Okay, so I’m slowly coming around to Facebook, luddite that I am. However, that doesn’t mean I like everything about it (though just for the record, the most recent redesign doesn’t bug me at all). For one thing, I find the vast majority of the applications on Facebook—e.g., quizzes, games—rather pointless, if not horribly annoying.

Even though we may be friends, I really couldn’t care less if you’ve just taken a quiz and made some huge self-discovery, such as the type of parenting method that you are, or if you’ve got a new high score on Bejeweled Blast.

Thankfully, Facebook allows you to hide these alerts. Go to your Facebook homepage and scroll down in your news feed until you come across one of those app alerts/announcements from one of your friends. Place your mouse in the upper-right corner of the alert and a little “Hide” button will appear. Click on the button and a menu will appear with two options: you can hide all alerts from that friend or just alerts from that application. (If you click on the “Hide” icon for a “regular” alert in your news feed, you’ll just have the option to hide that friend’s alerts.)

If you want to “un-hide” a person or an app, scroll down to the bottom of your news feed and click on the “Edit Options” link. This will launch a pop-up menu that lists all of the friends, public profiles, and applications that are currently hidden from your news feed. Click on the “Add To News Feed” button next to any items that you want to see back in your news feed and click on the “Close” button when you’re done.

Maybe it was the pepperoni pizza I had for dinner, or the shock from being woken up at 2:30am by the police because our car got sideswiped, but I had some bizarre dreams the other night:

1. I had become involved in an illegal film ring, and was trying to bring it down from the inside.
2. I was in a Japanese hospital along with a talking crab and some other anthropomorphized sea creatures.
3. One of my co-workers announced they were leaving on the same day that I discovered our offices were right next door to EllisLab‘s.
4. Bill Callahan came to my workplace and led us all in a charismatic worship service.
5. Hirokazu Kore-Eda was making a film about an inflatable sex doll—played by Bae Du-na—who comes to life.

Oh wait, turns out #5 is real.

We spent almost a week in Tokyo, but feel like we only saw about 1% of the city—it’s that huge. Actually, I don’t think “huge” even comes close to capturing what the city feels like.

Due to Simon’s aforementioned illness, we weren’t able to explore as much as we would’ve liked. The only two places we really went to were the Imperial Palace Gardens and Akihabara.

The Imperial grounds are surrounded by a moat, which, in this day and age, is absolutely worthless from a military perspective. But I was struck by how a moat can still inspire wonder and awe; as you cross it, the mere fact that a particular tract of land has been set aside by this water imbues it with a certain feeling that could almost be described as sacred.

The Gardens, as you might imagine, are beautiful, full of flowering trees and wide open expanses that would make for the absolutely perfect picnic spot. It was a little chilly the day we went, but the place was still very active with families, salarymen on their breaks, and of course, tourists. It’s quite a walk, so make sure you prepare beforehand (we didn’t really), but a gorgeous walk nevertheless.

Akihabara is nuts with a capital “crazy”. Imagine the nerdiest, geekiest place on Earth, then multiply that by ten. Everywhere you look, you see stores selling crazy gadgets (apparently, this is where all of the Westerners come to get heated toilet sets), anime models and toys, the latest cutting edge technology, erotic sake cups, and of course, porn.

Speaking of anime models and toys, I think my VF-25 Messiah and EVA 01 figures are going to look pretty boss on my desk.

The Japanese are the masters of muzak. Case in point: we walked through a massive department store/shopping mall in Akihabara called Yodobashi Akiba—think 50 Best Buys rolled into one—and over the PA we heard a woman singing what we could only assume was an ode to Akihabara, but set to the tune of “The Battle Hymn of the Republic.” Best. Muzak. Ever.

We spent part of our time in Tokyo with our friends Chris and Molly, who are involved in college ministry. Thus, we were able to experience a Japanese college campus during recruitment time, which is when all of the college’s clubs attempt to sign up new students. For you UNL folks, imagine Big Red Welcome on a bender of crack and steroids, and you’re about halfway there.

I was actually reminded of the Cornerstone Festival, what with all of the booths and bands playing in the background. Indeed, one of my favorite moments in the entire three weeks was watching an unidentified Japanese college rock band tear it up on stage.

