Where To Wander Next

While getting some final documents together for clients heading to Japan this month, I couldn’t help but take a walk down memory lane.  When I went to Japan several years ago, I was floored by how different it was. Everything was different! First off, unlike Americans, the Japanese are quite formal with each other so conversations take a lot longer than you’re used to. There is a deferrence toward others so everyone is constantly trying to show respect and win the battle of the last bow. For someone who grew up on the East Coast of the US where we make it an art of interrupting each other, watching two Japanese converse is a marvelous event.

One thing is for sure, the Japanese have perfected the art of perfection. Tiny plants trimmed by tweezers, meals arranged like still-life paintings, trains arriving to the second. Everything is perfected to a mindboggling degree. And, there is no better way to experience this than by going to a department store and heading to the basement where all the food is. Row after row of perfect treats. It will blow your mind. I saw fake-looking but very real apples, polished to a shine and set in arrow-straight rows nestled in individually crocheted protective covers. There are rows and rows of delicate desserts the size of your thumb decorated with intricate calligraphy or origami figurines. There are a dizzying array of gorgeous bento boxes filled with plump dumplings and tempura. When finally you decide on something and go to buy it, it is wrapped in beautiful paper like a gift for royalty.  

Speaking of perfect, you may have heard of the famous fluffy pancakes in Japan. I hadn’t planned on getting pancakes but after a long, arduous hike in Kamakura, I was on my last steps and thought, I need carbs, I’m starving, wait do I see those famous Pancakes? So, we went into the restaurant that serves nothing but pancakes, and now here they come, I could almost hear a band playing, this parade of deliciousness that, honestly, I’m still dreaming about. A stack of 6, each one an inch thick, perfectly warm, super fluffy, piled high in a spectacular tower that defied gravity and topped with an enormous pile of whip cream. Like all rabid junkies, we had to get another fix and were soon including pancake stops in each new city we visited. Trust me, you must try a pancake restaurant when in Japan. 

Another unconventionally wild place is the stationary store. The Japanese love paper more than anything, even the presents they wrap them in. Their paper is hand-made, hand-painted, hand-dyed, hand-gilded and so on! It is so pretty, I bought sheets of it to frame as art. 

But, more important than paper is the Japanese yearly planners piled high around the stationary store. I love a good yearly planner and was searching for one called the Hobonichi, a well-known planner with cult-like devotees who endlessly question on Reddit their pen and layout choices as not being up to high enough standards to grace their Hobonichi’s pages. There must be a law that says a Japanese citizen must buy one if not two planners a year. They are considered “life books” to be used as a daily opportunity to help you be your best self. For example, they have daily little tips for life. But these are not the sappy ones you will find in America like “Create your own sunshine today” but sage advice like  “Even if you’re kidnapped, blindfolded and taken somewhere by plane, you can make a rough estimate of where you are if you look at the insects that are there.”  There is a planner waiting for you in Japan. It will change your life!

Lastly, before you depart Japan, you must also go knife shopping. As a foodie and home cook, I love nothing more than a great knife and in Japan, there are next level knife stores with custom, handmade knives for every purpose. It’s not simple picking out a knife. Read on.

Like everything in Japan, you wonder if you are doing it right and feeling like you are doing it wrong. Buying a knife is a prime example. First, I had to take a number and wait for the English-speaking clerk who soon was sizing my palm. He asked what the task was I wished to accomplish, then began performing balance tests, grip tests, cutting tests, saying no, no, no to all the while nodding and smiling. Finally, after getting approved for a purchase, they told me to write my name on a piece of paper so they could engrave the knife. I wrote out my childhood nickname (Lili) thinking it would be easier to carve. Suddenly several clerks were being called over to discuss my piece of paper with a couple of them looking quite stricken. After much discussion, my knife is engraved. Well, my name has (3) Ls in it and it turns out that there is no L in the Japanese language! Back home, I showed my knife to my Japanese tennis partner. She laughed and said, “It says Riri!” Debacle aside, this, for some reason, made me love my knife and the country of Japan, its people and its quirky culture even more. 

Safe Spring Travels,

Lillian