Moment which defines the realization that one is truly in a foreign country: Japanese toilets. These are literally porcelain-lined holes in the ground. There is no grab bar. Often, there is no toilet paper provided even in the finest department stores. There is, however, a little button to push which plays the sound of water running. I don't know if this is to cover up the horrid sounds of toilet usage, or is some form of encouragement.

Our trip to Japan was an ideal combination of the strange and the comfortable. John and I visited Tsukuba and Kyoto in 1996, so we didn't have any culture shock problem this time around. Still, Japan is very different, and some of the differences are none too subtle. This is not a country that uses English reliably. Oh, you can believe the railway station signs, and the directions in the subway, all that sort of thing. But English used for advertising will lead you astray. Take, for instance, "Silky Sun Lotion." You may think you're buying suntan lotion, but it could just as easily be hemorrhoid cream, or shampoo, unless you check for SPF numerals. You can't tell by the name.

On the other hand, the use of English is often inadvertently hilarious. I was impressed by the can of green tea which desired my reruxation, and the t-shirt done in the familiar Pepsi logo which clearly spelled out "Penis." I drank Blendy coffee which I bought at Let's Kiosk! And of course there is my favorite new baseball team, the Nippon Ham Fighters.

Moment which defines the realization that one is a clod from the provinces: any street in the Ginza. I could not have been more obviously a tourist if I'd worn a muumuu and flip flops the entire time. In my home town of San Francisco, one does not look gauche in a plain navy t-shirt and navy blue slacks accessorized with navy flats. In Tokyo, one looks as though one had recently disembarked from a turnip truck.

We did rather well in our choice of restaurants, considering we picked them all at random. It takes some nerve, I promise you, to walk down an alley, plunge down a stairwell at night, and open a door to what you hope is a restaurant, then choose your meal based entirely on photographs. Over the course of a week we had one so-so and two truly excellent sushi dinners, two yummy Italian pasta dinners, a furtive visit to McDonald's, and a classic experience with oden. This Salaryman favorite is food rolled into balls, or sliced up, or fitted on a stick and boiled in a savoury soup. Great for soaking up a night's worth of sake indulgence, I'm sure. John had squid and beef marrow. I had an egg, a potato, and what I think was daikon.

It was hot and muggy the whole time we were there. I got a tan, which surprised me. I lost a couple pounds, which didn't surprise me. I invariably get a lot more exercise on vacation than I do at home. Between climbing the hills of Nikko and the multiple stairways of the subway system I got a great aerobic workout daily.

Moment which defines the realization that one is a geezer: the corner of Harajuku Station and Yoyogi Park on a Sunday morning. The teenagers gather by the dozens, and they are dressed fantastically in every sense of the word. White kabuki makeup, 7 inch platform shoes, girls and boys outfitted as louche nurses, French maids, rock gods, anime characters, superheros, babydolls; a swirling mass of Goth, science fiction, and glam. I took lots of photos, and felt like someone's mom.

I made a point of visiting several gardens, but with one exception I wasn't terribly impressed. The gardens of Kyoto are astonishing and beautiful; the gardens of Tokyo are a bit bland in comparison. We got up our first morning and took a subway to a recommended destination (later discovering we could just as easily have walked) and strolled over to the Hamarikyu garden. It got good write-ups in the guidebook, but aside from the lake view it wasn't much. Nothing at all was blooming except a few indifferent azaleas. From there we caught the water ferry to Asakusa, and this was an excellent choice. We enjoyed the cooling breezes of Tokyo Bay while flowing along a canal under some stunning bridges, a delightful method of transportation.

Asakusa itself was quite interesting with the enormous gates and ancient shrines lying at the end of rows of stalls selling every souvenir you could possibly want. There were approximately three million twelve thousand eight hundred and nine schoolchildren wandering around, taking group photos, buying sweets, and shrieking in adolescent giddiness. To avoid repeating myself, I ask that you simply add this mental image to every mention of a shrine, temple, garden, path, store, and train. There are perpetual shoals of schoolchildren at all times of day no matter where you are. It's a wonder they get an education, what with wandering around clotting up the place.

On Day 3 we took the train to Kamakura, about one hour south of Tokyo and home to a gigantic Buddha statue. We dutifully visited the Tsurugaoka Hachimangu shrine, trundling through a double row of antiquated cherry trees, gawking at a 1,000 year old gingko tree where someone famous was assassinated but I can't remember which king or prince it was, and hiked up many stairs to photograph the carvings and torii of the shrine. Then we trundled back and caught a cute little train to Hase to view the Daibutsu in his enormous glory. Don't forget the image of the schoolkids. John and I photographed each other in front of the statue. I bought many, many postcards here.

One of the shrines down the road from the big Buddha is devoted to Jizo statues. Jizo Bosatsu is popularly believed to be the guardian deity of dead or lost children, including aborted fetuses, and these ubiquitous roadside icons are often clothed in red bibs and tiny knitted hats. There were hundreds of them at Hasedera. I had tears in my eyes at the sight of so many; next to me, a school group from Britain was gigglingly pointing them out and taking photographs of the "funny statues." I'm not smug about this, though, because on my previous visit to Japan I photographed some old stone Jizo statues not knowing what they were. I did not take any photos this time.

