[narcissism, vanity, exhibitionism, ambition, vanity, vanity, vanity]

9.7.09

Jane: "France Is FUN."

Lots to say about our trip, but I can't say much until I've located the cable to download all the pix, without which I would actually have to write descriptions, making the blog posts much too long. Perhaps the cable is still on vacation.

Some notes:

-- Turin's Egyptology museum begins with an exhibit of a 6,000 year-old corpse buried with full kit for the afterlife. After food and shelter, it seems the first task of civilization is to make sense of death. We have nothing on the ancient Egyptians in this regard. They made thanatology into a glorious art.

-- At the Museum of Cinema in Turin it seems almost possible to dream with your eyes open. Riding the glass elevator to the top of the building is something to do once, but not more than that, and certainly not directly after eating. A restorative campari and soda is available in the cafe when it's over.

-- Did I mention campari and soda?

-- The Piedmontese know how to eat. The hazelnut may be its own food group. Snacks and an aperitif at 6 pm are de rigeur. Snacks are served buffet-style in many places and they are substantial enough to be a meal on their own.

-- The second-floor of the bookstore on the Piazza Vittorio Veneto is quiet, with places to sit, and it is stocked with interesting new titles, including a pamphlet-sized essay, for 3 euros, on the upheavals of 1968 by Erri Deluca which I now regret not buying. The proprietor selects music according to his mood; delightfully, in the middle of a downpour, he played a selection of rain-related songs (including, of course, "Singing in the Rain" and Jovanotti's Piove, which is surprisingly better than anything I've heard by this guy, who has always been a bit of joke between me and MJ, and not only us).

-- The bookstore-cafe is a marvelous thing. So, too, the high-end gelato and sorbet at GROM. The almond (mandorla) granita tasted just like frozen marzipan. Which is probably just what it was. In any case, it was delicious.

-- Don't eat at the Porto di Savona, no matter what the the New York Times says. Instead, take the via Giovanni Plana away from the Piazza Vittorio Veneto to Rubirosa. The pasta dish with frutti di mare -- mussels, clams, squid, shrimp -- was amazing. MJ got a gratis sample of a local favorite, vitello tonnato -- a very thin slice of veal smothered in a tuna-flavored mayonnaise-y sauce -- just because he expressed an interest in it.

-- The overnight train to from Turin to Perpignan was a once-in-a-lifetime sort of thing. Like Sanrio Puroland in Tokyo, it was fun to do -- once. Perhaps twice, but only if you go all the way to Barcelona.

-- The train ride from Montpellier to Paris made me realize how poorly I have understood Van Gogh until now. His landscapes only seem whimsical. Those Dr. Seuss trees and golden haystacks are straight from real life.

-- The Mediterranean really is that blue.

-- While in Paris with children, if you discover a county fair in full swing in the Tuilieries, forget the Louvre. Take the euros you save on museum admission and spend them on tickets to ride the bumper cars and the ferris wheel. Cotton candy is barbe du papa. Expect to be tickled in the Haunted House. Remember, in the 18th century and before, you had to go all the way to the outskirts of town to have this much fun.

-- In Paris, if you find an enticing rare book in an out-of-the-way bookstore on the Rue des Archives but don't have the nerve to buy it, don't worry because it will be waiting for you in the exact same place on the shelf when you return a year later. I love Paris.

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13.4.08

Ma fille, avec biro.


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Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
A cafe, a pen, a notebook. That's my kid, all right.

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A Different Time


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Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
Gryphon at Notre Dame: a suggestion of hell in stone.

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Tucked in an Alcove at the Hôtel de Ville


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Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
The historian Jules Michelet, a guiding spirit. "There I walked, from age to age..."

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29.9.07

Ambivalence


Mountains from the Great Wall
Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
The Great Wall was touristy, and dirty, and buggy, and hot. But this view made it all worth it.

