We came into town this summer to see Andy & Nikki’s get married:

Andy was in our wedding party, and jon was Andy’s best man. If boys ever talked about BFFs, I’m pretty sure that Andy and Jon would be right up there on each other’s lists. So you know, it’s really cool to see him happy. Nikki’s such a fantastic person, I’m really excited that we’ll get to be friends for lots of years.

We’re at this age where lots of people we know are starting to pair off and buy houses together, and it’s kind of a wake up call that we’re all growing up. I think one of the coolest things that is happening is that you grow your friendship circle by a bit. You know? Andy marries Nikki and now we can count nikki as friend that will be around until we’re all in walkers and the boys throw their backs out, trying to throw a disc golf. Isaiah marrying Corey – and, corey’s a fantastic chick that I would have never met otherwise. Chris married sarah, and now I have a sister-in-law that I like quite a bit and well, you get the picture. It’s exciting.

This picture was from their rehearsal dinner on Saturday night. Andy’s gramma hosted a picnic in her (incredible) back yard. This picture is so “milwaukee” to me.

“Thank you for shopping with AT&T. Your iPhone 3G S has been reserved. Your iPhone 3G S will be shipped in 7 to 14 days.”

We’re getting an iPhone. How incredible is that? We’ll never be lost again. And Jon will have immediate gratification that he’s right, when we’re disputing something and i say, “well, I’ll definitely have to wikipedia that when we get home”.

And… there are APPS! Glorious apps. For everything. And videos!  And … well.   I’m just so excited, I wanted to share with you.

For those of you who have been following the Fetzich / Grimord drama over the past five years will understand why this message made my spit water out of my mouth and onto the person sitting next to me. It’s fair to say that Ashley has been cheated out of a functioning family. One with aunties, uncles and cousins that love her. She has… well, she has all of us instead. And I think she’s relatively well adjusted regardless.

Anyhow, Ashley’s only Stateside aunt kind of sucks. This is unfortunate for Ashely because I have another, much cooler aunt that Ashley knows very little about. So this is a small tribute to my way cooler aunt, Cheryl.

Given the choice, Mom would choose Cheryl as a sister over Debbie any day. Even though they haven’t talked in quite some time, I think she likes her way better. It’s unfortunate that families don’t really work that way.

Cheryl and Michael live down in L.A., so it’s kind of a rare treat to see them. Just as Jon was moving up to Bremerton, they bought a house in Olalla – a town about 40 minutes south of where jon works. Pretty crazy coincidence, but it results in me getting to have dinner with them a few times a year. This is the front of it – behind the house there are about two acres of grass, a pond, some deer, and more grass.

They live in what I can only describe as “the country”, even though I know it’s less than an hour away from a majour city. There’s more nature here than anywhere else that we go regularly. There’s nature. And despite it’s lack of wifi, it’s beautiful.

Michael, who I can only picture as an Los Angelite, looks surprisingly at home on a tractor with a baseball cap and a Miller Lite. It’s almost like he was born to not live in the city and he’s just been waiting for his golden opportunity to mow grass and buy rugged guy-toys.

Anyhow, the two of them have always been quick to offer support and advice, and to welcome jon into the family. They rock and I’m happy to have them in my life.

Red wine vinegar takes about 3 months to make, but white for some reason takes about twice that. I wonder if there’s any culinary benefit (aside from colour?) to using red vs. white wine vinegar. I’ve always substituted one for the other based on what was in my cabinet at the time.

This web site goes on to say that cheap zin, cabernet or merlot make fantastic starters for your vinegar (zin vin? hehe).

[note: photo above is courtesy of Gang of Pour]

I came home last Sunday morning with a two-pound bag in hand, and a vague idea about how I wanted to spend my afternoon.

That afternoon included mixing up my favourite oyster topping, jon shucking, and us drinking a bottle of sparkling wine. Bubbles may just be a must-have for the first oysters of the season.

So. Oyster toppings. Sure, you can just squeeze a lemon over them and call it a day – enjoy the subtle, briny flavours that each differing varietal has, but that’s about as much fun as vanilla ice cream. Or you can douse them with hot sauce and bread crumbs. Or you can put that awful pre-chewed spinach mixture on top (I puke in your shoe if you actually like oysters Rockefeller).