The day after visiting the campus, we went to an all-day BBQ with Chris, Molly, and the rest of their club. BBQs are BBQs no matter where you are. You eat hot dogs, play games (for the record, I did play a round of Ultimate Frisbee, something my body is still paying for), and just generally have a great time. Simon was a big hit; he had a trio of Japanese girls following him around like the paparazzi, doing their best to make him smile and taking his picture as often as they could.

The students were a delightful and awfully bright lot, and we had many pleasant conversations about our trip to Japan, Nebraska life, anime, and blogging, among other things. Every time I think about Tomohito, Tetsu, Tomoko, Masaki, Jun, and “Jack” (he was a big fan of 24), I can’t help but smile.

Going to the Ghibli Museum was, by far, the most bittersweet moment of the trip. If you’re at all a fan of My Neighbor Totoro, Grave Of The Fireflies, Princess Mononoke, Spirited Away, or any other Ghibli fare, then this place is your Mecca. But it’s not just a celebration of all things Ghibli; it’s also a celebration of animation in general. There are several tremendous exhibits—if you can call them that—that showcase the techniques and concepts behind animation, the history of animation, and a “behind the scenes” look at how animators work (complete with hundreds of beautiful sketches and paintings from past Ghibli films).

Other highlights of the Museum include: the Totoro that welcomes you and points you to the museum’s front door (one of my single favorite sites of the entire trip); the ode to Castle In The Sky‘s floating island of Laputa on the museum’s roof; the Catbus replica, which, unfortunately, only young children can climb on; and the theatre that plays various shorts including Mei and the Kittenbus, a spiritual sequel to My Neighbor Totoro that is exclusive to the museum. Which brings us to the bitter part of visiting the museum. I’m not sure if Simon was still recovering from being sick or if the museum crowd got to him, but he was quite the pill that day. So much so that Renae had to leave the theatre during Mei and the Kittenbus, an absolutely heartbreaking experience since there’s no way she’ll ever get to see the film again unless we return to Japan.

One of the tricky things about traveling overseas is that different countries have different security procedures. So what might’ve passed when you flew out of the States could throw up red flags when you fly out of Japan. Not that we caused any international incidents, but still, it was a little worrisome. Of course, the Japanese security officer was as courteous about the whole thing as you could imagine, and even cleaned our toiletries bag when she saw that one of our travel shampoo bottles had leaked.

Jet lag is a bitch. But jet lag when you’re sick? The only words to describe that are not ones you say (or type) in public. However, one thing that makes up for jet lag is having good neighbors and friends who will look after your child—who, of course, got a good night’s sleep on the 11-hour flight while you got zilch—when you get home so that you can get a couple hours of real, blessed sleep.

In a word, our trip to Japan was awesome. The only stress we experienced was during Simon’s bout of illness, at which point we seriously considered buying tickets to come home early. But I’m glad we stuck it out. Japan is a wonderful country, so much so that it’s really hard not to romanticize it. And it’s an especially great country if you’re traveling with young children. Indeed, we found it easier to travel in Japan with Simon than it is here in the U.S., language barrier notwithstanding—and even the language barrier is negligible, due to the fact that so many Japanese understand and speak English reasonably well (which couldn’t really be said of us when it came to their language).

Of course, we were incredibly blessed to have several friends in Japan to provide us with free or insanely cheap lodging, food, and guidance. So many, many thanks to the O’Donnells, Nethercotts, and Ebbers. Our trip wouldn’t have even been half of what it was without them.

Suffice to say, we can’t wait to go back. It might not be for several years, but we will make it back to Japan someday.

All of our Japan photos can be found in this Flickr set.

So we made it. We survived three weeks in Japan, with only a little jet lag to show for it. Actually, I kid: our trip was a wonderful experience, as you might’ve guessed from the “Notes from Japan” that I’ve been posting over time (#1, #2, #3, #4 is forthcoming).

Of course, our trip wasn’t all just sight-seeing and eating fabulous food. We also spent some time working on a serious family project.

The Shinkansen (aka, bullet train) is as bitchin’ as you might expect, and then some. Seeing one whip through the station at 70+ mph was enough to turn me into a giddy little seven-year-old boy all over again. When you’re actually in one, it’s like riding on a cloud, even moreso than an airplane. And yes, they’re on time—you really can set your watch to them (I did).

