The Lamentable, Irrepressible, and Regrettable Effects of Supersize Me

On May 7, 2007, the Wall Street Journal published an article titled "Developing Nation: Japanese Clothiers Update Their Lines," which regrettably had nothing to do with a new, fantastic line from the likes of Yamamoto, Kawakubo, Kenzo, Watanabe, Mori, and Miyake (read the article HERE; but rather, it had all to do with the expanding girth of the female Japanese population.

Japanese used to subsist on a vegetable-and-fish diet, but in recent times this has changed with the advent of the less-than-healthy American import such as: Krispy Kreme (in Shinjuku), Cold Stone Creamery (in Roppongi), and now the inevitable MacDonald's MegaMac that featured not two, not three, but FOUR beef patties in a three-bun sandwich (read the article HERE).

Some tends to want to put the blame on the American side for exporting such unhealthy and irresponsible food like those mentioned above, but there has to be a demand in Japan that those things are actually here. The almost two-hour wait at Krispy Kreme (six months since its opening) and the line at Cold Stone Creamery (more than a year after it opened its counter) is a testament to this. Part of the reasons may be the "American-ness" or the foreign aspect of it combined with the novelty of the item that appealed to the masses in major cities like Tokyo and Hong Kong.

Not wanting to be left in the dust, local food producers competed with their foreign brethren to attract the appetite of the masses; the release of Dekao (Huge King) and Super Cup instant noodles are but two examples of this. According to the Mainichi article, "One product even contains a staggering 1,100 calories, almost half the daily recommended 2,500-calorie intake of the average Japanese male." I noticed this a couple of years ago when I encountered a bigger package of spicy Korean noodles sold here in Japan (and in California): it used to be that these "ramen" or noodles packages were relatively small and would be just enough for one quick meal; but this particular spicy Korean noodle package was almost twice the size of their predecessors. Freshness Burger, a Japanese burger chain, came up with Classic Double-Double Burger; meanwhile, American-import Wendy's answer was the Big Triple.

I suppose one has to wait to see when the line will diminish, but for now, supersizing and girth-expanding diet are here to stay. Guess who is coming back this month to Japan after folding its tent for being expensive in their former foray into the Japanese food market? None other than the originator of the Whoppers: Burger King. The big department stores that used to relegate the "big sizes" to one corner can now safely "expand" their collection.

Hakone, Here I Am!

Tenzan, Hakone, originally uploaded by bloompy.

Once upon a time I had a student, an award-winning surfer from Hawaii, who with his girlfriend went to Japan during one winter. He related a story to me when they went up to Hakone, sitting in an outdoor hot springs, enjoying the hot mineral soak when suddenly the snow started to fall down. He thought it was the most beautiful thing he had ever encountered. As he lived most of his life in the ever-sunny Hawaii and then spent four years in the mild-weathered California, he never chanced upon a real winter with snow. He was truly mesmerized by the sight of falling snow.

Since my frequent visits to Japan few years ago, which was followed by my recent transplant to Tokyo, I have often wanted to go up to Hakone to have the same experience my student had the fortune to have. I never realized that wish until a friend from Long Beach came to visit. I used this opportunity to ask a Japanese friend of mine -Kazu- if he would mind showing us the way, and, to my delight, he agreed. Kazu, who did not even know my Long Beach friend, treated us by buying the train tickets to Hakone and giving us two folders of towel set.

We took the Odakyu "Romance Car" at 11 o'clock from Shinjuku-eki (eki=station) with this non-stop train, passing Odawara and delivering us to Hakone-yumoto station. The trip took about 90 minutes. There are other times to take similar train, but this one is a limited express and had no transfer, making it not only a convenience but also very popular, especially during the weekend. Outside, the weather was grey, and rain had been falling since morning. I was hoping that up in the mountains this would translate into a snowfall.