But I love the mignonette sauce. I think it’s delicate and beautiful. Oh, and easy to make at home.

Start with 1/2 c. red wine vinegar (I had to use white because that’s what we had in the cabinet. It’s fine, but you lose the pretty rose colour). I’d really like to try this with different wine-vinegars to see how it impacts the flavour.

And to that you add 1 T black pepper…

and 2 T chopped shallots….

Shake them all together and spoon on top of your oysters. I think if you were to add 1-2 T of dijon or stone ground mustard (or an egg yolk) it would make a really tasty vinaigrette too. Yum!

Once a year at the summer solstice, otherwise snarky Seattlites shed their furrowed brows and get together for the Fremont Fair. People line up along the streets to get a good spot for viewing the parade, where local organizations make earth-tastic floats and brazen souls shed their clothes and ride their bikes naked.

I’m sorry, what was that? Yes, you heard right – the famed naked bike riders. This is the one day a year where body paint is a suitable replacement for cotton. It’s kind of exciting.

After the parade, we wander down to the street fair, where vendors and artisans line up for blocks and blocks. The chaotic streets reminded us of Japan, where Jon and Will had to admit it was kind of weird not being the tallest in the group.

Check it out, Elizabeth – this woman was felting:

Public events in Seattle are fantastic, because you can always count on Theo to be there, slanging bites of their premo-chocolates. Usually the crowds around them are so thick that I can get away from jon long enough to gorge myself and eat samples until I feel like puking. He loves me, so he just shakes his head and tries not to tell me “I told you so”.

I kind of love what Fremont represents – though I’m not convinced that it behaves this way the rest of the year.

Evey May, cheesemakers from around the NorthWest set up a booth and slang their cheese. For free. You can buy wedges from your favourites, but for the most part you’re just gorging yourself of free, artisinal cheese.

There are always some that are much better than others, and some that you wonder if *anyone* likes. (when they say the goat cheese tastes like “barnyard”, I don’t expect it to taste like a direct relative of goat poo.)

A few years ago at another foodie event in Seattle, we learned about Manchego. It quickly became one of our favourites – with its slightly honied, semi-firm texture. It’s a great cheese to bring to a party because it’s simple to pair (with food and wine) and it’s always a crowd pleaser. It’s from La Mancha, Spain. (Think Don Quixote) The texture on the rind has conflicting stories: some say it’s reminiscent of the particular baskets that it was aged in, and others say it’s from the weave of the grass it was aged in. Regardless, now it’s just for show. And easy identification.

Throughout the day there are also chef-demos. I remember these being more awesome in previous years. This was the chef from Crow / Betty, Craig Serbousek(?):

The place was packed. On the crowd-entering side, it was difficult to get any cheese at all because the crowd was so dense. These boys seem to have given up. Their cheese wasn’t that good anyways. It made me laugh a little.

After the Cheesefest, we headed over to the Seattle Symphony for Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue (and a few other pieces). It was so much fun! I decided that I love Gershwin for his jazzy, upbeat awesomeness.

Okay, I have a confession. I love the matinee. Despite the fact that I’m a solid 50 years younger than the rest of the ticketholders, I really think it’s the way to go. You can still get to bed early, get dinner, your day’s still open. It’s… so great. The old people are on to something. They come by the busload.

I was hit by a semi. In the car. The car…. was hit by a semi.
Everyone’s okay. It was just a fender-bender, but what the heck?

AND I found out jon’s plane was hit by lightening on his flight home from Japan. Why didn’t that come up before, jon?! He says it was no big deal and stuff like that happens frequently. *I’ve* never been on a plane that’s been hit by lightening. And furthermore, how did it take nearly a week to tell me? Wouldn’t you mention something like that when we have the standard “hi honey, how was your flight?” conversation. Sigh. Boys.

I suppose I am uncommunicative in other ways.

So back to the semi. We’re both sitting at a red light in south-downtown (1st and spokane), waiting to turn right, when the semi starts backing up. Now, I’ve never known cars to randomly back up at a stop light. I’ve never seen this. I didn’t know it was a possibility. On a hill, with a standard transmission, sure – there may be some rollback. But at flat red light, to physically put your car in reverse? No, I just didn’t know that was a possibility.

