A time for renewal

I can hardly believe that I have been here for over three years. But, there are little reminders all over the place. My son has completed a two-year kindergarten and has moved onto the next level of schooling - elementary school. I have enjoyed a third Japanese birthday cake with my name on it. And, my driver’s license was up for renewal.

It doesn’t matter when you get your initial license in Japan. It always expires one month after your birthday. How many years you have between renewals depends on how long you’ve had your license as well as your driving record. There are three levels of driver’s licenses here - green, blue, and gold. The green (indicating a new license) and blue licenses must be renewed every three years. If you have infractions (tickets, accidents, and so forth) on your license, you have to stick with this three year renewal cycle. However, if you make it to gold status (6 years accident and ticket-free), you only have to renew every 5 years.

With this renewal, I was moving up from a green to a blue license.

One month before my birthday, I received my renewal notice via a postcard. I had between then and one month after my birthday to go to the DLC (Driver’s License Center) to complete the process.

Last time, I had special circumstances that allowed me to jump through several hoops, specifically I didn’t have to attend driver’s education courses or a driving school and I didn’t have to take an exam because I hold a Washington State driver’s license (there is a special agreement between Japan and 4 states - Hawaii, Maryland, Virginia, and Washington). This time, I wouldn’t be so lucky.

We tried to leave early, but somehow managed to arrive at the DLC 30 minutes after it opened. While I have no idea what the line was like at 8 am, by 8:30 the line wrapped around the building and into the adjoining parking lot. My heart sank, knowing this was going to be a long process.

Once inside, I turned in my postcard and showed my driver’s license at Station 1. They handed over a form and directed me to Station 2. After filling out the form, I went to Station 2 and paid a fee (I can’t recall the exact amount, but it was less than $30USD). At Station 8 (out of order for some reason), I had to create a password that would be used later in the process. I had a vision test at Station 3 and turned in paperwork at Station 4. I picked up a printed document at Station 5 and then hopped over to Station 6 to get my picture taken.

After all that, I was directed upstairs to register for a class. I needed to sit through a 2 hour lecture before they would give me my updated license. Not looking forward to this portion, I took a deep breath and headed into the classroom. The rooms are filled in a first come, first serve basis. I had to laugh when I noticed all the desks in the back and sides of the classroom were filling up first. Some things don’t change, regardless of where you are in the world. I took my seat near the back and got ready for the course to begin.

An older gentleman arrived right at the starting time and stood at the front of the classroom. He was wearing his COVID uniform of a mask and face shield, as well as normal attire of a lapel microphone. He then walked the class through a variety of information. Some of it came from the two booklets we were given. Other, finer points, were explained with the help of an overhead projector. At some point we had to watch a video as well.

The whole course was in Japanese. I understood very little of it beyond the main concept of “don’t be a distracted driver.” At the beginning of class, the instructor emphatically told the class no cell phones were allowed. So, I just did my best and tried to stay engaged despite not comprehending most of the information. Thank goodness for the dried oranges I had in my bag that I could sneak whenever I felt my eyelids getting a bit too heavy.

At some point, we were given a short quiz. As soon as he started explaining it, my heart started beating super fast. Were they not going to to give me my license if I failed the quiz? But I couldn’t read the kanji (Chinese characters), let alone understand what was being asked! So I raised my hand and asked if I could use the translator on my phone. The teacher said it was fine. I pulled it out and did the best I could. After a couple questions I realized the quiz was a self reflection on distracted driving. Do you drive the same route everyday? Don’t get lazy and not pay attention! Do you drive while sleepy? That is very dangerous and reduces your reaction time! As soon I realized we didn’t even have to turn the quiz in, I breathed a sigh of relief.

Exactly two hours later, the class was done. I then stood in a line at Station 9 to pick up my license. (I have no idea where Station 7 was. Maybe it was the class...) A quick check on a computer using my new license and the passcode I had created earlier (to confirm everything matched and my license pulled up my information), and I was all done!

The whole process took 4 long hours! I’m so glad this isn’t an annual renewal. Maybe by the next time I have to go through this process I’ll understand more of what is said in the class. Then again, maybe not.

