Follow the grannies

Facebook pics of probably the single best stroll garden I've ever visited. It's Ginkakuji, inexplicably better known for a giant mound of sand representing Mt. Fuji. (I understand the theory behind sand gardens and rocks that represent things, but aesthetically they leave me cold.)

I appreciate the compliments on my photography, but a garden like this makes it easy. It frames a bunch of shots for you, and gives strong hints on composition for the rest. The leaves there had partially turned, with a few sprays of maple leaves at their full intensity, a bright translucent red like the juice of a maraschino cherry.

I am now in Tokyo, staying at the Airbnb of Setsuko and her mini poodle Piccolo. Setsuko worked in Santa Monica for a year (!) and met me at the station with Piccolo in tow.

"So, are you an otaku?" she asked.

"Umm, I guess a little bit, sort of, well actually I only started watching anime because I wanted to learn Japanese, OKAY YES," I replied.

When we arrived at her apartment she took off her jacket, revealing a T-shirt of Princess Leia and Chewbacca dancing a la Beauty and the Beast.

"Ah-ha!" I exclaimed. "Are YOU an otaku?"

"Umm, I guess a little bit..."

She has directed me to a "granny neighborhood" where I can find traditional Japanese goods like hanten, and a park where there should be some good leaf peeping. Ominously, there are no specific directions to the park other than "a ten-minute walk from the train station" and "a hidden gem," plus notes from tourists saying things like "very poor signage" and "hard to find," and one outlier claiming, "it's a large park, you can't miss it." (I have never not gotten lost when looking for things of which people say "You can't miss it.")

Setsuko said of finding the traditional neighborhood, "When you get off the train, just follow the grannies."

I missed the grannies...

...because I was busy enjoying an amazing free street concert, by a group of musicians playing rock on classical Japanese instruments! The men (on taiko drums and shakuhachi (Japanese flute) wore jeans, shirts, and sneakers, and the women (on shamisen and koto) were in kimono and geta (wooden sandals). All of them rocking out. I have never heard anything like it, and it was fantastic. I was sitting on the curb right behind the taiko drummer.

This was at Kagurazaka, a neighborhood I never heard of before, in Tokyo's French quarter, which I had not known existed. It was blocked off for pedestrians, and lined with cafes, restaurants, and cool little shops. I had crepes Suzette for the first time in my life, flamed at the table by an elderly French waiter. When I walked in he addressed me in French, but I gave him such a panicked look that he switched to Japanese. (Some of you may recall my half-hearted attempt to learn French after getting all the "I look forward to speaking THE FRENCH with you in Paris" letters from my mother's Parisian Baba-lover friend. Literally all I remember is "bonjour.")

Tomorrow I have a kaiseki lunch at Kozue, on the 40th floor of the Tokyo Park Hyatt. This was masterminded by Setsuko, who knows the chef! This is a very famous posh restaurant and a splurge, but not as much as it could be due to it being lunch.