So the car doesn’t have any majour damage, though it will definitely need a new grill and perhaps a new front bumper. It’s unfortunate that a few deep scratches could cause an entire bumper to be replaced, but i suppose that’s the drawback to driving around in plastic cars.

In other news, we’ve been home for exactly one week now and life is officially back to normal. We’ve (just about) finished unpacking, jon’s going out to see Star Trek tonight with Kyle and Will, and I’m cooking dinner for some friends.

Actually, I’m looking forward to cooking dinner. It’s great to look through my recipes, find something with ingredients that I KNOW i can just go to the store and buy (you’d be surprised how hard it was to find things like cilantro in japan. it was there… sometimes. but let me tell you – it wasn’t called cilantro.) and cook in a kitchen with nice pans and sharp knives.

Afterward we went out for Thai food to our favourite place in Queen Anne, where jon said “arrigatou” twice and I nearly yelled “SUMI MASEN!!” across the dining room to get the waitresses attention.  Looks like it may take some adjustment to behave correctly in our society again. haha.

Later drank a great bottle of pinot from Elk Cove (it’s good to be home) and looked at the preview of our Japan-Book.  I sent it off to be printed yesterday morning, and I’m so greatful that it’s done.  Jon’s was going on and on about all of our wine accessories, which I suppose is good since we have them all. “What should we cut the foil with?” “What tool should we use as a pouring instrument?”

“A little paraphernalia always makes things better. Do you think we should get one of those crazy venturi aerator things?” So to all of you who have given us wine, or wine accessories over the years – thank you. Please know that they’re well used and loved.

And in about a week I’ll have a hardbound record of our trip that I’d love to share with you.

time to catch another plane!

I’ve been absent lately.  Perhaps a little bummed that we’re going home.  Perhaps a little preoccupied with other things.
I just wanted to let you know that we’re getting on a plane later today, and we’ll be back home by afternoon on Friday.  See you soon!

Thanks to everyone we met here, for making these last four months so much fun.  Hopefully life will bring us back here.

Click on the pictures below to see full sized proofs.

I keep talking about aligning expectations as a key to happiness, and I think I may be on to something. A few weeks ago I was gung-ho about wanting to stay here on a three year contract. But now that our time is drawing to an end, I’m eager to go “home”.

So. In a last ditch attempt to make the most of our time, we’ve got a busy week lined up.

Last Sunday, I took a solo-trip to the island of Enoshima. I have some rad pictures of fuji to share with you soon. Last night we had stephen and jill over for dinner (which turned out really good – I’m going to post the recipes soon!). Tonight we’re going to a soccer game and tomorrow a ping-pong tournament! Friday we’re trying to organize a picnic/bbq with all the japanese friends we’ve made while we’ve been here. Saturday is “garden day” – where we’re going to rock it old’school in the park. Perhaps there will be day-drinking? Sunday, unfortunately jon has to work.

In the meantime, my book is coming together nicely. I’m at about 150 pages and nearly through our April adventures. Just need to work on typography a bit. I’m looking forward to showing it to all of you. Sesame is busy as usual, though I have to admit that having some extra help (thanks to Caren!) means life doesn’t suck. I’m designing more and I haven’t threatened suicide in like, three weeks.

Mrs. teamEggers is rather grumpy about said arrangements, but I think she’s handling it rather gracefully. After all, actually working 6pm-7am, 7 days a week, sucks significantly more for Mr. teamEggers.
But you don’t see him complaining about it.

You may be wondering what *I’m* doing in my now jon-less time. I haven’t been terribly inspired to conquer new territories alone, so I spend my nights quietly. Having exhausted my supply of Murakami books, I’ve taken to reading trashy novels and drinking wine at the Spanish bar we recently found.

I’m also working on a coffee table book with the photos from our trip. I expect it to be around 100 pages long – 11×13.

Rereading all of our blog posts from the past four months has been really interesting. I look back at the posts from January and can honestly say I’ve learned some things about this crazy country. I no longer leave the house in well-disguised-terror and I can accurately tell the difference between a shrine and a temple.