Escaping reality

At the end of 2002, I had been living in Japan for a couple of months and I experienced my first real battle of culture shock mixed with homesickness. I had never lived far from home (college was only an hour or two away to either parent’s house). I broke down in tears at small challenges and felt desperate to be with my loved ones. The emotional rollercoaster was confusing and overwhelming.

When my boyfriend (now husband) called to chat, I told him about my distress and he told me “I’ll be right there.” Soon, he arrived and informed me we were having a movie night. I shrugged my shoulders and invited him in. A quiet night inside sounded perfect for my overstimulated brain. I was a bit surprised that he chose an animated movie, but I wasn’t going to argue about it.

As I settled in, the movie “My Neighbor Totoro” started to play. It is a very famous cartoon about 2 young sisters who move to a new house with their dad while their mom is in the hospital. As they are adjusting to their current circumstances, they meet a new imaginary friend, Totoro. He is a big, soft, kind animal-like creature that brings them joy and comfort. And he did the same for me. I fell in love with that sweet creature on that day, and he’s held a special place in my heart ever since.

My Neighbor Totoro, and 21 other full-length movies, are the creation of Studio Ghibli. The studio has a cult-like following, with many famous characters that rival Mickey Mouse in popularity here. Although I’ve seen 17 of their movies, several of which I’ve watched countless times, Totoro always ranks top in my book.

Holding this adoration in my heart, I was excited to learn about the Studio Ghibli Museum in Mitaka, a suburb of Tokyo, on a trip to Japan with friends back in 2008. We were able to get tickets and made a special excursion to Tokyo to go. That museum visit had a lasting impact on me.

Because I had such a wonderful experience the first time, when we moved here, I wanted to take my son so badly. He had only watched two of their movies at that point (My Neighbor Totoro and Kiki’s Delivery Service), but it was on my list of things to do.

I didn’t realize how difficult it was/is to get tickets. There are only so many available. Each ticket is for a specified date and time. The tickets are released on a certain date each month for the following month. Tickets are not sold at the door. You have to log onto their website and purchase the tickets super fast. They sell out each month in as fast as ten minutes!

I’d pester my husband about it here and there, but the timing was always wrong and there wouldn’t be any tickets available. Then, a couple weeks ago, he popped his head into the living room while I was watching tv and casually mentioned “I got tickets for Ghibli Museum. I put it in the calendar.” Then he left, not waiting for me to jump off the couch screaming in excitement and give him a big kiss.

Knowing it was 12 km (7.5 miles) away from our house (located in Inokashira Park), we’ve been riding our bikes a lot to make sure we could make it on our own two wheels versus taking public transportation. Our son was up for the challenge as well. Luckily, the weather cooperated and getting there by bikes was much easier than any of us expected.

By the time we arrived, I thought our son would be a bit worn out, but he was jumping up and down saying over and over “I’m so excited!” Our tickets were for 2pm, and there was a lot of anticipation on all of our parts to get inside and see everything. There was a short line, as people had their temperatures taken and were kindly instructed to use hand sanitizer before entering the building.

Guests are not allowed to use cellphones or take any photos inside the museum. Although disappointing, I really do feel I was able to enjoy the museum even more without the distraction of getting good photos.

A stained glass window depicting Laputa.  I took this from outside the museum.

Seeing Totoro just outside the entrance.

We started in "The Beginning of Movement" room, where we saw examples of stop animation and layering cells to give movies depth. Then we explored the replicas of the studio offices (called "Where a Film is Born"). We also reserved a time slot for our son to climb on the life-sized cat bus (from My Neighbor Totoro). Since it was a beautiful day, we were able to climb the stairs to the rooftop garden to see a statue of a robot from my husband’s favorite Ghibli movie, Laputa or Castle in the Sky. They allow photos up there because it is outside.

We stopped by the gift shop and then went to see the animated short that is only viewable at the museum. These movies change monthly. The one we saw was about a hiker who used apples to thank the spirits for guiding her on a safe journey. It was really cute. All three of us enjoyed it a lot.

When it was time to go, we felt satiated. The museum is not especially foreigner friendly. They don’t have any English (or other language) descriptions or information beyond the map. (You can buy a book in the giftshop that details everything in the museum in English.) But it didn’t matter. Studio Ghibli makes people feel good and just being there and seeing their displays made me happy.

