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Dove of the Desert: Rural Road Trips
In the Arizona desert just South of Tucson is the Mission San Xavier del Bac, known as the “White Dove of the Desert. This historic 18th-century Spanish Catholic mission located on the Tohono O’odham Nation reservation was built between 1783-1797. It is the oldest intact European structure in Arizona and a National Historic Landmark. Many consider it the finest example of Spanish architecture in the United States.
I am a fan from the minute we pull into the parking lot. The architecture is stunning, despite the scaffolding covering part of the exterior. There are Tohono O’odham tribal members barbecuing at the end of the lot, just a church fundraiser. I like the vibe. It reminds me that people always have more in common than we think. Our local Catholic Church fires up its grill every Sunday.
I am anxious to visit the church, but first we visit a complex of tribal gift shops and snack vendors. I love buying local and a native mosquito bite remedy seems like a useful purchase. So does fry bread. After dropping our purchases off in the truck, we finally cross the hard packed dirt to the church.
I’m not sure how it is possible, but the interior of the church is even more stunning than the exterior. People are actively engaged in worship. So I sit where I can unobtrusively look and then pray. I have to remind myself that this is a working parish that has been the tribes spiritual home for over 250 years. Mothers beg for protection for their children. A man sits beside me and quietly weeps. I am moved and pray for their unspoken needs. God hears the cries of the broken hearted.
After my moments of prayer, we leave the chapel and head to areas that hold important artifacts from the church history. There are vestments and chalices sitting next to tribal baskets. Dating from its founding in 1692.
The place strikes me as a beautiful blend of old world European elegance and native simplicity. Amazing paintings are somehow elevated by simple wood carvings with the finest craftsmanship. A mausoleum houses a glass encased wooden carving of Saint Francis Xavier. Locals and pilgrims leave tiny tokens (Milagros) as they pray and ask for miracles.
The lovely cloister walk and peaceful courtyard reminds me that this is working Franciscan monastery. The good fathers have been here since 1767. They have survived Apache raids, fires, wars, and even a change in country of residence.
Eventually, I have to tear myself away from this gem. We walk up the small hill near the church and walk the stations of the cross. I keep one eye on the dramatic vistas and one eye on the lookout for rattlesnakes. I imagine that sums up this special place properly. One eye on God and his wonders and one eye on the harsh reality of life in a hostile environment. For 350 years, the people have been faithful. Despite many hardships, beauty remains.
“Trust (lean on, rely on, and be confident) in the Lord and do good; so shall you dwell in the land and feed surely on His faithfulness, and truly you shall be fed.”
Psalm 37:3 “He wants me to help those in Zion who are filled with sorrow. I will put beautiful crowns on their heads in place of ashes. I will anoint them with olive oil to give them joy instead of sorrow. I will give them a spirit of praise in place of a spirit of sadness. They will be like oak trees that are strong and straight. The Lord himself will plant them in the land. That will show how glorious he is.”
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Shinjuku: Travel Goals Japan
Our neighborhood for the next month is about fifteen minutes (bus) or a half hour (walk) from Shinjuku Station in the direction of Nakano City. It is quiet and residential. There are a few shops hidden in the apartment blocks that front endless back streets of houses. There isn’t much traffic. Here we are much more likely to be run over by one of the many bicycles that come blurring by without warning than a car. Grannies gotta get got to their groceries and you best not step into the preferred path, because they aren’t veering or slowing down for you. It makes for interesting sidewalk travel sometimes.
Today, though, we head in the opposite direction from the station. There are few bicycles as we walk deep into the streets of Shinjuku, but the (car and foot) traffic is intense. This part of town is a strange mix of offices, restaurants and entertainment complexes. Godzilla towers over buildings in one section. Further along King Kong hangs from the side of a bill board. He is sporting red, white, and blue boxing shorts. I guess he has a Rocky complex. Quirky is not an adequate description.