Upon arrival at the Hakone-yumoto-eki, Kazu asked us if we should walk or ride a cab to the hot springs where he wanted to take us. He informed us that it would probably take about 20 minutes to hike up there. Because of the weather, we decided it best to take the taxi, and so we did. Along the way, I looked to my Long Beach friend and said that such path could not have been done in 20 minutes (and this comment came from me, who walked the fastest among friends)! Probably at least 45 minutes will be needed to walk in a comfortable pace. The track goes up and up, and that can slow down those who are not used to such an incline path.

Tenzan (天山) was the day-resort to which Kazu had taken us. Right after we were dropped off by the taxicab, we went to a small depot that housed two ticket machines. Each adult paid ¥1200 (roughly $12) while children would pay slightly less. From there, we followed the stairs up to the lobby area, entering the building of the hot springs proper. As usual, shoes off and into the lockers; then, tickets were presented, and we headed down toward the men's locker area. The baths are divided by gender. There are others mixed-gender hot springs in Hakone, but this one is separated.

After shedding our clothes, we went to scrub our bodies. We just followed our friend without a word, but when we dipped into the first pool, AWMYGAWD! It was so hot that I thought I saw my entire skin left me in that pool alone. It felt scalding hot, and my Long Beach friend and I wondered if this was the mildest one; to our relief, this was not the case. I guess the first pool was designed to kill any germs before we went to dip in the other ones. There were a total of 6 dips: 3 under the roof, 3 al-fresco (including two cascading pools on a higher ground) plus one freakingly freezing cold pool. There was also a sauna that I thought must have been Japanese style: very low ceiling, with people sitting Buddha style on a wooden platform (there were a total of 10 platforms). Some people rubbed salt on themselves before entering the sauna.

My friend and I were quite happy with the hot springs, thanks to Kazu. We changed location every 10 minutes or so, with intermittent visits to the sauna and sometimes just sitting on the bench with nothing on but a tiny towel to express our humility. I believe that going to the hot springs during winter is best for the very reason of juxtaposition between the two temperatures. I have yet to find out what happens here during the summer weather, if at all this area gets warm enough to close the gap between the temperatures.

After two hours of soaking, we went out and got dressed, lying for 15 minutes or so in the tatami-matted common area, which had a glass door that opened to a balcony (the accompanying picture was taken from this area, looking at the outside; Kazu was taking his cigarette break outside). The long roof over a walkway led one to the different restaurants available on that complex. We opted for the shabu-shabu, which was a great choice because of the cold weather outside and the hot shabu-shabu inside. We were soooo relaxed that my friend and I were reluctant in returning back to the bath; you know, just like skiing in the morning, then having lunch mid-day, and at least for me (with the warmth of the restaurant that sometimes was located mid-high up the mountain) I was reluctant to put on my skiing boots back and go out to ski again. Alas, we were mistaken; the second round of soak turned out to be much better than the first. Maybe it was because we were even more relaxed, with our tummy full and brain half-dead, the soak took the last of our energy and we became extremely comfortable; quite a relieving feeling.

Thus, it was with some regret that we had to remove ourselves from this heaven of a place ( 天山 literally means Heaven/Sky Mountain), but for me, there was always a promise for a return soon. I am hoping to make another sojourn before the cold weather disappears altogether.

Xin Tian Di and the French Concession

The Tranquil Sinan Lu in the Shanghai French Concession, originally uploaded by bloompy.

Xin Tian Di (the New Heaven and Earth) is located at the periphery of the French Concession. In the olden days, Shanghai is divided into different districts as a result of the Westerners trying to carve out a part of the city for their own fellow compatriots. Thus, Shanghai has the British Concession, the American Concession (these two later became the International Settlement), and the French Concession.

When I arrived at Xin Tian Di, I saw immediately the restaurant that my friend had recommended, Xin Ji Shi. I thought of going in but decided to walk around and take pictures first. The area retained and renovated the beautiful old-brick shikumen-style buildings (stone gatehouses). The complex, opened in 2001, is buzzing at night with the young crowd converging for eats and drinks and a little shopping. Instead of neon-advertising lights, the area employs small flags to announce the names of the businesses.