My goal is to finish the book before May and send it off to print a week before we leave. I would really love it if we had it right away to show everyone when we got back.

In 1999 we were still developing film and showing off our photo albums. In 2009 we’re actually publishing books with the help of software like iPhoto, WordbPress, and Blurb. I love the future.

(the picture up top are of the snail-statues outside our apartment)

On our way to Daio we stopped at a temple.

While I can’t find any confirming information, I believe the placard said that it was the tokoji temple and these were the shoes of a great buddha. All who wore the shoes would have good luck, etc. Jon, who hates fun, wouldn’t put the shoes on.

The afternoon that followed was the sort of scene they have in movies. You know the kind when the grumpy, desolate girl from New Jersey is swept off her feet by a rich, older man and they have a whirl-wind getaway in the countryside somewhere? Yeah, kind of like that.

With sunshine-filled blue skies overhead, the country highways provided excellent views of the enigmatic Japanese Alps.

I had always seen these mountains painted in such a way that I thought it was the regional watercolour style of painting. I had no idea that that the mountain ranges actually appear to be fading of in the distance, like each farther peak was shrouded in an increasingly dense fog. There’s no other way you could paint them. My photos do not do them justice.

If I look at my monitor in the right way, this photo has a very distinct large circle where the sun is. It’s incredible. I just cant stop looking at it and thinking that “the land of the rising sun” really means something here.

After a pleasant 20 minute bike ride, we arrive at Daio. Daio is essentially the Disney Land of wasabi farms. We’re in wasabi-country and Daio is the one that tour busses line up at.

The grounds were beautiful.

The wasabi was tasty. My only complaint was that it was a little too family friendly. The “wasabi beer” was more like St. Patrick’s Day Kirin and the only discernable quality about the “wasabi ice cream” was the chalky aftertaste it left. Honestly though, if my only complaint about the day was that my ice cream wasn’t spicy enough, I lead a charmed life.

This is fresh wasabi root. They make special dishes that you can grind it in! The best thing to do is to grind it about 15 minutes before you’re going to eat it. We read later that wasabi is similar to wine – a small amount of oxidation allows the flavours to meld and cohere (ie: get spicy), but too long and you lose the freshness and potency. I’ve been exclusively eating bad wasabi my entire life and didn’t even know it.

We’ll go ahead and call it a smokin deal.

So these ryokan – they’re not like hotel rooms as we know them.  They size is measured by how many tatami mats you can fit on the floor, and instead of a bed you have futons on the floor.  (these fold out)

I hadn’t really expected to stay in the “lap of luxury” for $60/night, but I also was a little nervous about how comfortable sleeping on the floor could be.  Boy, was I wrong. I don’t know how they do it, but these little guys are like nests of love.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.  When you get to the ryokan, they ask you to take your shoes off at the door and they give you slippers.  There’s a 3 room dining area where you fill out your paperwork (and also where breakfast is served in the morning).

There’s a little zen garden in the middle.  I wonder how many buildings we pass have this hollowed out center to let nature in?  It’s one of those things I would have never guessed existed from the exterior of the building.

There’s a house bath and a house shower, (though since there were only 8 rooms, we didn’t really have to wait long for them) and two sets of toilets.  Very small.  After the proprietress showed us around, she brought us to our rooms where we mistakenly walked right in with our slippered feet.  Silly us.  You take the inside slippers off before you enter the bedroom. (You also take them off before entering the bathroom too. There are usually separate slippers provided for these rooms.) The japanese must have deep seeded fears of their feet getting cold.

The room was really cute. There were two sliding doors to get in, acting as a shoe-chamber.  On the opposite side of the (very humble) room was the window that overlooked the streets and the river.  For insulation I presume, there were four different screens to slide open before you reached daylight.

They also gave you robes to wear while you were there, and in the halls you’d see the other guests shuffling around in them. Very different than what we’re used to. I’m glad we got to experience it.

Jon is, of course, much too tall for everything here. (the sticker says “mind your head” but is chin-height for him!)