We visit a Don Quixote (one of many in Tokyo). It is hard to describe this multistory department store. Souvenirs have exploded into the aisles among health care products. There is luggage, alcohol, and lots of unidentifiable objects. It is has a circus like atmosphere as locals shop like there is a fire sale at a “Five Below” and tourists wander around with their mouths open trying to figure out what is in that container that looks like a monkey holding a sponge. Or why cookies are nestled between single use colored contact lenses with over enlarged tinted iris enhancers. Seven stories of crazy finds later, we are exhausted and ready to leave the chaos.
We stop for coffee and pastries at an outdoor cafe and watch the world bustle by. After a rest, we walk on to a small corner of the world called the Golden Gia. This is where people flock to experience an old Tokyo vibe. The streets are so narrow they hardly qualify as an alley. The buildings are all attached to one another with electric haphazardly strung. The establishments are mostly bars. Each has only room for a few people to enter at a time. Some charge a fee for the privilege. But it is afternoon and the crowds have not yet descended. I wouldn’t want to be here in the drunken rush. We look in open doorways and walk on.
Our route back to the bus depot takes us through the former red light district. Today, only billboards of beautiful young men and women hint at strip clubs and gay bars. The Japanese are more subtle. If you didn’t know where you were, you may not even pick up on the signals. Wholesome looking college age individuals hand out advertisements and invite you upstairs for a “show.”
Further along, the street once again turns into a haven for business professionals who use the trains. There are shops that sell suits, electronics hubs, copy shops, technology support, briefcases, shoes and leather goods. There are quick food stops for ramen, soba, and udon. And it seems there is a karaoke complex on every corner. Nothing signals the end of a long workday like a sing along with your closest friends.
The many faces of Shinjuku reveal themselves as we walk our way across its many streets. Sometimes the best way to experience a place is just to walk.
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Casa Grande: Rural Road Trips
It is supposed to be a grand road trip to visit lesser known national parks and historic sites. Unfortunately Congress cannot agree on a budget. The ensuing government shut down has caused more than a few headaches on this trip. Sites we intend to visit may be closed and today is no exception.
We arrive at the Casa Grande ruins to find a locked gate. I get a glimpse of the ruins from afar and have to look at photos of the rest of the park on my phone. It is supposed to be a national park day. Now what?
A quick google search tells us we are not for from McFarland State Historic Park in Florence, Arizona. With no idea what we will find, we head that way. The large saguaro cacti line the highway. We pass fields of cotton. It seems longer than a dozen miles, but …..Eventually we pull into Florence, a town that time forgot.
The state park is housed in what was one of the first courthouses to be built in Arizona in the late 1880’s. The building has also been used as a hospital, welfare center and social center. In the 1970’s Senator Ernest McFarland petitioned the state to preserve the building and promised to give them his private memorabilia. They agreed and McFarland State Park was born.
We know nothing about any of the claims to fame. I have never heard of McFarland. Turns out he was a lawyer, a governor, and a U.S. Senator. He authored a small piece of legislation called the G.I. Bill. (At least I am familiar with that piece of legislation.) After his departure from politics, he pioneered television, by opening an ABC affiliate in Arizona. See…..You can learn many things in the most remote places. We come away at least a little more informed.
As interesting as our visit to Florence turned out to be, we had a lot of daylight left. I intended to hike today, so we try a few local parks. They are small with no trails. We don’t have a fishing pole or soccer ball, so that line of diversions don’t quite work out.
Across town, we find the Neon Sign Park nestled behind a strip mall. Casa Grande preserves about a dozen neon signs salvaged from old local hotels and businesses. They are retro kitsch at its best. But the park nostalgia only takes a few minutes to visit and we find ourselves again looking for something to do.
We drive downtown streets, but businesses are mostly closed. The local Walmart provides Halloween candy, just in case we get any trick or treaters at the rv later. There are retirement communities and rolled up sidewalks.
