November Chrysanthemums

Quick! Before November ends, I had better write about this year's crop of Chrysanthemums (kiku in Japanese). The crest of the imperial family, kiku hold a special place among flora in Japan. But, as in many parts of the world, Japan also regards kiku as November's flower. And in their honor, magnificent exhibitions of the prize-winning plants are put on display every year at parks and other venues around town.







Before I saw one of these annual displays, I was quite indifferent to the densely petalled flowers. But now they dazzle me and no year is complete without a proper kiku viewing. Though the colors do not stray too far from the conventional yellow, white, pink or lavender, the unimaginable range of styles and shapes of displays -- bonsai miniatures to veritable cascades -- always move me. I am particularly partial to the solitary globes. Measuring a meter or more in height, some of these plants look like large softballs supported by leafy stems. Others resemble well-coiffed poodles.











I saw all of these perfect specimens at one of my favorite exhibits held at Hibiya Park, kitty-corner from the Imperial Palace and across the street from the Imperial Hotel. Laid out in the Meiji Period (late 19th century), the park's symmetrical plan, elegant promenades, wide flower beds and plazas punctuated by exuberant fountains were modeled after European precedents. The park's formality is the perfect backdrop for the luscious blooms.

Umbrella Shrug

While we're on the subject of umbrellas ... This is a rather peculiar invention. Designed to prevent umbrella confusion (or swiping) and promote more comfortable umbrella carrying, this is a neoprene cover that slips over the umbrella's hooked handle. On more than one occasion I have mistakenly absconded with someone else's umbrella or mine has mysteriously disappeared from a public receptacle. "Hard to lose", "Happy" and a "Llittle bit stylish," a Shrug could be just the thing.

Here, There & Everywhere

OK, I won't.

Umbrella Bag Rant

Today's rant is about disposable umbrella covers, those long, skinny, single use, vinyl bags whose dispensers (pictured above) come trotting out at the slightest drizzle. While I appreciate Japanese fastidiousness when it comes to unwanted water, I can not applaud the overuse of vinyl bags or the accompanying tsukai suteru (use and lose) mentality. Reader, this wasteful and environmentally unfriendly situation warrants attention.

To Japan's credit, the eco-bag trend seems to be taking root. At least at the stores I frequent. And I sense an increase in public bathrooms equipped with those supersonic hand dryers that practically suck the water right off the skin. Surely this is better than paper towels, yes? Best of all are the washrooms that provide no hand drying mechanisms whatsoever. Though it is a bit of a bother to whip out a hankie or pocket towel with wet hands, one gets used to it (or in this case re-use to it since this practice has been around a long time). But when it comes to wet umbrellas and their bags, change is slow.

Let's backtrack for a moment. As I may have mentioned in a previous post, people in Japan love umbrellas. Myself included. I am certain that I carry an umbrella far more frequently here than I do in the US. This is partly because it rains more in Japan (I think). And when it does rain, I simply take an umbrella cover from the discard pile and re-use it, if I need to go inside a store, office or other public facility. Not ideal, but better than the alternatives. I am waiting for someone to design an appealing and reusable umbrella cover. The old lady version already exists but it is not a big seller. Why doesn't someone do for the umbrella bag what was done for the shopping bag?



Given my strong feelings on the subject, you can imagine my elation when a friend and I encountered this umbrella drying device at the entrance to a Ginza eat-and-drink building. It consists of felt panels arranged radially to wipe the umbrella's outer surface and a plastic box to catch the runoff. All it takes is one quick twist of the wrist ... no bags or electricity needed. Please note the conventional umbrella bag dispenser hovering in the background. Was this relative positioning intentional? We stood and watched for a few minutes -- almost no one chose the bag over the dryer.

Uwabaki on Wheels

Putting a new spin on wheelie shoes, this fancy footwear combines two Japanese icons: a pair of uwabaki, the canvas indoor shoes worn by all school kids in Japan, and a soroban or abacus, the traditional precursor to the calculator. I do love a product that knows how to multitask! Spotted at Tokyo Designers' Week, they were created by one Naoko Kusakawa, a student at Mukogawa Women's University.

Castella Tables

This pair of tables looks good enough to eat. Eve spotted them -- giant slabs of Castella cake realized in lacquered wood -- the other day when we visited Gallery Do's Design Tide spin-off exhibit. At first I thought the tables resembled Japanese puring aka custardy pudding. Nothing to get excited about in my book. But when I realized they are Castella cake my mouth began to water. Perfectly proportioned, the tables are a little darker than the real thing but the caramelized yellow color sandwiched between top and bottom layers of brown is actually more appealing than the cake's normal hue.

The tables are the product of a young designer who hails from Nagasaki. He also made the little model boat sitting on top. The boat is a bit finky and detracts from the main event. That said, I certainly appreciate his hometown pride.

There used to be an ancient Castella store in Azabu Juban. Dimly lit, the shop sold only Castella but in a wide variety of shapes and styles, most displayed in their old-fashioned, glass-fronted cases. Though Abby was quite fond of their big seller, a light spongy cake that the proprietor cut from a big slab, it never really floated my boat. Simply put, the cake lacked definition. But during a Golden Week trip to Kyushu a few years ago, I revised my opinion.

One of our main stops was Nagasaki, the birthplace of Castella. Centuries ago Portuguese missionaries introduced the cake (and a few other things, like tempura) to Japan. During our trip we encountered many Castella speciality shops. This inspired us to do a cake rating. I was really surprised by the range -- some were definitely more palatable than others. I gave my highest mark to one with a crunchy, sugary topping. If you used your imagination, it almost evoked the essence of caramel. Though I would not go out of my way to find Castella, I have a certain fondness for the confection as I look back on that wonderful holiday.

Caught in the Act!

So this is how it is done. I have seen worker bees down on their hands and knees diligently scraping the chewing gum off station floors and dutifully polishing escalator handrails while commuters stream on by. But until today, I had never seen anyone clean those raised yellow lines that always seem to be under foot, especially if I am in a hurry and/or wearing heels of any sort.



Leading from platform to ticket wicket, they are intended to aid the visually impaired and remind the rest of us not to tread too close to the edge. Within the yellow strips, the dot pattern means "stop" (as in you are at the top of the stairs) and the dashes indicate "go straight."


The cleaner's dedication and perseverance were nothing short of awe-inspiring. What a contrast to the New York City Subway! I slowed for a moment to admire her handiwork but then slid back into high speed as I made my way to street level.