Welcome back! As you recall, in mid-May, I took off for Japan. Click here for Part 1 of the adventure if you missed it. If you're ready for Part 2, then here we go….

In my last entry, I had just ventured on my own into the wonderful world of Japan. My first "lone" stop was Tokyo DisneySea, where I had to hop on the trains to Shinjuku Station and find the bus to the resort all on my own. Now that sounds like a very small deal, but when you're in a country where people are generally shy about speaking English and there's minimal signage in your language, it gets intimidating. Not to mention that Shinjuku Station is crazy. Tidal waves of people.

At any rate, let's move on. I spent the next couple of weeks doing a mixture of things: having a great time with Scott and Joy, my fellow San Diegan hosts, venturing off on mini-trips on my own, and working on a couple of new story ideas from my home base of Sagamihara. The pictures will be our guide for this round.…

Let's allow this picture to symbolize the new love of my life: karaoke. Like many of you, I promised myself that I would never sing in public. But, by the time I went back to the States, I was addicted to the mic. I'm telling you, I am such a chanteuse. Naturally, it's easy to be one when you've rented a little karaoke "box" (above, with Joy, our lovely hostess). This is how my transformation from Little Voice to Big Echo goes: One night, Joy and Scott led me into this tiny abode located on a quiet, dark street. Behind the door was a "snack bar," where you could eat everything from salad to tempura to potato chips and sing songs with other people from the neighborhood. On the table was a thick catalog of musical choices. (The English section was woefully small, but I'm not complaining.) Then, you could pop the number of your song into the remote, pick up a wireless mic, and wail away. The second night we went to another snack bar; once inside, the "mama-sans" (women who make you feel right at home) brought us drinks and eats. Other people in the bar liked to request certain songs from Scott and Joy since they were regulars at the place. It's interesting to note that no matter how awful you sing, the Japanese will make you feel like you're Whitney Houston. They'll applaud during a particularly challenging portion of the song, egging you on. There's no failure in Japanese karaoke. We started going to these private boxes where you could be such a rock star. If there was a song you were too shy to sing in a snack bar, you'd rip into it in the box. You can hit as many bad notes as an ear can detect. On my final night in Japan, Scott, Joy, and I performed a rousing rendition of "Bohemian Rhapsody" and, with all due respect to Queen, I know there'll never be a better performance. <wishful thinking drips from the phrase>

Somewhere between my first couple of karaoke attempts and my fulfillment as a total song goddess came my "big solo trip." I headed to Kyoto on a bullet train and holed up for three nights in a Western-style Japanese hotel called The New Miyako. The place gave me what I needed: a bathroom that resembled a glorified port-a-potty (but much, MUCH cleaner) and beds that came up to my knees (and, truthfully, I'm not what you'd call an amazon). That first day, since it was raining, I became well acquainted with the Kyoto Train Station, a mammoth spaceship-looking complex that contains at least two shopping malls along with numerous train depots. But the next day I made up for it. I'd enjoyed all the tours and museums I'd been on so far, but there was still one drawback: None of them had been in English. I was missing all the nuances of my sightseeing, and I desperately longed for a tour in my language so I could appreciate the details. Thus, I took an all-day bus tour of Kyoto with other tourists.

The first place we visited was Nijo Castle. After walking through one of the elegant gates (left), we doffed our shoes and entered the palace (below). Kyoto was Japan's ancient capital before it was moved to Tokyo, and the emperor used to hold court at Nijo. Word has it that the man was paranoid, and one of the palace's features proves this. As we trod the wooden floors, they squeaked like a flock of disturbed birds. Come to find out that this was called a "Nightingale Floor" because of the distinct sounds it was constructed to make; when the emperor and his bodyguards heard the floor protesting, they were alerted to intruders creeping up on them. As I toured the grounds, a clutter of tiny Japanese children with yellow beanies swarmed the area; they were on a field trip. One approached me with a mini textbook and spoke very good English: "Hello, my name is Ichiume Midori, and I am a student. May I speak English with you?" She proceeded to ask me questions, and I answered. She recognized the words "pizza" and "baseball." After asking for my picture to be taken with her, she made the peace sign and scuttled away. I'm really sad that I didn't get my own picture with her, but I had to dart to my departing tour bus before it left me as a permanent part of the displays.

Our second stop was the Golden Pavilion (Kinkakuji Temple).

Isn't it incredible? The area was surrounded by Japanese gardens, mini shrines, and a small tourist-aimed marketplace with packaged souvenirs. I have to say that this was my favorite stop; it was so peaceful and gorgeous that I didn't want to leave. Imagine having this as your backyard. If only.