It was fortunate that I decided to walk around first, because then I bumped into T8, a restaurant that had been widely praised by critics and included in the Conde Nast top 50 restaurants in the world. My friend had also mentioned this restaurant to me, although he himself had never been. I will write a review of this restaurant in my yet-to-be created site, but for now, let it be known that this restaurant with a cuisine of Mediterranean and Asian fusion is worth going. The "M on the Bund" may have a balcony with a nice view of the Huang Pu River, but the food pales in comparison to T8. Stephen Wright, the executive chef here, is very friendly and approachable. The open kitchen -a square area where he and his staff performed their daily and nightly culinary tasks, protrudes into the dining room. From here he can survey the entire ground floor.

After this very satisfying lunch, I went to take a very long stroll into the French Concession, a walk that lasted for about 4 hours. I just followed the recommended stroll by the guidebook but occasionally strayed and went into the alleys and back ways, which always provided great opportunities for viewing the old "shikumen" style architecture. Of the 111 pictures shot today, some were of adults sitting, reading, working, socializing, and children playing. Yes, 111 pictures today and about 147 yesterday: ah, the joy of digital camera. You can just take as many with no worries about the developing cost. Even if you make a mistake, you can just take another one and delete the undesired ones later.

There was not much of a landmark in today's walk, except for the former house of Sun Yat Sen and Zhou En Lai on Sinan Lu; but the neighborhood alone was remarkable. I was surprised to find how clean Shanghai was: no trash lying around. (It was etched rather deep in my mind that most, if not all, Chinatowns in the western world and in Indonesia were always messy and littered with trash.) Just like the ones I found in the Bund area, the sidewalks and some of the buildings seemed very grimy, polluted, and could benefit from extreme scrubbing; but otherwise, the area was devoid of littered trash. Even when there was a construction (major and minor), the debris and trash were kept within its respective compound. Another friend did tell me that he had walked a little bit away from the city center, and that was where he found the run-down neighborhood with trash and puddles everywhere. There is a huge gap between wealth and poverty in the city.

Today I also came in contact with a lot of vehicular traffic; the fume proved too much at one point that I had to escape to a nearby garden, which happened to be the tranquil Ruijin Guesthouse, a sprawling compound with several buildings that are currently used for hotel rooms. I kept telling myself that I had to wash my face after I returned to my hotel. I must have looked like that grimy sidewalk by the end of the day; I need an extreme scrubbing as well, I suppose.

How Blue is My Pool?

Goodness, I have been rendered speechless in the first week of swimming in a Japanese public pool. First, the coordinates: the main swimming pool, measuring 50m X 20m, is located in Sendagaya, adjacent to the 1964 Tokyo Olympic Game Stadium. It is called the Tokyo Metropolitan Gymnasium Indoor Pool. Sendagaya is an area next to Shinjuku, the better-known area of contemporary Tokyo. A second pool is located in a level below and adjacent to the main one, and it is only half as big, 25m x 13m. Opening hours are from 9am to 9pm, all year round; this being an indoor pool, the weather outside has no bearing. The Sendagaya swimming pool does close one or two days a month. Usually one can see this in a schedule posted in the foyer or lobby area.

Two identical ticket vending machines are located outside of the building, few feet away from the entrance. There are several options: adult single (¥600), junior high student or younger (¥260), an adult with a child, and a "debit" card. You are on your honor as far as which ticket you get. This being Tokyo, it costs a whopping ¥600 for a one-time entry for an adult. In Japan, buying a card (instead of individual passes) does not necessarily entitle anyone to a discount. The highest-priced card in this vending machine, for example, cost ¥5000. I inquired to the staff if that might mean the admission price became ¥500, which would then allow me ten entries for the price of that card. She replied that with such card, I have to add a supplement of ¥400 which would bring the total to ¥5400 and thus would allow me 9 entries (which means no discount at all.) I found that very curious, indeed.