Eventually, I ask the internet to pick a local restaurant. The fast food we pass is not appealing. Through the magic of the internet, we end up at BeDillons. It is a local restaurant inside a former residential home. They have an amazing back patio surrounded by cacti. The place is busy, yet surprisingly no one is taking advantage of the patio. We do and so we have the magical garden to ourselves.
We find ourselves dining under the stars. There is good music and a great waitress. What a find! We mention how much we are enjoying ourselves to the waitress who said, “I’ll tell Dad.” She apparently has an “in” with the owner. Within a few minutes, he appears to chat. After finding out that we were former educators, he opens a large out building full of artifacts he has collected across his lifetime He proudly invites us to inspect his private collection at our leisure and trusts us with the building. We are happy to take him up on his offer.
Casa Grande has not gone as planned. That is okay. We certainly have experienced things we otherwise would never have planned. And that is what makes travel experiences memorable. It is a good day.
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The Takeshita Experience: Travel Goals Japan
Explosions of sights, smells and sounds. People lining the streets in constant motion. Shops, food, pets…. On Takeshita street, you should expect the unexpected.
Just steps from the Harajuki Station, Takeshita street is a few blocks of weird and wonderful Tokyo shopping. Perhaps this is not the place for serious shoppers. You will not find name brands or department stores. This street is for people who want to experience a specific Tokyo vibe. Takeshita is all about having a good time.
There is food. Multiple shops sell crepes filled with anything and everything you can think of from fruit to fish. You can get ice cream, tiramisu, and even spam crepes. I would stick to the sweets…. But that is just me.
Feeling thirsty? For a small fee you can visit a pet cafe and enjoy unlimited tea, coffee, and soft drinks while cuddling a pig. You can hold a meerkat or hedgehog. Traditionalists can play with dogs, ferrets or guinea pigs. Exotic animal lovers can hand feed capybaras or sidle up to a fennec fox.
Want to return to your childhood? No worries. You can visit the Sanrio store and say hello to kitty. Or, you can spend hours in capsule stores finding just the right miniature figure or gotcha. There are ninja costumes and themed shops connecting you with action heroes and anime characters.
Clothing shops are also represented. If you are into character apparel, sexy lingerie, kawaii culture outfits, platform shoes, or sports jerseys they have you covered. I even found a few well stocked vintage stores.
The streets are full of people and the energy is high. Teenagers outnumber adults by two to one. We scurry from shop to shop and try not to get separated. It is hard not to stop and stare. In a just few minutes I saw a girl dressed like little Bo peep, a man carrying a monkey, a child eating a crepe bigger than their hands could hold, and a grown man laying in a pile of pigs. Distracting does not begin to cover the sensation of Takeshita street. It is something that must be experienced.
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Tlaquepaque: Rural Road Trip Arizona
Somewhere in Sedona there is a shopping area that surprises. Tlaquepaque (tlock-ay-pick-ay) is a delightful and eclectic village of shops amid a historic looking adobe cluster of buildings. We decide to stop and check it out after hiking all day. We are not dressed for the clientele, but it is either now or never. We leave the area first thing in the morning.
There are fountains in shady courtyards and enough pumpkins to start a farmer’s market. Workers are busy preparing for Halloween or Dia de las Muertos. My husband finds a seat under the trees and happily watches the chaos while I wander shop to shop.
There are lots of art galleries. In some, the vibe is welcoming. Local artists who clearly enjoy their work and the people who visit, greet me with smiles. In others, there are whispers and suspicious looks as people with clipboards block the door and look at my jeans and dusty shoes and determine I don’t fit their profile.
But I am not easily deterred, rude salesmen are simply an interesting challenge. While I don’t intend to buy overpriced art, I may find something I can’t live without. And I am a “Show Me State” girl. I have never let pretentious behavior get in my way. A curled lip and rolling eyes only gets a smile and a “can I just walk past you to see the painting over there.” Apparently, smiling at people trying to be rude is confusing to them. It must be draining going through life judging and mentally sorting people into the worthy and unworthy.