I'm so glad we were finally able to take our son. It is a beautiful museum featuring characters close to our heart. Although it isn't really interactive, it is still a magical experience for everyone who goes.

Further and further we go

Several weeks ago, as we returned from a quick trip to Ikebukuro to pick up some ballet tights for our son, my bike started shaking and was increasingly hard to steer. After stopping to investigate, we realized several of the spokes on my rear wheel had broken resulting in an unbalanced wheel. I tried to limp back, but lost my nerve. With my son on the back, it was too intimidating to be so off kilter. So, my husband and I switched bikes and he rode our son back the rest of the way.

The next day we took my bike in to get the wheel repaired. A couple hours and around $80 later, my bike was back in working order. When we were wrapping everything up, the man who fixed the bike commented to my husband, “she doesn’t ride with him on the back anymore, does she?” referring to our son. He continued without either of us admitting to it. “If so, that’s why the wheel had to be fixed. He’s too big and should be riding his own bike.”

We knew this, of course. He’s getting to be too big to ride on the back of my bike. Since getting a new bike for his birthday, he generally rides his own. But, for long rides, like to Ikebukuro, I’ve still had him ride on the back of mine. The issue isn’t actually the riding. It is the mounting and dismounting. When a child climbs into a child seat on a bike, they tend to pull the bike hard and then put their weight on it, damaging the rear wheel. Bikes are built for even pressure.

Since having my bike repaired, we’ve been going on longer and longer bike rides on the weekends. We are working to build up his stamina. Of course, we haven’t really found an end to his boundless seven-year-old energy, but we prefer to build versus just going somewhere and getting stuck with a melting down child.

As usual, we tend to have destinations. Ride 3 km to a new lunch place or 5 km to a specific store and back. This past weekend, we had him ride 6.8 km (each way) for kakigori, or shaved ice. If there is sugar involved, this kid would ride 100 km! My husband, the dutiful researcher and captain of our weekend adventures, found a tea shop that freezes tea and makes shaved ice with it. As soon as he described it, I was eager to go.

The small shop, called Ooyamaen (oh-yah-ma-en) only has three flavors to choose from - green tea, strawberry (they freeze the berries in blocks of ice, like we do at home), and hojicha (roasted green tea). Since there are three of us, we ordered one of each. 

 

For sweetness, each pile of frozen treat was lightly graced with sweetened condensed milk. It was served with a small amount of syrup that was recommended to be poured on when half the mountain was devoured.

All three kakigori were light and had just the right amount of sweetness. They were very reminiscent of many Japanese sweets I’ve had over the years - meant to be eaten slowly and savored. I loved it, but it might not be considered a dessert to many westerners.

Once the weekend was over, the weather changed from a lovely warm temperate range to cool. It now feels officially like fall, including rain as a typhoon passes by us. While I’m overjoyed to be wearing a sweatshirt today, I’m also grateful we had one last summer treat to celebrate the autumn equinox and the official transition into one of my favorite seasons of the year. While we might not be riding far distances for frozen treats anymore, we’ll still be riding near and far exploring this crazy country and seeing what there is to see.

Coping from a distance

Whenever there is troublesome news from back home, it is a difficult pill to swallow. Whether the challenge is a loved one trying to cope with parenting, political angst, natural disasters, or scary news from the doctor, I am struck with feeling helpless.

These feelings are amplified with the realities of Covid. While I might feel the urge to rush back to the US to help my friends and family in their time of need or stress, I can’t do that right now. It is not as easy as just hopping on a plane and heading over. Now we have tightened border security and quarantines to maneuver. Japan has said that they are now letting permanent residents back into the country, after 6 months of only letting citizens back unless the resident had special permission, but I am still hesitant to trust this.  I know people, who know people, who got separated at immigration in the airport from their families because not everyone was a citizen.  The citizens were allowed to enter, but the residents were not.  

Not being able to be there physically brings a lot of guilt. I know my family and friends understand, but that doesn’t ease the burden of not being there.

While I may not be a doctor that can mend a patient, I can bring dinner and try to take some of the daily burdens off the shoulders of my loved ones as they go through this or that. Being there for people while living abroad means providing a listening ear, but not a shoulder to cry on. If people aren’t ready to talk, that can be hard.

