Mind Your Chopsticks

Read on for Chapter Two of Mind Your Chopsticks.

CHAPTER 2
The Meishi, Don’t Leave Home Without It

“You look spiffy.”
Paul was all decked out in his requisite dark suit, ready to go out and conquer the world, well maybe just Japan, as the new Assistant Manager of the Bank’s Tokyo Branch. He picked up his briefcase, also requisite, I might add, and turned to me, hesitating. “Have fun today, but don’t forget the hotel meishi.”
“Meishi! What’s that?”
“A business card with the hotel name, address, and phone number in Kanji.”
“You mean the Japanese writing – all those little lines and swirls?”
“Yes. In case you get lost, you can find your way back to the hotel.”
Lost! I hadn’t thought about being lost. That kind of put a damper on my day. But no one could ever call me a coward. Well, not really.
“Just show it to anyone on the street and he will point you in the right direction.”
Paul went off to work and left me all alone with ten million Japanese. But not to worry. I had my center of operations, the Palace Hotel, and I had my crisp white meishi. Sounded like a fool proof plan to me. Well, not quite 100%. Maybe on our first outing, it might be a good idea to keep the hotel in sight.
So off we went, the three of us. At ten in the morning, the winter sun did little to dispel the chill, and the brisk wind had a definite bite to it. We should have been wearing gloves. Then again, maybe we should have been back in our warm cozy room. The boys didn’t seem to mind, though. Just being outside was all that mattered to them. As we picked our way along the crowded sidewalk, people of all ages rushed along, most of them dressed in Western clothing, like us, and all of them bundled up in heavy overcoats. I hoped our California coats were warm enough. Maybe we should have worn hats too. My trusty guidebook did say that average December temperatures were between five and ten degrees Celsius. I wondered what that was in our temperature.
In the crowd, I noticed an elderly Japanese couple coming towards us, staring. The lady wore a brown and gold kimono with wooden sandals and those little white socks with the separated big toe. She seemed friendly enough and smiling in a grandmotherly way, she suddenly stopped, reached down, and touched first Pauley’s hair, then Ryan’s. She smiled again. They walked away without saying a word.
Pauley looked up at me and asked, “Why did she pat my head?”
“Maybe, she likes your hair.”
He felt his hair. “It’s just regular hair.”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s just because our hair is different.” Actually, I hadn’t seen another Westerner since we left the hotel. Maybe this couple had never seen two little blond boys before. I wondered if this was going to happen every time we went outside. Hats just might be a good idea.
As we crossed the street, I looked back over my shoulder. Yes, the hotel was still there. Then, from the street, we climbed a stone pedestrian bridge that spanned the Palace moat. Swans were swimming in the moat and everything looked peaceful and safe. Emboldened, I moved on.
The Imperial Gardens hadn’t been designed to be a children’s playground in spite of what Rod had said. The paths, maybe, but not the gardens. The term Rock Garden didn’t fit in my vocabulary either, but here it was – the real thing. Large spaces of tiny pebbles were raked in intricate designs and studded with rocks of all sizes and shapes, some as large as a Volkswagen bug. I was entranced. The boys were ecstatic. “Don’t mess up the rocks.” Oops. Rock Gardens are not made for sliding. And climbing on statues. “Pauley, get down from there.” Perched on the nose of some mythical animal, he grinned down on me. I looked around. Had we hurt anyone’s feelings?
“Look, Mommy. I can see way over there. It’s like an airplane.”
“Come down this instant.”
I looked around again. Where was Ryan? Then, I spotted him halfway down the path
waddling off to who knows where – definitely a man on a mission.
“Ryan, Come back!” I ran off after him, Pauley on my heels, and snagged the little escapee just as he rounded the comer. Now, with both boys firmly in hand, I said, “Okay guys, it’s definitely time to go home.” I considered tying them up together. But no. Maybe a little harsh. I looked around again. The hotel was here just a minute ago. I clutched my trusty meishi, but who could I show it to? Where were all the people? I guess the Imperial Gardens is not the number one tourist spot in December. But not to panic. We’d just explore this path. But all the paths seemed to look alike, and it was getting colder. Finally an exit loomed ahead, just not the one we had come in, though, and no hotel in sight.