We drove through the countryside for a while on our way back to Beijing. The land is -- or so it seems -- incredibly fertile and it is cultivated intensively. I saw enormous squashes hanging from trellises, huge pumpkins growing in backyard gardens, peaches the size of grapefruits, apple trees loaded with fruit, endless bushels of gourds, and enormous ears of corn in piles on the road. "For the pigs," I was told.

I also saw field laborers sleeping in tents, and hotels that did not have plumbing. The tap water here, as everywhere in China, is not potable. There were factories next to corn fields next to perfectly square lakes where people were fishing. At many attractions, you could get a discount for having a "deformity". It seemed like just about everyone in Beijing was coughing, sniffling, sneezing. A national investment in spittoons would not go amiss. I don't even want to talk about the airport, where it is necessary, upon arrival, to join a crowd of hundreds of other nervous travelers trying to squeeze through a single entryway -- this is "customs" -- before getting to the airline check-in counters. You do this while you are still in view of the road, where cars and trucks are pulling up all the time. Naturally, no one's been checked for weapons or explosives...


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The Great Wall of China


The Great Wall of China
Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
Hot, crowded, dirty, steep, and swarming with gnats.

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Or You Could Just Take the Cable Car

I snapped this one before I saw the sign: PICTURES OF THE CAMEL ARE NOT FREE.

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Dolls for Sale

This was one of the prettiest displays.

The vendors all knew the same English phrases, which they repeated over and over.

"Hello!"
"Remember you!"
"Dollar!"

This soundscape was so strange, like something out of a bad 50s film about the Pacific theater of WWII. It was impossible to really take in the enormity of the Wall as an engineering feat or a piece of history, with all the shouting and huckstering. But, in a way, that was the truth of the experience -- even the Great Wall is as commodifiable as anything else.

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At the Great Wall


Great Wall vendor stalls
Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
We'd been told that the part of the Great Wall we visited, Mutianyu, was less touristy than other places.

Well, it was still pretty touristy. Lots of vendors hawking various souvenirs, including plenty of communist kitsch. Ah, the contradictions of late capitalism.

This bit of the walk up the Great Wall took us up a slope to a cable car, which went all the way up the mountain. The walk was steep and promised to get steeper.

Just after I took this shot, a group of guys came running down the path bearing a man on a stretcher who'd apparently fallen down the Wall. He was bleeding quite a bit from the head.

After he passed, the crowd was quiet for a bit as everyone reconsidered their plans for the day.

An American behind me said, "Be careful..."

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Unscheduled Stop

When we decided to visit the Great Wall, we hired a guide and a driver for the trip, which was supposed to go from the hotel to the Great Wall at Mutianyu and back again.

Like most things in Beijing, this trip was full of surprises. Like the unscheduled stop at the cloisonné factory in Huairou, a place whose primary claim to fame is that it is the suburb of Beijing with the least air pollution.

Now, cloisonné production is not exactly environmentally neutral and safe. The process involves heat, adhesives, and chemicals. The workers we saw were not using masks, gloves, or eye protection. When I asked about the glue they used to attach copper strips to the copper vessels that would eventually become vases, I was told that the glue was made from an herb of some kind.

We were not allowed to see the plating part of the process. Given the messiness and hazards of plating, I was not too surprised.

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23.9.07

Beijing Delicious

From the map, it looked like the Forbidden City was only five or six blocks away.

What we didn't understand is that those are BEIJING blocks, which go on until you drop dead or reach the Mongolian steppes, whichever happens first.

We met a number of interesting people on our long hike. Most were young, eager to explain that they had been to university in the United States (the U of Chicago is a favorite), and even more eager to take us on guided tours of the city. We declined these offers, for obvious reasons. More than one person approached us crying, "I am a teacher!" Another woman approached us several times, apparently forgetting that she'd already told us her story and made her pitch. She was surprised when I said, "Hello, Grace! It is nice to see you again, on this corner where you introduced yourself last time! We must hurry along now."

Everyone seems to be running some kind of ... enterprise. People do hustle here. The rule for getting through doorways and other tight spaces is the person with the biggest muscles goes first. Traffic signals are honored more in the breach. I am getting used to it.