Outside, a fiesta of sound creates a party atmosphere. I dance my way to record stores, book stores and a variety of small businesses. There is clothing, candles, jewelry, shoes, antiques, yard ornaments, cooking gadgets, pet supplies, rock shops, and even toys. I am not really in a buying mood, but that doesn’t mean I am not enjoying the multitude of possibilities.
Eventually the day winds down. I come to the end of the shops. We have hiked all day and I have wandered this place for a good deal of the early evening. It is time to go.
My verdict? Tlaquepaque’s atmosphere is special. If you find yourself in Sedona, you should make time for a stroll….even if you are not dressed for the clientele. If you see a rude woman in a black suit with a clipboard blocking the door to a shop selling framed photographs, smile and tell her I sent you.
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Red Rock Hike: Rural Road Trip Arizona
I love to hike, but I am married to a reluctant hiker. Translation: he actually likes to hike once I can get him on a trail. This may involve suggesting, asking, cajoling, and/ or answering many questions and providing hypothetical solutions. There is ritual involved with often repeated refrains.
For this trip, the suggestion…. “I really want to hike a trail while we are in Sedona at least one day.” “What day do you want to hike with me?” “Let’s take a pink jeep tour and scope out the place.” “Is today the day? Okay we can go tomorrow.”
On the last day in Sedona it is finally “the long hike day”. I have scoped out two trails in two different parks. I figure a half hour drive between them will be an incentivized rest break. Plus, I will offer lunch.
He is surprisingly agreeable and asks “How far do you want to walk?” I answer, “I’d like to see the sacred pools.” “How far is that?” “It depends which route we take.” It always helps to give options, but he is smart and on to my tricks. “Which way is shortest?” “The shortest way may not be the most scenic.” “Yeah, but it is hot.” “That is why we are going early.” “How early? I don’t like early.” “Then we can go later .” “But then it will be hot.” And so it goes.
We drive to the trailhead and the lot is full. “Now what?” “We need to drive to the park we passed a while back and park there.” “That was like a mile ago.” “It was a half mile.” “But that will add another mile to the hike.” “Yep, it will.” “So we are doing this anyway?” “Yes”. Heavy sigh. “You can drop me off and come get me later.” “I am already parked now.”
“It is hot.” “I am sorry.” “I have sweat everywhere my clothes are soaked.” “I am sorry.” “I am gonna stand here in the shade.” “Okay.” And so it goes.
But also there is laughter and hand holding and beautiful scenery. He loves me enough to come along, even if it isn’t on his must do list. And when I turn into the hiker who never met a bend in the road I didn’t want to see beyond and the miles begin to accumulate, it is okay if he decides to sit out. For me the act of hiking is the important part, not the destination. I can go a few miles on my own and then loop back. We can take some time to sit in the shade or wade in the creek. But it is important that we share the moments, even if we drive each other crazy in the process.
“It is only a few miles.” “You said that three miles ago.” “Fifteen more minutes.” “Sure, and donkeys fly.” “Are you sure you are going the right way?” “It’s what the trail app says.” “Why is everyone else headed that way?” “I hate going uphill. Are you going to wait for me?”, says he. “Slow down, I can’t go downhill that fast,” says me. “Did you bring water?” “You shouldn’t be walking in those shoes, you’re going to turn an ankle.” “What are we doing for lunch?”
The new lines keep coming. But the song is as old as time. It is the language of life long love, a familiar duet performed among the red rocks. If you have been married for decades, you likely know the lyrics. Feel free to sing along.
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Shibuya Surprises: Travel Goals Japan
This morning I get up very early and get my work done. I am still stuck in another time zone and an early riser, which is convenient when you try to work remotely from the far ends of the Earth and still have time for play.
Eventually, the number one son wakes up and tells me he wants to visit Shibuya to see the infamous Shibuya crossing and to do a little shopping. My husband and I are happy to tag along. (This is our son’s long promised college graduation trip….that he has postponed for almost a decade.) Whatever he decides is fine by us.