The card issued is like a business card with a magnetic stripe on the back. You put the card into a slot at the turnstile, and pick up the card when you pass through. There are two lockers (divided by gender, naturally), each with its own turnstiles and card readers. When you enter the locker area, you are greeted with a sign that politely asks you to remove your shoes. This being Japan, a plastic bag is offered for your convenience (to contain the shoes so as not to soil you and/or the locker.) One would need to put a ¥100 coin in the locker slot in order to close the door and retrieve the key. Later, when you open the locker with the key, the ¥100 will fall out into the bottom slot, where you can retrieve the coin.

There are signs everywhere, as well as a brochure for first-timers, that spell out certain rules like a swim cap must be worn at all times during swimming, and that nobody should use shampoo, conditioner, and/or soap to cleanse themselves after the swim. The reason is that the water is being recycled and re-used within the facility. Another rule was to have no jewelry whatsoever during training. I took of my earrings, but refused to take off my navel ring. As a result, I had to sign a waiver, which was then kept in the record book. If any guard ever stopped me from entering, I could just refer him or her to the record book.

There are eight lanes with a gradation of speed assigned to them: the outer two lanes are for the slowest speed swimmers, and the innermost two lanes are dedicated to those who try to catch up with Michael Phelps. At any time of the day, the pool seems always teeming with people, mostly young men and older women (I have only observed the main pool, not the second pool.) Most of the men seem to be high-scholars, with occasional grade school boys and old men. Most of the women seem to be in their 40's-50's, and almost always they appear to be friends who have come together and use swimming as a healthy social outlet.

The first time I dipped into the pool, the water felt very nice. The temperature was just right. I was in awe once I submerged myself completely: the visibility was so good that I could actually see the wall and other swimmers standing at the other end of the pool, about 50 meters away! I have swum my entire time in the States, both in public and private pools, and mostly indoor ones. Those pools are never of this size but the water temperature is usually poorly regulated and the visibility is very bad. Even after a cleaning, I would never be able to see the other end of the pool.

When I started swimming, it was a joy to turn my head left and right just to see the other gliding bodies racing at different speed. Because of the high turnout in this pool, circle swimming is mandatory (more rules: observe your speed and choose the correct speed lane, no passing, always stay on the right of the lane.) In the U.S., it is not uncommon to find a maximum of three swimmers in a lane during peak time, but here, there is no maximum number. Sometimes I see up to nine people swimming in the same lane.

The only flaw in this system is that because you are not allowed to pass, once you reach the wall, if the one preceding you is not going yet and s/he would not let you pass, then you are stuck with waiting. In my case, when I want to do an aerobic (as opposed to anaerobic) exercise, I want to keep going from lap to lap with no stopping in between. Usually when I find myself having to pause between each lap, I start to look around for a different lane. Sometimes it is all right to go to the slower lane with lesser number of people, but you just distance yourself so that you will not swim too fast and start slowing down behind somebody else.

The admission price is rather high. You can get a one-month gym pass with a pool at Tipness, for example, for about ¥3000/month, and you would have plenty opportunity to swim and to exercise at the gym. But, I have yet to explore that option. So far, I have been to the same pool for two weeks now, and each time, I still marvel at how blue and how clear the water is. I also enjoy seeing people young and old being very active in doing physical exercises. I have yet to arrive to an empty pool. Perhaps an early arrival or a late visit will present me that opportunity; until then, I will distract myself with the clear visibility of this cool pool.

Sendagaya Swimming Pool
at the Tokyo Metropolitan Gymnasium
1-17-1 Sendagaya
Tokyo
Tel: +81 (03) 5474-2111
¥600 adult
¥260 for children aged 3 yrs-old until junior high school

Bicycle Happy

Tokyo is not exactly Beijing, where countless number of cyclists could be found wandering around town during rush hours. Nor is Tokyo like San Francisco, where on certain Fridays, hundreds of cyclists take over the downtown area in hope of raising consciousness in a city that could certainly afford to cycle more; but I do remember that once my city exploring left the confine of Shinjuku and into the other neighborhoods, I started seeing something I really enjoyed: mothers taking their children in a bike built for two; a girl giving his boyfriend a ride; a very old but sturdy lady (I am talking 70-ish) maneuvering her bike in a crowded alley.