On our hike, we discovered a hutong, or alley, where we were befriended by a woman who explained to us that the street itself was four hundred years old before urging us to visit her art gallery at one end of a deserted, though rather picturesque, courtyard. Again, we had to decline, as we were on our way to the Forbidden City. She told us it was not open; evidently she had been misinformed. At any rate, the street she so helpfully dated for us certainly looked old enough, and narrow, and very traditional, with men sitting outside shops on little stools, smoking and chatting and sipping drinks.

There were fruit and vegetable stands and hot food stands where all sorts of delicacies were on offer -- buns, roast meat on skewers, thin fried pancakes. All of it looked very delicious, but not compatible, alas, with the Wonky Gallbladder Diet.

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Starbucks, Ritan Lu, Beijing


Starbucks, Ritan Lu, Beijing
Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
Here is what they have in Beijing: Starbucks. Everywhere. Including right in your face as you pass through immigration at the airport.

Starbucks had even set up shop in the Forbidden City -- but this, apparently, was too much. Now there is a government-sponsored tea house in the same spot instead.

The prices are much the same as in New York, Boston, etc. If you want a latte and a pastry, it will set you back about six dollars or 50 yuan.

Bear in mind that most Chinese make about two dollars a day. In the cities, a clerical worker makes about 50 dollars a week, and that is a good living.

I have lots of good pictures and stories from Beijing that do not involve multinational corporations. But the Starbucks thing really got to me. Stay tuned.

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21.9.07

Playing Princess


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Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
"Want to play 'princess' with me?"

"Princess" is a dreadful game in which two plastic Disney Princesses say mean things to each other, do handstands, and change into different dresses. It is not so much a game as a ritual. Jane reserves the right to make all the rules, to change those rules when she likes, and to make up all the dialogue.

"Okay," I say.

She hands me Sleeping Beauty. "Now I am Cinderella, and you are Sleeping Beauty."

"Yes. I think Sleeping Beauty needs some coffee to wake up."

"NO! You say..." And Jane tells me what to say.

"Jane," I say, "if you are always telling me what to say, playing 'princess' is not very much fun."

She looks at me blankly.

"For me," I clarify. "Not much fun for me."

"But you are supposed to say..." And I get the same instructions again.

"Sleeping Beauty is sitting down," I say. "She is resisting your orders. I can't make her do anything."

"What?!"

"That's right. This princess is so stubborn, I can't believe it."

"What?!"

"She says she is engaging in a form of nonviolent protest against a despotic regime."

"Tell her to say..."

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20.9.07

I Hear You

Dooce took her kid to San Francisco and it was not a lot of fun:

"Everything that they tell you about the love you'll have for your child is true, but there's all this other stuff that is true, too, stuff that you're afraid to talk about, stuff that you carry around and try to hide. Stuff like resentment and fear and anxiety and longing."

We're having a good time here in Beijing. But I've been having these feelings, too. One of the things I wanted to do on this trip was confront this stuff -- figure out why I sometimes feel this way, and what it is all about. Travel is good for this kind of exploration-- I am alone with Jane for long stretches and without babysitting options so it's critical that I just learn to deal.

One thing that's occurred to me: I love Jane for her innocence and beauty (I admit it). I also love watching her in new situations, because I feel like I am discovering who she is. But she is not only some kind of sui generis entity. She needs to learn things, important things about how to be with other people and how to give and take. A certain, uh, reciprocity is missing from our relationship. I am starting to think that it is my job to help her learn this.

I suspect lots of parents feel the anger and resentment Dooce mentions. Mostly no one talks about it. Our ideas about motherhood and childhood do not include this discourse, or if they do, it's only in the context of illness, like postnatal depression or valium for stressed-out mothers or ritalin for off-the-wall kids.

Which is what they all are, sometimes.

Speaking of walls -- the Great Wall is on the agenda for tomorrow.

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19.9.07

She's Big in Beijing


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Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
Our first day in Beijing was mostly lost to travel and catching up on the sleep we lost as a result of our early flight out of Tokyo.