The bus and the trains are deceptively quiet today. We must be later than the normal rush. But as we surface near Shibuya crossing in the rain, I see thousands of people amassed and waiting to cross the road. Every direction crosses all at once at the scramble light. And it is truly a scramble. I pull my hat down tight and set off into the fray. It seems important to choose my direction and fix my sight on a landmark building or electronic billboard. I have to walk with purpose or risk getting swept up into the crowd.
I make it to the other side, but now the question is where to safely stop to find my fellow travelers that won’t cause a traffic jam or I risk losing them in the crowd. It is a good thing that my son is tall and gives off a Viking vibe. He is easy to spot. My husband is also within site. Whew!
My husband tells me he is a little disoriented. At home, he says he finds me by looking for my long dark hair. In this crowd of Japanese women with beautiful long dark hair, that distinction is not helpful. I tell him just to look for the chubby girl. He wisely does not reply.
We head indoors to escape the heavy rainfall. The first mall is entirely dedicated to the Japanese fashion trend called of Kawaii culture (cuteness). Everything is pastel colors, ruffles, lace, and exaggerated innocence combined with lingerie. I am told distinct styles include Sweet Lolita, Jirai Kei (landmine style), and Maid cosplay. I see school girl outfits, little Bo peep themes, and any variety of clothing I don’t understand as every day wear. And yet I am in a multi-story mall that sells nothing but kawaii couture ….. and I am surrounded by consumers who are spending hundreds on clothing to wear to work and school that makes them look like a cross between a French maid and a student at Hogwarts. Some things I am not meant to understand. You go girls. But this is not for me.
We visit electronics stores and upscale retail shops. In one mall we find a space that carries traditional items from each Japanese province. We even find a haute couture pop up in which a Japanese celebrity is having a photo shoot. I am not cool enough to know who he is, but the international paparazzi certainly do.
I decide that we need to find the corner where Hachiko, the loyal dog is immortalized. Hachiko went with his owner to Shibuya station every day and would return in his own to meet the train for his return. When his owner died. Hachiko would return to the station each day and wait until the last train left looking for his owner. This went on for years making him a national icon of loyalty. Today, hundreds crowd around his statue taking selfies.
Just a few blocks away, the cherry blossoms are in early full bloom. They are glorious! We take photos like the Sakura struck tourists that we are. A lovely local man takes our pictures and strikes up a conversation and we are having a great time until…..he asks where we are from. We tell him the U.S. He gives a look that someone might get if you said you had a terminal illness. He abruptly hands me back my camera, says good luck, and literally disappears. It is really sad and sobering to see how quickly the country has slipped in international public opinion.
We travel to make connections and increase understanding and yet this is our new reality. People don’t know what to do. Neither do we. My analysis is a lot like Shibuya crossing. I don’t control what gets the green lights. I can see the chaos. I feel like a small spec in the swirling motion and I just do the best I can to navigate myself correctly while being as considerate of others I can. And deep down, I know which lines I will not cross and which corners I am willing to go against the crowd to reach. And finally, I know when it is time to go home and rest.
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Verde to Tonto: Rural Road Trip
I wouldn’t call us aimless. But we have no plan other than to enjoy this beautiful weekend. The weather is perfect. Blue skies. Cool breeze. And we have a whole day ahead of us to enjoy whatever we can.
Our first stop is historic Camp Verde. It was a U.S. army outpost in the American West circa 1800’s. Conjure images of virtually any John Wayne movie and you can imagine the buildings and uniforms (interestingly, we learned that the yellow neckerchiefs were never part of the cavalry uniform….they just looked good on the big screen).
There are only a few buildings left at the historical park, but they were furnished with period decor and had a recorded narration. In the visitors center they had a great display on the Indian scouts. It is a tale of natives who helped the army and then were betrayed by men who believed the only good Indian was a dead Indian. It was an interesting stop and a cautionary tale.