Now that we’re settled in, we head off to explore a bit. We’re at a bit of an impasse with our eating establishments. We like to eat at challenging restaurants. Places with character. We like to allow the chef to cook for us, what s/he cooks best. I think in america, this is well accepted and is a mark of pride for a lot of great chefs. In japan, it’s tricky. We WANT to eat at the good places, that are frequented by the locals. But honestly, they scare the shit out of us. Logically we know that the worst that can happen is they tell us to go away (there aren’t any anti-racism laws here). But even assuming we get in the restaurant, it’s really difficult to convey that we WILL eat whatever you put in front of us – just make it good. you know? ugh. I get frustrated and tangential about this.

The point of the story is that we heard of this particular restaurant. Armed with a general idea of its location, and the proper kanji to look for on the store-sign, we actually found it. And then we stood outside for a few minutes, paced, and tried to work up the courage to go in. It sounds stupid, I know. But imagine that you’re standing at an essentially unmarked door that very well looks like it could go into someone’s living room. Inside you hear salarymen laughing loudly, having a great time in what is very likely a 10 foot square room. You know that as soon as you slide open the door, all eyes will go to you and, because you’re a 25 year old white girl, they’ll probably keep staring at you.

Okay. so we do it. Open the door…. and the place is PACKED. There are people everywhere. The chef (who speaks some english) tells us their full – he’s very sorry. bah!

After battling with some disappointment issues, we finally head off to our second choice – kura, who’s known for their local specialty basashi, or raw and thinly sliced horse meat.

I also had some taru-sake (aged in cedar so it has a really manly, smoky, woodsy quality) out of the traditional wooden box, or masu.

Dinner was good. I wouldn’t call it earth shattering or ground breaking, but it was good.

Tomorrow we get to the main attraction, but this was our sneak-peak for the night:

In the morning, we came downstairs and had breakfast.  Japanese breakfast is very different from American style breakfast.  From top left to right you have: tamago (baked egg – kind of like french toast without the bread), a place for soy sauce, nori (the sushi-seaweed), char (fish), snap pea in soybean, a dish for rice, tsukemono (pickled vegetables), and miso soup.

wait, what was that? yes. a whole grilled fish for breakfast. he’s a cute little guy and he was cuter in my belly.

After our (coffee-less) breakfast we left our ryokan (view from the outside)…

… and set off to see The Castle.  This was, after all, the purpose for the journey. 

The town of matsumoto is largely centered around the castle, so it’s a quick walk from nearly everywhere downtown.  We happened to be staying about 6 blocks away.  At 8:30am it opens up to tourists, who are allowed to shuffle in their stockinged feet through the six floors and three connected towers. 

There are placards in both English and Japanese along the way, explaining what each room was used for and who may have stayed there.  Since there were very few living quarters, it seems that this particular castle was largely used as a military stronghold.

It’s hard to imagine samurai in full armor clambering up and down the steep and narrow staircases – Clumsy-Michelle had to take it *really* slow. I had always pictured samurais to be tall, swift and elegant. Jon had to be extra careful not to hit his head. Lumpy-head speaks all languages:

After wandering around the inside, we headed on to explore the castle grounds. There were hundreds of women dressed up in Kimonos attending some sort of tea ceremony. We still have no idea what it was for, but it’s quite the sight to see.

Looks like we’ll have a beautiful, hangover-free day of picture taking ahead of us.

These are the directions: A 5-minute walk from Matsumoto Railway Kamikochi line Shimonii station. You are looking for a tall brick chimney; off the platform, over the track & turn left. Follow this road around the fields, to the back of the brewery.

Sounded good. We boarded the rickety local train with confidence (see above) and not until we got to Shimonii station did we realize the directions were very vague and we were in the middle of no where. We’re going to to ahead and call this the “heartland”.

As jon and I wandered down these empty country roads, admiring the scenery and gazing on the farmers, we started to wonder… “are we lost?”. Eventually we found what we were looking for, though i have to say it was nothing short of a lucky break.

We actually walked into someone’s driveway before we found the right spot. I’m sure these heartland farmers don’t get a lot of white-folk knocking on their door asking for booze. It’s a good thing we realized our mistake before it was too late!

Let’s recap the scene. Jon and I have walked a ways down a curvy-country highway to the back of a (seemingly) deserted barn. Our plan is now to ask the Japanese proprietor for … tour? Clearly we’re out of our minds.