On the flip side, I am guilty of holding a lot back because I understand that I’m not the only one going through this quandary. I don’t want to share my heartache across an ocean. But there it is, eating away at my resolve. I sometimes cry or overreact to the weirdest things simply because I don’t want to be completely transparent about what is really going on.

Recently, my dad was diagnosed with a terminal illness that will fully reveal itself within the next 2 to 5 years. I want nothing more than to jump on a plane and spend some time with him as well as help my stepmom out while she tries to figure out which way is up in the whirlwind of chaos they are currently traversing. As I try to wrap my mind around it, I pretend everything is fine all day, then fret about it all night and get very little sleep. I just want to scream “what should I do?” If I was in the US, we could all scream it together. But I’m here, not there.

These feelings are something that I had not thought about when considering moving here.  Of course, if we always thought of the worst, many of us would be paralyzed, never willing to go and explore purely out of fear.  And, frankly, I don't want to live my life in fear.  I love trying new things and exploring new places.  And none of us could have predicted a pandemic that would stop the world in its tracks.  

I am lucky in the fact that I live in a time of video-calling, where I can connect with friends and family visually, as well as auditorily.  It isn't the same thing as being able to hug them, hold them, and cook them food, but it is better than letter writing (of which I am a huge fan).  

As I try to cope with the immense emotions I am feeling these days, I am extremely grateful to the shrines and temples that I go to for peaceful reflection.  I have started walking with my husband several mornings a week to our local shrine, both for a bit of exercise and as a way to clear my head.  With a four day weekend upon us (recognizing 2 national holidays - Respect for the Aged Day and Autumn Equinox), I hope to bike to some shrines and temples.  It is not the same as feeling the warm embrace of a loved one, but it is helpful.

Dance baby dance

My son is loving his ballet class. He finds joy in dancing and working as a team. He calls all the girls he dances with his "princesses" and looks forward to helping them and dancing together.

He's had one pain point regarding ballet. He was scheduled to have his first recital back in April, but it was cancelled due to Covid. My son loves to perform. So, not being able to show off his dance skills in front of an audience has been missed.

It took some time, but they eventually rescheduled the recital. After months of waiting, it was time to finally show off his skills. The ballet school rented a theater in downtown Nerima. The costume rentals were ordered. The kids were well rehearsed and ready to go. We just needed to get our son to the final rehearsal and performance.

As the day neared, we realized that the weather was not going to cooperate. It was forecast to rain during the commute times. Part of not owning a car is knowing that sometimes you must get from point a to point b in less than ideal conditions. Typically, we don't mind riding our bikes in the rain. However, when you are transporting costumes and so forth, rain is not your friend. Add to that the knowledge that rain in Tokyo in September is never a sprinkle. The rain comes fast, furious, and heavy this time of year.

After a bit of humming and hawing, we decided that we were ready to take the train. It would be a short commute of only 3 stations. We have not been on any trains since March! That is 6 months! As a car-free family - that is huge! It was a bit nerve-wracking, but we were up for the challenge.

When the morning of the rehearsal arrived, we gathered everything up and headed to the train. Luckily, we needed to go to the performance hall shortly before lunch. It is lucky because trains are much less crowded between 10 and 2, especially compared to the morning or evening rushes. While the train was not crowded whatsoever, I did notice people were keeping their distance by leaving seats between groups of people. I have heard that this is not the case for crowded commute trains, but when we were on the train people were properly socially distanced.

I also notice right away that the train was loud. Reminiscent of my dad's favorite "2-55 air conditioning" (two windows rolled down going 55 miles per hour down the freeway), all the windows were open creating a deafening background buzz. Since the Oedo Line is underground, it is really, really noisy. Luckily, we didn't have to suffer for long.

Our son went through his rehearsal while we grabbed a cup of tea at a nearby café. Then we headed back home on the train, once again.

The next day, we decided to take a taxi to the performance. Grateful my son has transitioned to a booster seat, the trip to the performing arts center was super easy. As we rode through a heavy rain, we were grateful for the option of not even having to walk to the train station carrying everything.

The ballet recital was fantastic. The kids had a great time dancing in front of an audience. I could see the pride on my son's face from our seats 8 rows back, especially as he held out his arm to guide his princesses around and jump with the gracefulness of a seven year old.

When I asked him later to define his first ballet performance he declared it was "fun" and he couldn't wait for the next one.