After a long walk across the parade grounds to the bathroom building we find out we need a key. So we walk all the way to the visitor center to get a key so that we can walk back to the bathroom. Think about walking an entire football field twice and then turning around and doing it again and again. You get the idea. There has to be a better plan, but at least we get our exercise. Still shaking my head at the craziness and a little relieved that no one was having a bathroom emergency, we left the historical park and headed to town.
We find a few antique shops in Camp Verde but it is too beautiful to be indoors. Instead, we turn the big orange truck east toward the Tonto National Forest. There isn’t much traffic (or anything else) out here. But it is a spectacular weekend drive. The views from the road of mesas, canyons, and endless sky make the drive worthwhile.
Eventually we see signs for Tonto Natural Bridge National Forest. We turn onto the access road and hit our first traffic jam. It seems to take forever to inch our way to the fee booth. By the unexpected traffic we decide it will either be spectacular or it will be a crowded mess.
Once in the parking lot, we try to follow the map to the viewing area. We can’t see a thing, but must be standing on the natural bridge. The map is confusing and there is no signage or landmarks. We take a trail to the right and find ourselves amid boulders. I did not wear rock climbing boots. I will need to go to the car for my hiking gear if we are going to scramble.
We decide to go back up to the top of the trail and turn left. There is a trail map and signage. This is definitely more promising. And so we hike. I still haven’t changed out of my flimsy cute shoes (essentially ballet flats ……don’t judge me, the truck is a long way away). We descend into a deep canyon. Down and down we go. A mile in and I am hoping we actually find the natural bridge, because by the time we walk out of here I know the husband isn’t going to want to explore another trail. A river appears and we follow it toward the mountain.
Now we are climbing stairs. My husband is mumbling about climbing down a mountain only to go up a steep staircase. There is a footbridge over the river. As we leave the footbridge we can see what looks like a giant cave. A waterfall cascades from the opening into the river below. We also see all the people that created the traffic jams, but we haven’t seen since. Dozens of people sit in a seating area and dozens more are scrambling over rocks down deeper in the tunnel.
As it turns out, if we had taken the scramble from the first trail we would have been under the natural bridge and eventually ended up here. I have no idea how long the trail stretches across the boulders. It looks more strenuous than I am prepared for. Once we enter the opening, we can see that this is indeed a natural bridge and not a cave. It is massive and beautiful. Pictures do not show the size. I feel very, very small in its shadow.
Despite its beauty, I can only stare at rock for so long. Eventually, we make the long walk back out of the canyon. The trail is steep and rocky. My flat shoes are still a poor choice for rocks, but I am making it work. We pause to let people coming down the trail pass and to catch our breath. A couple asks us if there really is a natural bridge somewhere. We affirm they are almost there. It seems we aren’t the only ones that find the park map confusing.
We picnic in the park. A cheese sandwich and some chips never taste quite as good as they do after a hike in the woods. With peach juice dripping from my chin and fingers, I decide to solo hike through the forest along the river trail between the mountains. The bees find me and keep me company as I navigate steeps steps down into the canyon. Eventually I encounter a barrier. The trail is closed due to rock slides so I must exit the way I came in. Now I head up the hundreds of stairs. Great cardio…..at least that is what I tell myself. If it doesn’t kill me, it will make me stronger?
I am tired when I reach the truck and so we say goodbye to Tonto. It is a great stop that I really didn’t know about until today. It is the best kind of discovery.
A person we met earlier in the trip mentioned he was from Pine, AZ. He talked about the beauty of the place, the forest, the elk. I have never heard of it, yet suddenly here we are in Pine. Weird. It catches my attention. It would be hard not to. The town practically screams at us to stop. There are aliens and totem poles and ice cream and kettle corn. Small shops are jumbled in clusters under the trees.
We end our day wondering through the eclectic buildings and striking up conversations with the cast of characters who run them. It is oozing small town charm or maybe just kitsch. With a few dollars less in our pockets and a few treasures tucked in our bags, we turn the big orange truck back toward verde river. Big orange will thankfully make better time than the cowboys on horseback from my Western movie childhood. We will be back in the rv by dinner time.
