Week 2: Seeking Something Familiar

Slowly, the unfamiliar becomes familiar, the exotic becomes the daily. I’m getting used to having no idea where I am or what’s going on around me. But I try. Some little part of me is always scanning for something familiar and rarely finding it. One day this week we went to a temple pagoda high on an eastern hill and looked down at Kyoto, identifying all the places we’ve been.

We are too big here, galumphing gaijin who don’t both fit in a two-person bus seat and whose heads bump the hand straps in subways.

The most poignant strangeness is the most intimate: we are cooking local foods using Japanese preparations, and our house smells like someone else’s house, not ours. So last night, we made spaghetti with marinara sauce and garlic bread. The house still smelled like garlic this morning, and I rejoiced.

BEING TOURISTS. Yesterday we went to Kyoto Handicrafts Center in search of a “Japanese” birthday gift for the grandson. Five floors of beautiful silk, cloisonné and damascene as well as samurai swords (ornamental), porcelain geisha dolls and hand-painted kites. And of course, kimonos and yukatas. For some reason, buying kimonos seems to be a big tourist thing, but I can’t imagine when or where I would ever wear one at home. Would I put it on display? Where?

The most popular place to buy kimonos is the Temple Fairs (flea market equivalent). Sunday, we went to Toji, reputed to be the largest of these. We took the subway to Kyoto Station, then walked the 1/2 kilometer to the temple grounds. About two blocks before we reached the temple, the sidewalks became so crowded we could only shuffle along at a snail’s pace. Inside the grounds, people were packed so tightly, we often couldn’t see what was on display, much less stop to make a purchase. But the atmosphere was like a county fair, and we sampled Japanese “fair food,” my favorite being sweet potato slabs deep-fried and rolled in sugar.

LIVING HERE. Having discovered a ¥50 Japanese language class at the Kyoto International Community House, I’ve decide to learn some Japanese while we’re here. However, since I seem to have a sieve where I used to have a memory, my expectations are modest.

We found a terrific bread bakery in the neighborhood, open 7am – 7 pm. By the way, most small retail businesses are open six days a week. Thing is, they all take different days off—Sunday, Monday, Tuesday or Wednesday. I’ve already lost count of the number of times we’ve gone someplace and arrived on “closing day.”

I’m trying to figure out how you find what you need here. For instance, let’s say you’re in the market for used furniture (as we are). How do you look that up in the Yellow Pages? What’s the organizing principle (not to mention how do you read it)? And then, addresses have nothing to do with street location except to identify the neighborhood. Inside the neighborhood, addresses are assigned in the order in which buildings were built. Each neighborhood has a map posted somewhere, if you can find it.

COFFEE. Starbucks still wins the marketing prize: We’ve sought coffee shops where we can stop and regroup on our outings, or just people-watch. Most places serve one small teacup-sized cup of coffee for $3.50-4.00—no refills—and are full of people smoking. Well, not FULL because, in fact, they often have few other people in them at all. Starbucks, on the other hand, serves their usual array of drinks at about the prices we’re used to, PLUS they have a Small size (yes, actually called Small) for this market. In addition, they have not just a section, but a whole separate room for non-smokers. Needless to say, they have been packed each time we’ve seen one.

MYSTERY. Here’s something else we cannot figure out: There’s a smattering of Westerners here, not a lot outside the tourist spots, but we see a few most days. Without exception, they studiously ignore us and each other. Jonathan says he finds himself doing the same thing, and now I’ve started to, too. Anyone have any ideas why that might be? I find it extraordinarily odd.