At first I found it annoying that the cyclists (not "bikers" as bike here means motorbike) rode through the sidewalk. In some areas in Tokyo, the sidewalks are not exactly like those at Champs-Elysées, Paris. You can indeed find a broad sidewalk in the "Champs-Elysées of Tokyo," a.k.a. the Omotesandō-dōri, but when you get to smaller streets, the sidewalk could only accommodate two people walking side by side. That annoyance quickly dissipated as I realized that the city had not dedicated a lane for cyclists on the roads: only crosswalks have dedicated lanes for cyclists, but of course the pedestrians walked on those lanes as well. I still wish that any local government would look at Münster (Germany) to see what a dedicated bicycle lane should look like: In that small town, roads are for motor vehicles, sidewalks are for pedestrians, and in between them, cyclists have their own lane, complete with concrete pylons separating and protecting them from the autos. When there are no dedicated lanes, then it is understood that the cyclists could share the sidewalk, and they know which side to cycle so as not to hit any pedestrians.

When I finally moved to Tokyo in the winter of 2004 (February), I yearned for a bicycle. Going to Tokyu Hands or any bicycle shop is always a lot of fun because of the many varieties of available models. They have many bikes that could be folded in two, put in a shoulder bag (albeit a huge and heavy shoulder bag) to go; or those with a tiny little motor that could help you when facing an incline (the motor is operated with the help of a rechargeable battery.) The tires come in different sizes (and numbers! There is even a unicycle available for purchase!), from the tiniest (toy-like) to the biggest. I thought the smaller tires are for the kiddy bikes, but I have seen a lot of people in their 20s using these bicycles with small tires.

I was reminded of those parents who placed their kids in the seats behind them, and suddenly I was looking for a bicycle that could accommodate my own kids, the two dachshunds, Ptolemy and Galla. Once I saw a green bike with a huge, oversized basket and not at all proportional. The price was a whopping ¥15,000.00, I think. When I got close, I realized that they had called this bicycle "The Baker's Bicycle," and that basket was supposed to carry all the fresh-from-the-oven baguettes. The bicycle itself was a simple and a straightforward old-style bicycle.

Three months later, after seeing many different bicycles, at Tokyu Hands they displayed a bicycle with a dog (stuffed animal) in the basket in front of the bicycle. It turned out that this bicycle was made to carry a pet' it came with a very nice bag that fit into the basket. Immediately I had the staff take it down for me to inspect, but no transaction took place that day. There was some doubt with regard to the size of the basket, etc. The second time we came to inspect it, still nothing. Finally on our third visit, last night, we brought both of the dogs and fit them into the baskets (an extra basket had to be placed in the back if I wanted both of them to come along.) They fit perfectly, and so the bicycle had a new owner. The staff told me that all bicycles had to be registered with the police department, and the license would be valid for ten years. Fortunately, the department store took care of the registration, and it took a mere hour, a time that we passed on by having dinner in the same building.

On the second inspection of the bicycle the week before, we were informed that if we wanted this shipped, it would take weeks before it arrived; the packing and handling would take a long time. So, on the third visit, I braced myself and decided early on to ride the new bike with the dogs in it from the Shinjuku Tokyu Hands all the way home, which was rather far. Considering that this was my first bicycle ride in close to 20 years, and riding in Tokyo was not exactly the safest means in the world of cycling, I was rather daring. My partner decided to walk along with me, and he ended up walking one of the dogs while the other one rode with me in the doggy basket in front. The ride was brutal as it happened to be a hot and a humid evening, but the compliments from the passing crowd, upon seeing a dog in the basket, injected a sense of (delusional) parental pride; that, indeed, felt like a breeze to me.