Kyoto is a beautiful city, but like much of Japan, can also be overwhelming. If/when you get off at Kyoto Station, make sure you spend about 15-20 minutes just wandering the station and getting your bearings. Also, be sure to check out the big board in the bus terminal that has brief descriptions of all of the major tourist attractions as well as all of the buses that go to each one. Once you do that, Kyoto will be much easier to explore, and you’ll appreciate the genius behind the city’s bus system. Seriously, it’s amazing.

All of the places we saw in Kyoto were great, but it’s always a little anti-climactic when you go to visit a centuries-old temple only to discover that it’s basically contained within a giant warehouse because it’s undergoing repairs. Don’t get me wrong, I understand that even temples need a little TLC from time to time, and the warehouses are impressive in their own way, but still, it’s a wee bit disappointing.

It’s hard to pick a favorite spot in Kyoto, but if pressed, I’d have to say either Ginkaku-ji or Fushimi Inari. The former is a beautiful temple built on the side of some forested hills, and as such, is surrounded by a number of sylvan paths and walkways. The latter is a network of temples and shrines connected by numerous pathways, all of which are lined by thousands of bright orange gates. The entire atmosphere is quite otherworldly and haunting as you walk through the gates, discovering little shrines at each and every turn; many of them have incense burning, literally in the middle of nowhere, which only adds to the sensation.

Speaking of Fushimi Inari, the paths stretch for several kilometers up and into the mountains, so it’s certainly no walk in the park. That’s doubly so when you’re carrying a one-year-old on your back (or so Renae tells me). However, once again, I was amazed at the apparent masochism of some Japanese; we saw numerous women assail the paths in high heels and miniskirts, and many men do it in business suits. It seemed that the only people dressed for actual hiking were the many westerners we saw.

For whatever reason, I was expecting a ryokan, or traditional Japanese hotel, to be akin to an American bed and breakfast. It’s not, really. Which is not to say that the ryokan was unpleasant, far from it. But it did take some getting used to. And no, we didn’t do the Japanese bath. Not because we were prudes or anything, but mainly because it was just too freakin’ hot.

If you’re like me and not inclined to wearing slippers, Japan can be a little confusing. In any given day, you’ll probably switch between three or four pairs of slippers, be they house slippers, hotel slippers, toilet slippers, or restaurant slippers.

Seeing a geisha was an odder experience than I thought it would be. On the one hand, you want to take a hundred photos because, well, they’re the quintessential Japanese symbol and because they’re absolutely stunning to behold, from the stylized makeup to their gorgeous kimonos. On the other hand, you feel ashamed of even lifting a camera in their general direction. You see, a geisha is immediately swarmed by people taking photos (including numerous Japanese, which struck me as a little strange for some reason), and you begin to feel sorry for these women who have to maintain such incredible poise and composure for so long. It’s as if they’re forced to stop being human beings and made to become human statues—statues that are elegant and graceful to a degree that’s hard to imagine, but statues nonetheless. As such, taking photos of them—even just one or two, like I did—feels somehow sacrilegious and cheapening.

Several of the department stores we visited had entire sections devoted to selling Studio Ghibli merchandise, which ranged from stuffed figures to scotch tape holders to calendars to toilet seat covers. If I were a weaker man, I could have easily spent several hundred dollars in one of these sections alone. Thankfully, I have some willpower, but it is awfully tempting. I have a feeling I’m going to lose it when we finally get to the Studio Ghibli museum.

Yes, we did go to McDonald’s while in Kyoto… twice. We also went to a Big Boy. Hey, when you’re tired from walking all day and have a sleeping kid, and standing in line for a “fancy” restaurant just isn’t going to work, sometimes all you can do is go for a quarter pounder with cheese. You may have sworn off fast food forever, but believe me, there will come a time if/when traveling overseas when you’ll cry tears of joy upon seeing those golden arches. And no, it doesn’t really taste any different here than in the States. The fries are better, though.

If you’re ever in Shizuoka, you must go to Giardino. We’ve had a lot of fantastic food in Japan and I’d place Giardino near the top of the list. It’s not a Japanese restaurant per se, but rather, has an eclectic menu that is a great mix of East and West. The food is incredible, both in terms of taste and presentation, and they have fantastic gelato. The restaurant, which feels like a swank European jazz club/coffeehouse with a distinct Japanese twist, has great atmosphere, and the owners—Shigeo and Koji—are the best of hosts.