Next, you'll see our tour guide, Kaz.

He's standing in front of the Imperial Palace. We weren't able to go inside, but the grounds included an incredible Japanese garden--a pond (above). How low would your blood pressure be if you had views like this?

After having lunch at a massive souvenir center (What did I buy? Three guesses… You've got it: Very big, heavy books. Genius. Like I can't get those at home. But my reading appetite had been whetted so what could I do?), we went to the Heian Shrine.

Yes, I was shocked by the red paint, too. One important thing I learned is that shrines concern the Shinto religion while temples are Buddhist. Those are the two major religions of Japan. You'll see another beautiful garden (above). This one features stepping stones. I was afraid to cross them, being such a magnificent klutz, but somehow I made it over without gaining the distinction of being only one of nine people per year who eat it and fall in the water. I am so happy I didn't get a mouthful of moss-laced water for dessert.

The tour continued with trips to Sanjusangendo Hall and Kiyomizu Temple. Needless to say, by the end of the tour, I was exhausted. Not necessarily in a physical way, but mentally. When you're in a new place, it takes a lot of energy to absorb everything you're exposed to. Thus, I decided to eat whatever I wanted that night. Isn't that an awesome excuse to pig out?

Yes, I'm ashamed to admit that this was my dinner (on my shrunken New Miyako bed, no less)--a mixture of convenience store grub and souvenir junk food. I just want to point out that there's a salad on the bottom left, okay? That validates every single empty calorie I consumed, just like if you order Diet Coke with a Big Mac. You'll also notice the sweets. Pucca is one of my favorites. I wasn't sure I'd like it at first: a pretzel coating covering a hunk of chocolate or, in this case, strawberry frosting. But YUUUUUMMMM. You put one into your mouth, you need to throw the whole bag of Pucca into the old yapper, too. I also tried some kind of famous Kyoto candy that's associated with maiko (apprentice geishas). It's sweet bean paste surrounded by a pocket of rice jelly stuff . Not my favorite, but interesting. See the cheese twists? Very appetizing--just like they are in America, but the Japanese writing makes these much more exotic. Clearly, because they were foreign food, I was required to sample them.

The next day, I took another foreigner-oriented tour. It was convenient since I really, really wanted to go to Mikimoto's Pearl Island to see the divers. (One character from a possible future book works as an ama, a pearl diver, and it was all about the research. And, uh, the pearls. Yes, I am a female and therefore addicted to pretty things.) After a smooth, lovely two-hour train ride, we arrived in Toba.

Here is a glimpse of the amas of Pearl Island. They don't work like this anymore--now they wear wet suits and they don't gather pearls because those are cultured. As the women dived for up to a minute, they surfaced and made a strange whistling noise. We were assured that this was normal, though still alarming. Supposedly this whistling helped their lungs. I then lusted after the pearls and continued to the Ise Jingu shrine.

Today's tour was much smaller than yesterday's--six people. Three Romanian women, a British couple, and me. Guess who was the last one out of the pearl shop? Anyway, our guide, Manami (above), was wonderful about tolerating all my weird writer's questions. (What if a pearl diver got stuck underwater? What if a foreigner was suspected of murder in Japan--what would happen--huh, huh?) Here, she's standing by the Isuzu River within the grounds of the shrine. This is one of the purifying stations before nearing the actual shrine, which we weren't allowed to take pictures of. Ise Jingu is Japan's most popular shrine, and it carries an air of the sacred about it. The trees are revered, and each piece of gravel you step on represents a soul that will purify you on your journey to the shrine. In the above picture, you'll see the entrance, but that's the closest you'll get with your camera out.

I just had to stick this one in. Aren't the colors great? My new digital camera is the best. Check out that huge carp in the middle--the golden one. He scared me.

I arrived back at Joy and Scott's place and, soon, we were off to the heart of Tokyo. After checking into the Hyatt Century Tokyo, which overlooks Shinjuku-chua (a central park which will be featured in a possible new Bombshell….), we hit the town. We decided to find a restaurant in Ebisu, amidst the paper lantern-lit alleys. The choice of restaurants is astounding. Seriously, a food addict will go into spasms of ecstasy when faced with all the choices. We settled on a second-floor eatery with subtle lighting, brick walls, and jazz playing softly in the background. The low, amoebae-shaped tables held every single dish we ordered: grilled duck salad, raw tuna and other assorted sashimi, raw kobe beef, sangria, and martinis.

Witness this cool, artsy picture taken of me in the restaurant. Some might say that we messed up this pic while taking it, but I prefer to think that the crazy lighting and overexposure was done to great aesthetic effect.

