Text 30854, 87 rader
Skriven 2012-11-05 23:29:00 av MICHAEL LOO (1:123/140)
Ärende: in TYO 520
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The Villa Fontaine Ueno is on a semi-major street at the
edge of this district. When my computer did its malfunction
trick, the last word I'd had from Lilli was that she was
looking into an apartment type situation, and we talked no
more of it, and so I was surprised and perhaps relieved that
we were headed for a biggish modern and full-service hotel.
After checking in, we went upstairs to find a couple dozen
rooms on each floor surrounding an enclosed courtyard,
rather cute I thought. The accommodations are comfortable
if rather cramped by American standards, the room being
about half the size of my bedroom in Washington. We'd paid
extra for a room with two beds; these turned out to be
within inches of each other, so it is good that neither of
us snores loudly. A no-frills bathroom with a relatively
elaborate knockoff Totoish toilet, a source of endless
amusement with its warmable seat (high, low, or off),
adjustable bumwasher, and bidet.

A good sleep on the hard close beds followed by a decent
breakfast - hard-boiled eggs, bread and jam, and cakes of
meatloaf-like substance, of which I had several, as they
were loaded with onions and quite tasty. Salad with a
mustard dressing and broth to wash it all down. I believe
yogurt and other milk products were available but have
blanked out that memory.

Lilli wanted to see the Ueno area, or what, from some
tourist map, she thought was. That map wasn't to scale, so
this area extended quite a way. We ended up confining our
investigations to the immediate area, which included the
big park and its lakes and the National Museum, three
buildings of which were closed, which was fine, as it was
close to sensory overload anyhow. Best: seniors get in
free. Extraordinary examples of the potter's art,
brushwork, and sculpture coexisted with the most impressive
products of the armory, exemplifying the dual psyche of the
Japanese. More national treasures than anyplace else, plus
dozens of Important Cultural Properties, some of which I
thought exquisite, some of which I couldn't understand at
all. We passed up the science museum (despite the presence
of an exhibition on chocolate and the stuffed carcass of
the famous dog who returned to his master's subway stop
every weekday for something like nine years after his
master died, hoping he'd be rewarded, which he was by
becoming named another national treasure and being stuffed),
the museum of western art, the memorials to various pioneers
in the conquest of syphilis, a modern art museum, and other
wonderful landmarks.

Instead we turned hungrily to a random noodle place under
the train tracks on the strength of its having an English
sandwich board out front. The cashier actually spoke some
English, which was good, as my Japanese is horrendous. As we
can be quite contrary at times, neither of us had noodles.
For Lilli, who is mostly a meatarian, I ordered a tonkatsu;
for me, a beertarian, a couple of Asahis. Asahi is the local
Tokyo brewery just as Kirin is the Yokohama brewery and
Sapporo is the, uh ... .

The tonkatsu was a quite big pork cutlet, quite tender, with
a nice rim of fat hidden by the panko breading (we like
fat). This came with rice, which we shared, miso soup,
which I got most of, despite its being excellent for miso
soup and not fishy at all (Lilli had experienced a very
fishy version in California and had been seriously put off
by it). Also some dishes of pickled things, ginger,
cucumber, that kind of stuff, which I got all of, and a
weird concoction of squeaky but discolored green beans,
natto, several kinds of mushroom, a mountain of grated
radish topped with dried bonito shreds: a Bizarre Foods
episode in a dish, though not bad for that.

The stroll back to our hotel through the shopping district
took just a few minutes, as we were unencumbered by bags;
these we took back and lugged on the subway to the IC, a few
miles off. Turns out the IMF conference was putting up lots
of its delegates here, so we got a somewhat average room and
a somewhat chilly shoulder from the front desk (we were, it
is admitted, rather sweaty and underdressed). It wasn't in
fact a bad room, but the wireless was slow and spotty, no
doubt from being overused by diplomats and their officials
and functionaries sending reports back home. The toilet was
just like at the Villa Fontaine.

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