Today we got up, visited the local Starbucks out of curiosity and the crying need for really big cups of coffee, and then walked to the Forbidden City, about a mile away.

Everywhere, we were greeted by smiles and cries of "piaoliang" (pretty). Jane stuns them all when she says "xie xie ni" (thank you) and addresses people using (mostly) the right honorifics. People ask how does she know Chinese. This is our secret: Chinese for Children. Naturally, MJ and I have been watching it as well, and as a result we can say things like "Hello, Grandma" and "That is my doll" in flawless kiddie Chinese. So useful, especially for communicating things like "I have a disease that does not permit me to eat fried food, eggs or red meat, I hope your chef can accommodate me." Or even, "Ah, forget it, I'll just have the soup."

In the Forbidden City, a group of girls were so smitten they asked to be photographed with Jane. We took a picture of them, too.


New kanji we've learned: airport, airline, China, Beijing.

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Just Mots

Can now recognize kanji for "entrance," "exit," "parking lot," and "coffee," and for the subway stops "Takeshiba," "Shiodome," and "Odaiba." From this you get an idea of what our priorities are.

E. wrote our names for us in katakana script.

kawa = river
nami = wave (thus, tsunami; o-nami is a "man" wave or a big wave; there is a special kanji for smaller waves, "woman waves")
matsu = pine

Also -- near the mall, there's a place where you can visit with a roomful of cats for an hour if you want. It's like a cat rental place. Rent-a-kitty.

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Mots & Choses & Ten Little Toes

At breakfast in Expensive Hotel, Japan:

J: What's a category?
D: It's an imaginary box to put things in.
MJ (laughs): Not bad for 7 AM!

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Manga Collage


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Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
In Kanda.

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This Is More Like It


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Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
Back in Kanda, after lunch with our friend N., who took us to a great organic restaurant called Mother's.

The book displays are astonishing -- the piles are high and very precarious!

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So Are the Spiders


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Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
The Emperor's spider. We wandered through a grove full of these. Creepy.

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The Carp Are Large


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Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
The Emperor's carp pond.

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No Trespassing


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Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
The Emperor's Keep Out sign. A good set of kanji to learn.

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Pretty


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Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
A pretty walk, belonging to the Emperor. Husband and child, not belonging to the Emperor.

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Blossoms


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Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
Blossoms, belonging to the Emperor.

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Not a Stinkhorn


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Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
Wood fungus, belonging to the Emperor. We have tree stumps in our yard too, but only disgusting stinkhorns grow on them.

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Light Fixture


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Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
A beautiful lamp, belonging to the Emperor.

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Old & New & MJ


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Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
A bit of the ultramodern Tokyo skyline is visible behind the roof of the Emperor's old-fashioned guard house.

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Imperial Garden - Entrance


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Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
It was hot, we were hours from lunch, and Jane was floppy. So after a quick trip to a real Japanese grocery store where we were delighted to discover such delicacies as Hello Kitty cookies, little mango-flavored jello snacks that come individually wrapped in plastic, and a bewildering variety of rice crackers, we hightailed it out of sleepy Kanda, and headed for the Imperial Gardens.

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Emphatic


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Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
Really!!!!! Don't worry!!!! In Kanda.

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The Fox & The Rabbit -- Kanda


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Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
Seen on the street in Kanda. The rabbit looks like it better watch out.

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Morning in Jimbocho


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Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
We arrived too early -- the bookstores weren't going to open until 10:30 or so, and since it was Honor Your Elders Day, a national holiday, things were even quieter. Here's a typical street in Kanda, in a quiet moment.

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Kanda, Jimbocho, and the Imperial Gardens -- Day 5


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Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
We wandered around Jimbocho for a while, looking for Kanda, the used books district. Snapped this one after we stopped for coffee.

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Not So Serious


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Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
Looking up, just behind the plaque -- it's a bathing suit contest! Here are the contestants, a dozen or attractive young women in bikinis and four-inch heels, and the mob of photographers that was following them around.