Moment which defines the realization that you can't get there from here: I had a guidebook with very specific addresses for a toy store, a restaurant, and a gift shop which I wanted to find. The toy store was on the entirely other side of town from where I thought it was, I never found the restaurant, and the gift shop had both a different address and a different name when I eventually tracked it down. The only comfort is that even Tokyoites find their city addresses confusing. An address like 8-8-11 Ginza, Chuo-ku doesn't mean it's on Ginza Street. There's no such thing. It's giving you the ward (Chuo-ku), the district (Ginza), the chome (an arbitrary collection of blocks), the block number, and the actual storefront number. You have to work out which bit of the Ginza is the 8th chome, figure out which direction the eighth block is, and then wander around the entire block looking for building 11. Buildings are numbered according to when they were built, not their relative location on the street. I though my head was going to explode.

Every evening we watched lots of TV. CNN was the default channel, although since the only big news was the coup in Fiji and the shooting of journalists in Sierra Leone we were quickly depressed by it, and turned to the incomprehensible but infinitely funny Japanese game shows. Some humor is global, especially when it comes to men wearing velcro outfits flinging themselves onto velcro-covered walls. John and I wailed with laughter over one show that announced winners and losers as Cleared! or Not Cleared!! (exclamation points exact). Sounded like Scientology was involved.

On Day 6 we hoved off to Nikko via the Tobu Spacia line, a special nonstop train which was spacious, comfortable, and expensive. It took the better part of two hours, the second half of which was beautiful as we wound our way through rice paddies, hills, and rural splendor. Nikko is in the Japanese Alps and there are many hot springs and ski resorts nearby. We took a local bus to the Shinkyo, or Sacred Bridge, which is the approved starting point for visiting the important shrines and temples of the area. Alas, the bridge was completely covered in plastic for repairs. You could tell it would have been picturesque as hell, situated as it is over a foaming river among tall pines. We hiked up, and up, and up, and paid our money, and hiked up, and up, and up.

We saw all the shrines, Buddhist and Shinto alike. We took off our shoes to visit some of the interiors. The Twilight Gate is as amazing as the guidebooks say (you can sit from sunrise to twilight just looking at it, it's so fantastically carved). I was delighted to see the carvings of the three wise monkeys. The central panel has them in their See No Evil, Hear No Evil, Speak No Evil pose. The other panels were just as delightful. They're on a stable which contains a sacred white horse. We saw him. He was eating hay. Apparently, he does his duty of being sacred for four hours a day at the ancient monkey stable, then gets to go down to a modern stable for the rest of the day. Not a bad life.

I saw girls wearing 4, 5, and 6 inch platform shoes tottering all over the gravel paths of Nikko. Honestly, I don't know why some of them didn't fall off and break their necks. Talk about the wrong shoes for mountain visits! But that's me, the clod from the provinces in my sensible sturdy shoes. I may have been comfortable, but they were stylish, and that's what mattered to them.

Don't forget the schoolchildren.

We went to the tiny Japanese style garden at the bottom of the hill. It was very pretty, but again there were no flowers in bloom, and the road noises from the other side of the wall spoiled any tranquility which might have normally been associated with it. There was a much better Japanese style garden at Hasedera in Kamakura, with many wildflowers, a wonderfully refreshing stream, and lots of koi. The only other gardens that impressed me were the Eastern Imperial Gardens on the grounds of the Imperial Palace. Oh, the iris beds! Oh, the undulating mounds of clear pink azaleas! Even the koi were impressive, their colors so fresh and unusual that I suddenly understood why people bred them and collected them.

Moment which defines the realization that the Japanese make the best toys in the world: the plush Easter Island moai heads we discovered at Hakuhinkan Toy Park on our last day, a four story toy store in the Ginza. They came in four different sizes, and two colors. John had to have one, of course. It's the cutest thing. There was a huge selection of Totoro plush toys, of course, but I already had my Totoro and Nekobasu. (Pause to rave about the video 'My Neighbor Totoro' which all fans of comics and cartoons should watch. It's beautiful, charming, and the catbus is the very coolest vehicle in the world. This is an outstanding animated story.)

On the third floor I found 'Mutts' stuff, to my great delight, and bought a wonderful small plastic Mooch dangle which I promptly attached to my purse. Everyone in Japan has straps and dangles on cell phones, purses, backpacks, and anything with a loop. I went nuts buying toys, and only tore myself away when I remembered I wanted to check out a porcelain store in Hibiya. I bought a beautiful hand-painted vase of the Satsuma variety, a thin, glassy crackle effect setting off the delicate wisteria blooms and chrysanthemums in purple, red, blue, and 18 carat gold. I wish I'd bought the hummingbird teacup, but at the time I just couldn't justify spending several hundred dollars. Now I regret not doing it. It's hard having such good taste!

And then we packed our treasures, had a last sushi meal, mailed our postcards, and came home.

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