And that is how you turn an aimless day into memorable….
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Animal Cafe Takes My Stress Away: Travel Goals Japan
In Japan, for about $15.00 you can spend an hour having unlimited tea, coffee, and soft drinks while cozying up to wildlife of your choice. There are puppy cafes, cat cafes, pig cafes, capybara cafes….the choices are limitless. After passing dozens of these anima cafes, the number one son and I decided we needed to see what it was all about. We opted for a multi-pet cafe.
I went in skeptical. This can’t be good for the pets. Can it? Being handled by endless people, day after day can’t be anything but stressful. And yet….Honestly, I loved it.
The animals snoozed. They ran in circles. They approached the people (who were limited by entry times). They ignored everyone in off limits areas where they could go if they didn’t want to be handled. The workers treated the animals like children and they responded with playful abandon.
And so reluctantly, I began to appreciate the experience. When else will I pet a relaxed fennec fox or feed a bathing capybara? Donning gloves, I fell in love with a hedgehog who only wanted to cuddle in my outstretched hands.
The meerkats wanted to burrow in blankets or the keepers overalls. The ferrets ran around an indoor obstacle course. Overwhelmed, I sat down and let the workers decide which animals needed my attention.
I am amused when Number one son let his meerkat escape his lap and make a made dash toward the ferrets. Alas, he was apprehended before he could crash the ferret’s party. But he was unpaused in his enthusiasm.
Between cups of hot tea, we played and laughed like children. It is good to connect with living creatures. It is good to remember that stewardship matters. It is good to laugh out of pure joy in the moment. I still understand all the ways that an animal cafe can go wrong…but on this day, every thing seemed exactly right.
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Meiji Morning: Travel Goals
This morning I wake up with the sun. It is a mystery to me how my internal clock always knows sunrise. Even on the other side of the globe, I’m up at the first hint of dawn. Last night we arrived in Tokyo after nineteen hours of travel. Unsurprisingly, the boys are still fast asleep. I should be, instead I am doing my best to quietly find my way around a strange new kitchen and somehow make coffee.
Despite not having a coffee maker and having cups the size of thimbles (I exaggerate, but not by much), I finally get enough instant coffee in my system to function. While I wait on my husband and my eldest child to awaken, I spend my time trying to figure out our public transportation options and to find a low key interesting destination that will ease our way into life in Tokyo.
Once my guys are awake and fed, we head to the bus stop at the end of the street. It looks like we can take bus 32 or 33 to the train station and save ourselves a long walk each day. I use Google Maps to navigate because I have no idea where I am going and the bus driver doesn’t speak English. The bus stop signs are in Japanese. The Google Translate camera isn’t great with the scrolling messages on the bus message boards, but Google Maps is showing our location in real time. Thankfully, occasionally we get a brief visual of the stops using the alphabet instead of Japanese characters. I can work with that. I chuckle because all the recorded bus messages are in Japanese, except for one that tells me to “please hold on tight” as if to say buckle up buttercup you are in Japan.
We exit the bus at the stop that Google suggests. We need to find Shinjuku Station (perhaps the largest train station in the world), but there is no station in sight. We follow a sign to an under ground complex. Still no station. We walk with the crowd, but are going the wrong way. Sweet baby Jesus, I need to find this station or my travel mates may not let me hear the end of it. Of course, they can always help navigate.
Eventually, my husband finds a sign and we find the station. We discover that Google Maps is often confused in multi story structures (especially if you are two or more layers underground). But perhaps we have cracked a code and solved the how to get to the station from the house issue. Next time we will ignore Google and ride one more stop to the main station.
Next we have to find the JR Yamanote train line. It turns out to be easier than I thought. We are only going two stops to Harijuku so we don’t care that the train car is crowded and that we have to stand. Our destination is the Meiji Jingu Temple park.