As I’ve mentioned earlier, traveling with children changes the tourist experience quite a bit. That’s doubly true when traveling with sick children. It’s stressful enough when you’re in your home country, but in a foreign land where you don’t speak the language, they don’t have the same medicine that you’re accustomed to, and you find that you forgot to pack all of the basic kiddie medical supplies, it’s easy to quickly reach a state of panic. All of which is to say that when a family takes you under their wing, gives you the medicine and supplies you’re missing, lets you use their bathtub to bathe your sickly child, and even lends you their cellphone in case any emergencies arise later that night, well, words can’t really describe how much of a blessing it is.

Note to parents coming to Japan: be sure to bring your own children and infants’ Tylenol. You can’t get it here.

I used to think that the state of Washington at the height of berry season had the best fruit I’ve ever tasted. Now that I’ve been in Japan, I’m reassessing the opinion. Even the apple juice you buy in a carton from the neighborhood grocery store is so fresh, it tastes like the trees are growing next door. (But don’t worry, Washington: you’re still aces when it comes to blackberry pie. Noone’s ever going to take that from you.)

Renae, Simon, and I just returned to Shizuoka from Kyoto, where we spent about four days. And in those four days, we probably experienced more random acts of kindness than we’ve experienced in the last four months:

• When we arrived in Kyoto, we headed straight for our hotel, a small ryokan, or traditional Japanese lodging. Unfortunately, the map we had didn’t detail all of the city’s side streets (of which there are many). Suffice to say, we quickly got lost and began getting increasingly frustrated. We eventually asked for directions from a young couple out for a stroll with their own child, and they proceeded to spend the next 15-20 minutes helping us find our way. They walked us to a police box, found the ryokan’s location—which, as it turned out, was basically right around the corner—and insisted on walking us right to the front door.
• As we were touring some of the city’s shrines, we got caught in a sudden rainstorm. While we were huddled at a bus stop, a random woman came running out of her restaurant, which was about half a block away, handed us an umbrella, and without a word, went back to her restaurant.
• Simon did incredibly well, given the circumstances, but he had his limits—and the return of teething didn’t help matters. Thankfully, the citizens of Kyoto, as a whole, seemed quite prepared to help out with his outbursts. We had numerous people, mostly older grandmother types, giving him little presents and charms in stores and on the bus, making funny faces, offering up their seats, and even giving him little crackers. Which may seem like little things… until you have a screaming one-year-old on your hands.

As I’ve said earlier, Renae and I have tried hard not to romanticize Japan, and yet, when we experience gracious actions like these, and many others, what else can we do?

More random observations as we traverse the Land of the Rising Sun:

I’ve always looked down my nose at minivans despite being very aware of their usefulness (when you’re traveling long distances with children, they’re certainly a godsend). However, being in Japan has changed all of that. Nearly everyone here (or at least, in Shizuoka) drives a minivan, but these aren’t your typical soccer mom rides. They’re sleeker and more compact, and come loaded with features—including rear-mounted video cameras. And speaking of cameras, everyone here parks backwards, so being able to see what’s going on behind you can be a real plus.

I alluded to this earlier, but if you’re going to travel anywhere with a young child, you can’t go wrong with Japan. Everything here seems so much more child-friendly, from the play areas in major department stores to the detachable high chairs in restaurants. And of course, there’s the fact that you’ll have complete strangers come up and say “Hi” and play with your child—little grandmotherly types, teenage girls—and yet, it doesn’t feel at all threatening or unsafe.

Dealing with credit card fraud always sucks donkey balls, but it sucks really big donkey balls when you have to deal with it while overseas. And all of those security procedures that banks put in place to protect your account? They’re great so long as you’re in the States. If you’re overseas, however, they make it nearly impossible to truly fix things. On the other hand, getting your tax refund deposited while you’re overseas is a delight—it means that much more money for good food, souvenirs, etc.

I’m not really much of a beer drinker, but I don’t want to drink anything else when I’m eating yakitori.

And since we’re on the subject of food, everything’s been wonderful so far. From the fresh strawberries—there are strawberry booths all over the place here—to the fresh citrus that you can pick right off the tree, from the sashimi to the tonkatsu, it’s all incredibly tasty and quite inexpensive. And talk about presentation: even the bento boxes you buy from a cheap, hole-in-the-wall roadside stand look gorgeous.