Pauley spotted her first as she stepped out of the path in front of us. She carried a baby on her back, the baby wrapped in a heavy shawl with just the tip of its head showing. Pauley pointed and shouted, “Look, Mommy. The baby is coming out of the Mommy’s tummy – very slowly.”
“Pauley, don’t point.” She glanced over at us, looking a little puzzled. Did she mind being pointed at?
“But look at the little baby.”
I smiled, she smiled. She bowed, I bowed. How can she do that with a baby on her back? But now that we had done the introductory bows, maybe she would help us. I held out my meishi and she took it. She studied it carefully, pursed her lips. I held my breath. And suddenly her eyes lit up. She nodded. “Dozo” and began walking. We followed as she kept nodding over her shoulder. But nothing looked familiar. Finally she came to a comer and looked around. She seemed a little, how should I say it? confused. Oh, now she’s lost. Bowing several more times, (That baby must be dizzy with all that bowing) she mumbled something, shook her head, gave me back the now wrinkled meishi, and scurried off the way we had come . So much for Paul’s “Show it to anyone on the street.”
Now what? It was getting even colder, our breath coming out in little white puffs. I could see the headlines ‘American family freezes to death on the streets of Tokyo.’ Suddenly, two men in dark suits stepped out of a building just in front of us. They’re wearing the requisite suits. They must know the hotel. It was worth a try. I approached them bowing and once again produced my meishi, which was beginning to show the signs of the wear and tear of so many helpful hands. They took it and launched into some serious discussion. I thought Feel free to talk among yourselves.
Finally, though, they came to a decision and the younger one took out a pen and a piece of paper. Please, not in your writing. I can’t read your writing. But no. He was drawing a map. What a good idea. He handed it to me and pointed back the way we had come. I studied the little map. Oh, we had come a long long way in the wrong direction. How did we do that? But I recognized the moat on the map. Keep the moat on my left. I smiled and thanked them profusely. I really wished I knew how to say ‘thank you’ in Japanese. Hopefully, my bows looked grateful enough.
Ryan began dragging behind. I scooped him up and grimly started back in the direction we had come with the moat on my left.
“Mommy, it’s raining. Look the rain is white and it sticks on my tongue.” Pauley was jumping up and down.
“Snow? Does it snow in Tokyo?” I started laughing. This couldn’t be happening.
“Look, Mommy, everyone’s hair is turning white.”
At least we’ll blend in a little more. I looked around. Actually, there weren’t too many people left in the street to blend in with. Where did they all go?
“Can’t we play in the snow?” He was trying to catch the big heavy snowflakes that were coming down faster by the minute. Ryan, on the other hand, had made a snap decision. He didn’t like snow and began to wail.
“Come on, Pauley. Why don’t we play ‘Find the hotel in the snow.’” I grabbed him by the hand and began walking. “Let’s go before we get caught in a blizzard.”
“What’s a blizzard?”
“Nothing. Let’s go.”
The streets off to the right were twisty narrow little alley ways. How do they get cars down there? Maybe they don’t. Some curious little establishments too. One had a blue cloth with big writing hanging over the open doorway. It must have been a restaurant because the smells wafting through the opening were cooking smells. I was tempted. Also, Pauley had lost interest in the snow and was whining, “I’m hungry.”
“If we go really fast, we’ll find our hotel and then we can eat.”
“But, I’m hungry nooow.”
I wondered if anyone in there spoke English. Maybe we could have lunch while we waited out the storm. I poked my snow covered head through the cloth opening. It was a cozy little room with lots of chattering customers enjoying steaming bowls of what looked like noodles. It smelled good too. But, there was nobody who looked remotely like us and not a fork in sight. Suddenly, a weathered little old man sitting at a nearby table spotted me and his conversation halted in mid-sentence. Within seconds, the silence and astonishment swept like a wild fire through the tiny establishment until the entire clientele stared open mouthed. Oops. It definitely wasn’t a McDonalds. I smiled and backed away, making a few hasty exit bows, dragging the boys with me. But Pauley hadn’t given up. “But I’m still hungry.”
Ignoring his mounting protests, I checked my trusty map again. It had been right so far. Only two more blocks. At least, I hoped that was what it said. Finally, we turned a corner and there it was – the Palace Hotel – exactly where I had left it – right across the street from the Imperial Gardens.