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Philosophy of Water


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Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
Outside the museum, Y. kindly translated this plaque for me. It is a statement from the museum's founder on the "Six Principles of Water."

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Maritime History Museum, Odaiba -- Day 4


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Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
Our friends took us to Odaiba's Maritime History Museum, a ship-shaped (!) building just a short walk from Expensive Hotel. The kids had a great time playing with the interactive exhibits, most of which featured models of ships' controls and their correlated propellers and engines. Our two girls were quite a sight, piloting imaginary ships while their Hello Kitty and Aristocat handbags dangled from their elbows. But instead of a picture of that (E. probably doesn't want her daughter's picture on the internet, and I understand) here is a photo of the enormous old-fashioned propulsion engine that took up most of the main hall of the museum.

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17.9.07

Day 4 -- New Friends


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Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
Just a short post & pic, from yesterday's outing with E., Y., and A., Jane's new big-girl friend (she is all of six). It seems that even little girls who don't speak the same language can rapidly find common ground over many things regardless of the language barrier. And these are truly vital things, like the color pink, good shoes, and the importance of the right handbag.


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15.9.07

Hello Kitty Mikoshi


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Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
We didn't bow to it or anything, but when we saw it, we understood that the $300+ dollars we spent at Hello Kitty Land did not represent our capitulation to Sanrio's marketing but were, in fact, a sacred offering.

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Big Biru


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Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
This is what you need when your child is totally megamawaru. Thankfully the Sanrio people understand, and are happy to oblige you in the cafeteria.

We also had our first experience (mine and Jane's) with squat toilets. About which, perhaps, the less said, the better.

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Or, In a Word


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Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
The same feeling, in Japanese.

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I LOVE THIS PLACE


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Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
Jet-lagged, her blood sugar dropping fast, and completely overstimulated.

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Konnichiwa Kitty Has Wheels


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Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
Of course she does!

See that rose? It cost 5 dollars. A girl was selling them outside the HKHouse. Jane walked up to her and started to make faces that said, "I am so cute, please give me a flower."

The girl very cutely made faces back to Jane that said, "You are so very cute, but you really must pay 5 dollars for this flower."

Jane, undaunted, continued with her faces. "Oh but I am so cute, how can you say no to me?"

The girl, who was clearly accustomed to this sort of thing, made additional faces. "Oh, you are so cute, and I hate to say no, but you really must give me money. Did I mention how cute you are?"

Eventually we had no choice but to fork over the dough. Well done, Jane!

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Chez Hello Kitty


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Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
What words are there for this? It was just like in the picture, only bigger and somehow pinker. It looked edible.

Inside, you could wander through Hello Kitty's rooms and paw through her belongings. On the nighttable were various interior design books whose titles I should have written down. (They were mostly of the "shabby chic" variety.) On the bookshelf, there was a nice library of English literature and books about the English language, including the OED and a dictionary of "early English."

Could it be that Hello Kitty = Englishness, through the eyes of the Japanese?

A lot of it was twee, definitely...

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Very Bad Batsumaru


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Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
I laughed out loud.

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On the Boat


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Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
Disney's "It's A Small World" is going to be a let-down after this.

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Bad Batsumaru


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Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
Here he is, my favorite Sanrio character, about to jump out from behind a rock and ambush us on our boat ride through the Sanrio interior.

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Designers Go Crazy


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Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
As theme parks go, Hello Kitty Land is on the small side -- one central area surrounded by a handful of ancillary rooms containing various rides and attractions. Upstairs, there's a cafeteria and shops, including one shop for "students and ladies" where, despite myself, I made several purchases. Needless to say, there are opportunities to spend money at every turn.

Despite its small size, every detail in Hello Kitty Land has been lovingly worked over, maximally cute and perfect. The main hall has a steampunk vibe with a weird northern European aspect -- one of the rooms off to the side is "Marchenland," and there is much ado about fairies.

One thing we notice right away: There are no Americans here. We see lots of Japanese families, and also Japanese teenagers and young adults dressed to kill in the latest goth cosplay get-ups.