I don’t want to keep going on and on about traveling with kids and whatnot, but it is a very different tourist experience. In fact, you don’t really feel like tourists at all. I had always envisioned traveling through Japan on my own, or at most, with my wife, but never with children in tow. Having Simon along has really changed the experience: you travel at different times, you check out different places (like shopping malls and childrens clothing stores), and your dining experiences are quite different as well (kids fuss at the table in any country, it seems).

We’ve also spent a lot of time with other families—our hosts, their neighbors (another American missionary family), their Japanese friends—and that also dramatically changes the tourist experience. Again, you feel less like a tourist, and more like you’ve just skipped down the block to have coffee and lunch with some neighbors. Only these neighbors live halfway around the world and speak a different language. Not really all that different, though, when you get down to it.

For another strange experiences, simply attend church in a foreign country. Your own culture shapes how you view your religion in so many subtle ways, and when another culture is inserted in its place—even if all that that entails is singing familiar praise and worship choruses in another language—it’s a slightly jarring experience. Not uncomfortable or bad, by any means—it’s always a good thing to be reminded that the Church and your nationality are not one in the same, but that the Church transcends and trumps your nationality—but jarring, still. It also adds several layers of oddness when you’re listening to a sermon via translation but you can still hear the sermon, in Japanese, over your headphones… and the one giving the sermon is American. (OK, maybe not so odd on paper, but in person, it is.)

There is always a sense of alienation when you travel in a foreign land and speak very little of the native tongue (as I believe I’ve mentioned before, most of my Japanese comes from anime and samurai films). Not a bad or depressing sort of alienation, but you do find yourself questioning the “we’re all connected” mantras that you hear so often these days. When you walk into a fast food restaurant or up to a yakitori stand, and your only interaction with the person in front of you is to hand them several thousand yen, and you know that there is a 0.0000000001% chance of ever seeing or interacting with that person again, and an even smaller chance of ever having a significant interaction with that person… well, it does some weird things to your head. Of course, this is also true even in your hometown of Lincoln, Nebraska, but the sense of this is heightened while overseas.

On the flipside, you are reminded that the notion that people really are much the same, regardless of where you are, is not some trite cliche, but actually a great Truth.

Renae and I are really struggling with romanticizing Japan. It’s easy to forget that our trip is happening under very ideal circumstances, what with our good friends helping us out and all. Even so, we’re continually impressed by the Japanese. At the risk of sounding ignorant and naive, they do seem to do so many things consistently well. Even the parking attendants, which are pretty much a necessity in the busy and crowded parking lots here, go about their job with a focus that is quite remarkable, regardless of weather or time of day.

On a related note, it’s all about the details here. For example, the woman who asked if the souvenir I bought was a present, and then proceeded to take a brown paper bag and a little bow and turn them into the most exquisite gift-wrapping. Or the coffeehouse barista who, upon learning that we’d be driving for about 20-30 minutes, put a cold pack in the bag to ensure that Renae’s latte coffee pudding would be nice and cold when we arrived home (at no extra charge, of course).

Seeing Mt. Fuji is an impressive experience, even when 90% of it is obscured by clouds.

Everyone under the age of 50 is dressed to the nines, regardless of the time or place. Case in point: we ascended Kunouzan-Toshogu (aka, the Thousand Steps), a stone stairway that ascends through the mountains to a temple that overlooks the ocean and surrounding countryside. It’s not an impossible trek, but definitely no walk in the park, and yet the woman in front of us did the entire thing in 3” heels.

If you’re a hypochondriac or are obsessive compulsive about coming into contact with a toilet seat that has touched someone else’s buttocks, than Japanese toilets are for you. They’re basically holes in the ground, albeit covered in porcelain, that you just squat down over and let gravity do the rest (just remember to face the hood). I won’t go into any more graphic detail—I’m sure you get the idea—but I will say this: make sure you do some stretching and exercise before using one. It’s murder on your knees and thighs to stand back up after finishing your business (if you’re over 60 and/or have even a touch of arthritis, forget about it). All of which leads me to believe that the Japanese must have the strongest upper legs in the entire world.

