As always, meandering musings of nothing in particular, but pictures make it bearable…

Today (tomorrow for you past-dwellers) is ‘Tanabata,’ the ‘Star Festival.’ To celebrate we wrote wishes onto slips of paper and tied them to trees temporarily imported into our building’s lobby. We wished for success in Japan, and for good luck to Matthew (in his last year of college) and Rob (in his new job in Atlanta).

Tokyo, having more Michelin Star restaurants than any other city, offers a great variety of ethnic foods. Last week alone we had Italian and Indian, along with whatever’s in the refrigerator. The Indian was terrific (not that I’d know), with nan bread as big as a mainsail. Dipped in tikka masala and one other curry suggested by out gracious host, Muktar, it was delicious. Accompanied by gin and tonic, even better.

The Italian food was also very good. My traditional linguini (or spaghetti) with clams had a Japanese twist. Dehydrated salmon roe (eggs) were sprinkled on top. A bit ‘fishier’ than the norm, but not at all disagreeable. The restaurant has an interesting method for preparing risotto. After it’s cooked and ready to serve, it’s placed into a giant, hollowed-out half-wheel of Parmesan cheese and stirred so the cheese imparts that extra bit of flavor into the dish. I will have to order it next time to verify that it is as tasty as it seems.

It’s the rainy season so it…rains. Shopping in Shibuya was great. It was a nice hot, sunny day until the clouds rolled in accompanied by lightning and the loudest thunder (to a California boy) I’d ever heard. Thirty minutes later and all was back to normal except a bit of flooding.

We had our first official visitor, Anne Stricherz, a friend, Notre Dame alum, and dedicated golf fanatic here from San Francisco. Even traveling in Japan won’t deter her from the chance to lower her handicap, so off to the multi-tiered driving range we went. All of the fundamentals are sound, I am pleased to report. As long as she shifts her weight fully to the left side after impact and strikes the ball on a down and through path, I see no reason why a club title would not be in her future. Either way, she loves the game, and that is enough.

The fourth this year was on the fifth for us. But the club was all decked out in red, white, and blue with plenty of BBQ and beer, Coke, etc. for all to enjoy. Not exactly sunny weather, we took seats on the outside balcony and hoped for the best. Our timing was good and we were able to finish our meal before the rain started.

Buses, along with trains and subways, are a part of everyday life. One hundred yards from our apartment is a bus stop that serves the hospital as its last stop (terminal stop doesn’t sound right). We can hop on a bus, swipe our Suica Cards, and be at Ebisu Station in five minutes. The drivers are very polite, professional, and punctual. I had a good seat on one particular ride and could see the driver’s large pocket watch hanging on the dashboard. At the exact second according to the schedule, the door closed and he was off.

Cats. When we first anticipated moving to Tokyo, Amy read about ‘Cat Cafe’s’ (and French Maid Cafe’s, but that’s another story). Last week she located one a stone’s throw away from her office at Ebisu Station. It would be our appetizer before heading to Tandoor for dinner.

People of all stripes (even hapless foreigners) pay $12 per hour to sit in a room surrounded by lots of cats and do…not much. You can pet them, play with them, shake toys at them, and even feed them. All are docile and most are welcoming of attention. Some just want to sleep and are bored of the entire process. All I can imagine is that it’s a way for locals to de-stress after a long, hard day as a salary man (or woman).

There are cats, but there is no cafe…no coffee, frappuccino,  tea, soda, or drinks of any kind. Only people petting (to be charitable) cats. The method of petting a cat in Japan is much akin to patting a dog or a bongo drum…short, fairly hard whacks in a repetitive manner. None of the ‘nice kitty’ strokes that would normally be applied in the US. These cats are apparently made of heartier stuff. It was difficult not to laugh out loud at the sight of a cat being pummeled mercilessly by a dour business man who looked like his next stop was the highest balcony without a railing he could find.

But perhaps ‘whacking the kitties’ (that doesn’t sound right) keeps him away from a premature final destination. Cat Cafe’s may be serving their purpose in society after all.