So you can imagine how grateful we were when there was someone (an owner) who spoke English. Even though it wasn’t the brewery tour we were looking for, it was still really interesting. She took us around her house. the house where her grandparents grew up and her family had been making sake for years and years.

I learned some interesting things. #1. Daikoku is the large pillar in the center, holding up the house. It’s the support beam. It also became the word for the central figure (usually the dad) of the household. Daikoku is also 1 of the 7 lucky gods. So you could say something like “she’s the dakoku-bashira of the company” if you wanted to point out how rockstar someone was.

#2. This is a sugidama, which is a traditional store-sign for sake houses! “What’s that”, you ask? “Tell me more”, you demand! Well of course! Japanese history lesson for the day: When new sake is ready, a fresh, green sugidama is hung. The family that owns the brewery (or sake shop) will make it by hand out of cedar boughs. (sugi is cedar, dama is ball). This green ball outside the door signifies to the neighborhood that the sake was well made and also calls for the blessing of the gods. As the year goes on, the sake ages and the sugidama browns.

After the tour they let us taste all of their sakes and we brought a ton home with us. We heart sake.

The plan is to catch the train back and take it to the woodblock-print museum. We miss the train by literally 30 seconds. This was my penance for not running every day in the morning, as I should be. I have quickly reverted to “horribly out of shape”. Sigh.

So. We walked. It’s only about a mile and a half and it looks like a clear shot.

As I mentioned, our destination was the Ukiyo-e woodblock print museum.

It was supposed to be *incredible*.

After seeing it though I’d say it was just so-so. Not really worth a special effort to get there, but cool to see if you’re in the neighborhood. The most notable part of the experience was the exterior of the building, though it was interesting to listen to the (bilingual) curator talk about the process and the history.

Back on the train. This is the smallest train station I’ve ever been to. But i have to say – Japan is the most incredible place ever for having reliable public transportation even in the country.

I had planned a relaxing afternoon in the park: a sake-fueled picnic, lazing on the grass, playing scrabble. There would be birds chirping and the sun shining gently overhead. (cue record-scratching “eerrrrcccchhh”.)

Oh, that’s right. We’re in Tokyo. Tokyo, where the parks are chock-filled with people and they don’t really have grass. When visiting a park in the largest city in the world, it’s important to realign your expectations, lest you be terribly disappointed.

Now don’t get me wrong, we did have a spectacular time. But there were no frolicking squirrels.

After our concrete-filled scrabble and sake session, we wandered around the park for a bit. I must tell you again how much I love drinking in public. I think it’s solely because you suckas back home can’t walk down the street with a beer in one hand and a camera in the other, looking at temples. Kind of like jumping on the bed when you’re an adult. Or eating ice cream for breakfast. (All of which has ended poorly for me in the recent past, so perhaps I should heed my own warnings!)

At the shrines, you can buy small wooden placards for 5 or 6 dollars, and then you write your prayers on them and hang them on this wall. Once a week, the shinto priest will gather them all and bless them. Generally, they’re all written in Japanese, so it’s hard to understand what sorts of things people wish for. Luckily for me, Ueno park was a hot-bed of white people this weekend.

The sakura season is fleeting. There are really only a handful of glory days and then it’s gone. I feel like the historic, war-torn Japanese were very aware of their mortality and so this is symbolic in some way. Jon and I visited a castle in Kyoto where they would not plant maple trees because, while the leaves were beautiful most of the year, the way they fell in the autumn reminded the samurai of their own deaths. There were only evergreens allowed in the inner courtyards.

This is how I think of Elizabeth:

The obligatory shot for our mothers:

Not that Jon necessarily minded, but was this girl wearing just-knickers? Where are your clothes, young lady?

I’ve been working especially hard on finding my calm center in the past few months. It was my new-years-resolution of sorts. Of course I’m not there yet, but I feel on my way to zen – I’m now more able to seek out these moments of quiet in the middle of an otherwise chaotic day:

My hair is longer than it’s been in years. Which is nice because it’s kind of different than usual, but I’d like something a little spunkier, you know? You think I can rock this shorty-style? Or would I look just absurd?

/end girly rant.