More to come after we get back from Kyoto…

We’ve been in Japan now a couple of days, and so far, so good. Jet lag—which normally puts my butt in a world of hurt—has been notably better this time around (maybe staying up 24 hours straight is the way to go). We haven’t done much sightseeing yet—we’re still resting up—but sakura (i.e., cherry blossom) season is upon us, and we’ll be heading out soon enough to see all that we can.

In the meantime, here are just a few random observations from the trip (in roughly chronological order)—and you can find all of our travel photos here.

Northwest Airlines are bastards. Not because they forgot to put one of our bags on the plane to Japan (meaning that we were without toiletries and most of Simon’s clothes for awhile) or that their flight attendants were mean (which they weren’t at all) but because of the videos they play for their coach class passengers that highlight all of the amenities enjoyed by their business and first class passengers. Footrests, built-in video players, fully reclining seats—these things are not meant for us plebs in coach, and yet as soon as you get situated in your only slightly debilitating seat, they show you a video displaying the luxuries you could be enjoying… if only you had shelled out a couple hundred extra dollars (if not more).

All of the guidebooks that we read told us that Japan is a wonderful place to bring children because the Japanese, as a culture, adore the kiddies. We discovered this truth while still on the plane. There were approximately 20-30 Japanese girls in their late teens/early twenties on the flight, and they were all enamored with Simon, exclaiming “kawaii” (transl. “cute”) whenever they saw him, playing with him, taking photos, etc. And of course, Simon, the little flirt, did nothing to dissuade them. It’s been much the same ever since we landed in Japan.

Japanese airports have the most advanced bathrooms in the world. I walked into one, and I thought I’d somehow walked onto a Borg cube. There were approximately 18 devices that I can only assume were related to the evacuation and disposal of bodily waste. The toilet was vaguely recognizable, but even it was super-charged, complete with bidet, a fan for drying, and probably an automated wiping device. I’ll confess, I did experience a little stage fright. All that being said, heated toilet seats are quite nice. We’ll have to look into giving Opus HQ’s bathrooms an upgrade when we get back.

We passed an egg vending machine on day. I was a little confused by how they kept the eggs fresh and all, until our friend pointed out that the chickens are in the back.

We’re currently staying with our friends in Shizuoka, which is a lovely city located near the ocean and the mountains. Which means that on a clear day—such as the one we had yesterday—you can see forever over the ocean and see Mt. Fuji in all of its glory.

Japanese bento boxes might be the world’s greatest fast food. (If only they could find a way to integrate bacon…)

Mister Donut is pretty much the only place here in Japan to buy donuts. And they serve a donut that is part hot dog. Make of that what you will.

I’ll admit that most of my impressions and initial visions of Japan stem, for better or worse, from the movies and anime that I’ve watched throughout the years. Which I know is a very distorted way to think of a country. I don’t expect giant robots to appear out of the blue and duke it out in front of me or anything, but even so, I’m experiencing a curious form of deja vu every time we run an errand, make a run to the store, etc… like I’ve somehow stumbled into a scene from one of the movies I saw so long ago.

Shizuoka is an incredibly confusing and complicated city, especially if you come from a place like Lincoln where most of the streets are laid out in a grid. On a related note, I’m incredibly impressed with the Japanese ability to make the most of even the tiniest amount of space, be it a clever storage cabinet in the house or a small, yet beautiful park in the middle of a packed urban area.

Shizuoka’s city parks are incredible. Each one is a little oasis of natural beauty in the city, and yet, they blend in perfectly with the surrounding urban landscape. One in particular is especially cool, with forest paths and obstacle courses, and it’s just a short distance from our friend’s front door. If Simon were a few years older, he’d think he was in heaven.

The Japanese are serious about pet feces. There are signs everywhere reminding you to clean up after your dog/cat.

The sound of a bamboo forest—the wind rustling the leaves, the clacking of the branches—is one of the most peaceful sounds I’ve ever heard.

Engrish really does exist, and it’s as awesome as you’ve heard.

Perhaps it’s the urban environment we’re currently in, or that we’re still surrounded by a number of Americans—our friends, their neighbors—but we sometimes forget that we’re in Japan. It’s strange, I know, but it does happen. And then something little will happen—we’ll see an ume (plum blossom) tree in full bloom, or come across a Buddhist cemetary—and it all comes rushing back.

More to come in the following days and weeks.