Now we come to something I wish everyone on earth could experience. If you ever go to Japan, I hope you can manage to stay in a ryokan. This is a traditional Japanese hotel, where you receive service from a personal maid and must follow a strict set of guest rules. I'd say that this was the biggest challenge of my trip. That sounds very dorky, but I was anxious about representing foreigners in a good light and nailing every custom.

My ryokan was located in Hakone, and I decided to stay there for one night. Hakone is known for its natural beauty and hot springs and, though I intended to explore, I never left the ryokan. When I entered the house and shed my tennis shoes for slippers, then followed the owner on a short tour of the house, I knew that I needed to stay inside and experience the full wonder of this cultural adventure. After being shown the hot baths and the gardens, she led me to my room. There's a small sitting area where you leave your slippers because there's no walking on the main room's tatami mats (rice mats) with anything but socks or bare feet. She showed me a sort of "cheat sheet" with hints about how to stay in a ryokan (Yes, it's that involved.), and bid me to sit and wait for my maid while sipping green tea and gnawing on a jelly-like candy (below).

In the following pictures, you'll see the "chair"; it's merely a cushion with a straight back. I went a little nuts trying to get a picture of every view, but this will give you an idea of why I wanted to stay inside and read the whole night. See the garden? My room was pretty much a bridge that cut through the middle of it. Imagine sitting there, drinking tea while listening to the rain tapping on the leaves and smelling the greenery mixed with the humidity.

My maid entered and introduced herself, presenting a questionnaire about when I'd like to be fed and when I'd like to check out. At this point, I found out that she spoke no English whatsoever. Oh. My. God. I did have my phrase book, so while she disappeared for a moment, I madly learned new phrases. Though this could've thrown me off, it was a nice challenge and one of the reasons I wanted to come to Japan. Why go to a foreign culture if you're not going to absorb it? At any rate, I dressed in my yukata (robe) and started reading Confessions of a Yakuza while discovering that the room's miniature TV accessed no English channels.

Here's my attempt to capture a full-on yukata. Remember--I hate having my picture taken, so this was pure torture.

After I experienced a hot bath (a strict procedure in itself), the maid served my meal. Everything runs like clockwork in Japan--the trains, the service…everything. My meal arrived precisely at 6:00 pm. As you can see, it was a work of art.

First serving:

Mostly, I'm not sure what I ate, but I went for it. These are the items I know I ingested:
Tofu, ume (plum) wine, and sashimi, which included raw tuna. I was so taken by the arrangement of this particular dish that I had to take a close up.

Shrimp, beef-wrapped asparagus, and…I just don't know. But nothing made me retch, so that was excellent.

The next serving looked like this:

I know there was fish broth, scallops, and smoked fish in there. Again, all digestible and rather yummy. But I was getting full. However, I still had more coming…

Rice, miso soup, pickled stuff, tempura veggies and shrimp. At this point, the old tummy was screaming at me to stop already. But the meal continued with a delicious honeydew melon. That's one thing about the produce in Japan: you'll never taste anything better. The country pays top dollar for the best. You can eat a $5.00 peach and never regret the money you spent. Of course, there are peaches that cost much more, but you'll probably die from ultimate satisfaction after eating one.

Here's a word of advice if you stay at a ryokan--don't drink too much green tea. As I settled down for a good night's sleep…

…after my maid set up my futon/bed, I couldn't bow to the god of slumber. I tossed and turned all night because I was so jacked up on caffeine. Chalk one up for the learning process, I guess.

I had a traditional Japanese breakfast, but I have to say I didn't enjoy it as much as the dinner. I was pretty sure I ate some worms, but after I described the dish to Joy, she thought it might have been tentacles instead. That wasn't a much better option. Basically, I tried all the dishes, but I mainly ate the miso soup and rice. I longed for Pucca.

Then it was time for my second bath, this time in the rock room. I must note that they like their water very, VERY hot.

Afterward, it was check out time. Just a note: If you're interested in staying in one of these places, I booked through a good website: www.japaneseguesthouses.com. There wasn't even a hitch, and I had a great time. Check out the site. <G>

There's so much more I wish I could share, pages and pages of details I wrote in my journal. Hidden bars we discovered on the Tokyo side streets where we sipped champagne and watched as the mist mingled with the black of the atmosphere. A dance club faded by time and decadence where hundreds of celebrity pictures lined the stairs leading down to the floor itself. An old man with three teeth who smiled and reached out to touch my hair in Shinjuku Train Station. Every second of this trip was a step in enlightenment, and I hope you all experience something like it in your lives. Special thanks to Scott and Joy for being great people and incredible, tolerant hosts. You guys are the best!

So until my next hyperchick adventure, cheers. : )