbairn was an instant celebrity.


Lots of the kids were eying Marc, but only one girl had the cajones to actually approach him and ask for a picture. She spoke little English aside from the words "hello" and "picture", so it was not clear what she wanted initially. She pointed to her camera and Marc thought maybe she wanted him to take a picture of her with her friends. As her group of giggling friends progressively surrounded him after the initial contact was made, it became clear what they wanted. They wanted him and him alone in as many photos as could be snapped before he ran away.


The three of us scattered like ducks from a gunshot, leaving Marc all alone to bear the brunt of his popularity. He stood there red-faced and laughing as they took his picture in a flood of camera flashes. He tried to escape but they insisted on more. The three of us were laughing so hard that I thought we might die. Then he pulled out the coveted move - he held up two of his fingers in a peace sign. A roar of glee erupted from the girls and the cameras flashed like he was Michael Jackson. What can I say, the man knows how to work a crowd. After he was sufficiently blinded by flashes and embarrassed enough to last a lifetime, the crowd finally calmed down and we were able to approach our superstar of a friend again. It was pretty much the funniest and best thing that's ever happened ever, I think. I love Japanese people almost as much as they love Marc Fairbairn.

Karaoke

First, please look at my Osaka pics that have been posted to Picasa, if you haven't already seen them from Facebook. Ok, now do continue.

We're in Kyoto now, in the south-west-ish of the country, and actually only about a 40 minute train ride from Osaka. The cultural capital of traditional Japan, Kyoto is a lot less fast paced than her hyped-up sisters Osaka and Tokyo. Or so they say. And I don't disagree, I just don't really care at the moment because we've discovered something more packed with culture than any puppet show, dance performance, or geisha dress-up booth. We found the karaoke.

What is karaoke in the States? It's a bar, often a crappy one, that hires a guy or gal to come in on Friday nights with a microphone/speaker setup and a teleprompter that scrolls song lyrics. The patron drunkards sign up to sing their songs of choice on said apparatus and the rest of the audience is subject to this abuse, responding in whatever way they see fit. Lots of people like it, but it's pretty much an exercise in embarrassment for me. I don't want that. I don't like strangers even being near me, much less listening to me pontificate my favorite B-52's hit and missing all the high notes. In my country, I keep the singing to myself in the privacy of my own car, thank you very much.

But what if you could just do karaoke with only your own friends? What if you could get rid of all those strangers and sing to your heart's content in the comfort of, say, your own living room? Well, it is nice having someone to bring you drinks and food while you hang around, and my living room isn't actually all that exciting. How about this: you can rent your own personal little room that's decked out with a sprawling leather booth, a big table, adjustable mood lighting and temperature, and you get your own personal flat screen with touch screen remote to choose your karaoke songs at will? Yes, this is what I want. And there are speakers and microphones set up so you can sing yourself hoarse with your own group of buddies while still in the privacy and comfort of your own little sequestered area, not bothering or being bothered by other people who want to sing songs and drink drinks all night too. This is not a made-up place, this is the karaoke house in Japan.


Let's not forget about the Little White Phone perched handily on the wall of your private room. The Phone is what makes this whole deal go down; you can pick up said phone at any time and order whatever it is that you want. There are extensive menus for drinks, appetizers and desserts, all of which you can request be delivered at your convenience, provided that the Japanese lady on the other end can decipher your foreign tongue and you can figure out the menu since it is mostly in Japanese. It is FABULOUS. It's the pinnacle in entertainment as far as I'm concerned: a private activity that's fun and unique which you can't do at home, all at a reasonable price.

We opted for the "Premium" karaoke room (oh yeah, that's how we roll) since there was no wait and it was only marginally more expensive than the "Standard" room. It costs about $8 per person per hour and you can buy in half hour blocks. You get one soda free and you can buy as much other stuff as you want (though it's not required). And, at this particular establishment, the entire building was karaoke rooms; it's like a hotel but for karaoke. Twelve spectacular floors of karaoke splendor. The first many floors are for the "Standard" rooms (scoff) and the last four floors or so are "Premium" rooms, though I'm not sure what the difference really is. All I know is that we were on the 8th floor away from all the riff-raff and in sweet karaoke heaven. Below is the hallway outside our room:


Most of the staff spoke English really well so we actually had no problem. And the one girl who didn't speak English called in another guy who painstakingly translated the entire free soda menu onto a piece of paper so that we could choose our free drinks in an educated manner. I. Love. These. People.


The hours flew by in our awesome karaoke lounge, we sang song after song with and without microphonic aid (we'd mostly end up all singing together). Bohemian Rhapsody. The Sweater Song. Superstitious. Love Shack. Devil Inside. Faith. We Built This City (on Rock and Roll). Sussudio. Sweet Caroline. The hits kept coming until about 2am when we called it a night and took a cab home. The cab experience here is an entirely other blog entry, but also fabulous, as expected. I think we might have to have another karaoke night before our time in Japan is up. Best idea ever. If I can stand the loss of dignity, videos hopefully will be up soon.