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Fanfare, Please


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Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
After a ride on the monorail, a quick change at Shiodome, an interminable wait for the right train at Shinjuku, and a very long ride through the provinces of southwest Tokyo, we arrived at the land of Hellish Kitty.

On the way, I learned the kanji for "station" and "Shiodome," as well as the character that sounds like "dai." I don't know why these things stick among the thousands of words I see. MJ shows me that the kanji for station includes a stylized horse, mane, tail, feet and all.

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An Important Piece of Jane's Education


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Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
MJ looks out the window. "There's Tokyo beach. I mean, 'beach.'" And makes the air quotes sign.

"What does that mean?" Jane asks, and makes the air quotes sign.

"Irony," MJ says.

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Day 3 -- Konnichiwa Kitty


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Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
Today we made the trek out to Tama City Center, home of Sanrio Puroland, the theme park devoted to all things Hello Kitty.

The trip was ill-advised. But we didn't know it at the beginning.

Except, we did.

"This is crazy," MJ said. "We're in a huge city we don't know at all, we don't speak the language, we can't read the signs, and we need to figure out the subway AND the local commuter rail in order to make this trip."

"Agreed, it is crazy. Especially since neither of us has any interest at all in Hello Kitty."

But: Jane. Who has had an obsession with the insipid squeaky feline with the dumb bow pretty much since birth.

How could we not go?

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One, Two, Itchy Knee

A little boy is marching around the hotel lobby with his father. Every time he takes a step he says "Ichi ni, ichi ni" -- "one, two, one, two."

At 3 am, Jane is marching around the room in her slippers. "Itchy knee, itchy knee. One, two, I have an itchy knee."

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Metaphor

It is 3 am. Once again, we are singing the ballad of the jetlagged gaijin. This time we have peanuts and cup miso (delicious). Jane looks out the window at the lights and skyscrapers of central Tokyo.

"Tokyo," she says, "is a boat that goes everywhere."

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14.9.07

The Ride


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Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
We bought our ticket and were ushered onto a lemon-yellow car. But the inside! Was pink! Like bubble gum! It was like riding in a blow-pop.

I felt a little sick, to be honest. The Odaiba ferris wheel may or may not be the highest in the world -- but it was definitely...high.

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Closer


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Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
The Odaiba Ferris Wheel up close. According to the recording that played while we were riding, it is the tallest ferris wheel in the world. (But, surely, the London Eye comes close?)

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Odaiba Ferris Wheel


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Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
A distant shot of the Odaiba Ferris Wheel. We had just finished lunch at a Korean restaurant that we stumbled into by accident because we had been completely befuddled by the ticketing process at the Mysterious Ramen Noodle Theme Park. Jane had refused to eat, being jet-lagged and cranky, but perked up later when we got her a strawberry ice-cream sundae at Mou Mou. (For some reason, although Japanese cuisine is almost entirely free of gallbladder-pain-inducing butterfat, soft ice cream is very popular.) Thus fortified, Jane and I set out for a walk, leaving MJ to his meeting. After watching several planes make the hair-raising turn over Tokyo Bay toward Narita the other airport near Tokyo, Jane asked to ride the ferris wheel, which was visible in the distance.

She was tired, and cranky, and I thought, This can't be a good idea. But we set off anyway, walking through a pretty park filled with wildflowers, beetles making strange electrical noises and trees full of ripe plums. It was a long, hot walk but Jane didn't mind -- there was too much to look at.

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Fish Mural


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Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
Spotted this on our way toward the inner marke, which was a little too forbidding for us today - gawkers aren't welcome and definitely not with children. But we'll come back.

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Ceramics


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Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
A ceramics stall in Tsukiji -- black, white, celadon, turquoise, goldenrod, taupe...

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Mystery


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Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
Stairways like this one can be found behind many of the outer market's stalls. I wonder where they go, whether there are offices up there, or apartments... What would it be like, to come home every day, winding your way through the thronging maze of the outer market, your briefcase on one shoulder, and scoot up this staircase to a tiny room, a pot of tea?