One look at the large park full of trees and the guys want to eat before we head into the sprawling temple complex. Apparently they have traveled with me before and see this as their last chance for sustenance before I hike them to death. We walk around the street in front of the train station, but the many choices make us even more confused. We look up menus online (because they are in English) and google the address. Then we walk in circles. Oh wait, the restaurant is likely underground….maybe we learned something this morning….maybe. Yes! We find the restaurant, but as we enter we are shooed outside before we can get in the door. I am confused and trying to decide where to go next when the hostess comes to get us. Apparently the restaurant is small and etiquette dictates you wait in a line outside until they ready your table. We apparently still have a lot to learn.
Full of noodles and happy to conquer the park, we head across the street. I am in love as soon as I see the first giant wooden Tori gate. I know the temple was built for the Meiji Emperor early in the last century but the gate feels ancient and timeless. Trees line the walk and I feel I have entered another world.
I convince my crew to visit the Empress Garden first. My husband recoils at the word garden, but my number one son is happy with the choice. I love sharing this place with him. He has been interested in Japan since he was a child. Perhaps he will enjoy some things my husband will not (sushi, tea houses, gardens…). It is nice when someone shares your enthusiasm. Of course they will bond over baseball, Godzilla, and the endless electronics stores that will come later I’m sure. Then I will be the reluctant follower. We balance.
The garden is serene with a traditional rest house. It is beautiful but understated. The lake is dry and the spring is not flowing. It is an unfortunate circumstance for the gardeners who are doing their best to work around the situation. I bet it is stunning when the water flows freely.
We walk on. The blue sky and the multi shades of green trees are a perfect setting. We stop at the purification fountain. There are directions in English. To enter the temple we must put our right hand under the fountain and take water to pour over our left hand. Then we must take water in our right hand and touch to our lips. Then we must bow at the Torii gate before crossing into the temple. I want to be respectful so I hope I do it correctly.
Inside there are multiple places to buy good luck charms and prayer cards. I take an offered peice of paper, write my request, and then place a prayer for peace in the world into the container to be added to the multitude of prayers said by the priests today. The world needs them and the Lord hears the cries of the needy.
Suddenly, the path is blocked. A crowd has gathered. I am not sure what is going on. We tiptoe to a see beyond the wall of people. My son, who is very tall, tells me that the monks are leading in a procession of baseball players. We find out it is the blessing of the team that marks the beginning of the season. People have turned out to witness the blessing and to offer their own prayers for good fortune. It is special to watch. I think about opening day at home in St. Louis. We just have Clydesdales. This is feels more serious.
Eventually the crowd thins. I am taken in by the simple beauty of the place. I am drawn to the “marriage” trees whose ropes and tassels symbolize the sacred. Couples and individuals pause to pray. So do I. It is as good a place as any to give thanks for my marriage and my partner of several decades. We aren’t perfect, but we are doing our best and I am thankful.
Just as we are leaving this beautiful space and I am thinking about marriage….how wonderful and how hard it can be….. A guard orders us to stand back behind a line. He pushes everyone back and then further back. We of course comply without knowing why. Within a minute, a traditional wedding procession takes shape. The bride is beautiful in her white kimono and large hat. The groom is smiling. They are covered by a large red umbrella, a symbol of shelter. The priests lead the procession into the temple. The guests follow. I hope they stop at the marriage tree and take a few seconds to understand the importance of roots and grounding. I hope they are as fortunate as we have been.
Japan is off to a great start. I am reminded that the conditions of life are not always convenient and can sometimes feel overwhelming. But if you choose wisely, you will find a partner to travel with who won’t really mind if you are up with the sun or sleeping in. They will co-navigate or at least understand that you are never really lost if you are together. They will laugh with you when the universe tells you to “hold on tight”. Pick the right travel partner and all of life is one crazy adventure after another. It has been a magical Meiji morning. I can’t wait to see what happens next.
Prisoner of Hopes
Prisoner of Hopes 