I could love living in Tsukiji...although I read in Theodore Bestor's anthropological study of the market, Tsukiji, that people don't really live here anymore.

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A Relatively Quiet Moment


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Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
In Tsukiji's outer market.

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Bright


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Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
Yellow chrysanthemums nestled among the produce...

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Squid


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Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
One baleful eye...

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These Are For Sale, Too


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Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
Fish heads.

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Abundant Shellfish


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Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
...of the most astounding variety...

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Tokyo suki desu! Very much!


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Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
Everyone we've met has been unbelievably helpful and kind, even though we are totally ignorant of all but the most basic aspects of this immensely complex and sophisticated culture, and we speak only a few words of Japanese. People help us find our way on the streets, and cheerfully teach us new words in Japanese. This lady spontaneously gave Jane a small gift as she walked past her stall.

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Bonito


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Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
Dried fish flakes, for making soup stock.

See the character on the front of the third box from the left? The topmost part of it -- the part shaped like two mountains coming together -- means "Tsukiji".

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Niboshi


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Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
Niboshi in boxes ready for sale. These come in many sizes, from tiny fish smaller than my smallest finger joint to meaty substantial fish that fill the palm of my hand.

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It's Fuzzy & Comes on Stalks!


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Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
Edamame, in its natural state -- or at least closer to it than the unshelled soybeans we buy frozen at Whole Foods.

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Feast for the Eyes, Too


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Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
Some of the colors of Tsukiji.

Incidentally, just about all the fish is lined up in these little Styrofoam boxes, which are tossed into big piles at the end of the day and transported to plastic factories in Southeast Asia.

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Tsukiji


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Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
Oh, Tsukiji. I'm completely smitten.

Tsukiji, the world's largest seafood market, is a warren of warehouses, trading floors, and shops a few blocks from the Ginza. Every day, over two million kilos of fish pass through Tsukiji on their way to kitchens all over Japan and around the world, or about twenty million dollars worth of fresh fish, dried fish, live fish, frozen fish, salted fish, smoked fish, fish paté, shellfish, fish eggs...you name it, if it's fish, it's probably here. At least briefly.

In the outer market, where I took all these pictures, there are other things for sale too: knives for cutting fish, fancy plates and chopsticks for eating them, huge bins of bonito flakes for making soup stock, linens for the table, spices, coffee, tea, and stationery.

We visited in the late morning, when it was not crowded. Thousands of people do their shopping here, in these mazy streets lit (by law) by bare bulbs only (so the ambient light can't give you the wrong idea about the fish you're about to buy).

A stuffed wildcat graced this fishmonger's stall.

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Words Learned Today

good morning = oh-hi-oh
goog night = ill-in-ois (only kidding)

good morning (more formal) = oh-hi-oh asa
daddy = baba
mommy = mama (what else?)
I like Tokyo = Tokyo suki desu
six = roku
seven = shichi
eight = hachi
where? = doko?

mikoshi = a palanquin or portable shrine (outside Tsukiji, we saw one on the back of a truck, on its way toward the Ginza; it went by too fast to snap a photo but I can report that it filled the back of a pickup truck and it was covered in gold, the brightest thing on the street)

niboshi = tiny dried sardines like the ones I sprinkled over my rice porridge

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Bean Paste Pastry


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Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
MJ discovered these on the buffet -- little sweet pastries stuffed with bright purple soybean paste. A sort of Frenchified anpan. They contained too much butter for me to eat with abandon, but I had a little taste and the filling was fantastic, dense, complicated and not too sweet.

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Jet-Lagged Gaijin -- Day 2


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Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
We were up at 3 am, or at least Jane was. Four hours later, we headed downstairs to see what we could find for breakfast. Naturally, because this is Japan, we found a chocolate croissant, or pain au chocolat if you are as Francophilic as petit Jane. She ate one of these while waiting for the doors to open at the hotel's breakfast buffet, whereupon she ate two more.

(Have the French created a more successful export than the pain au chocolat? Oh, right, there's that stuff called champagne.)

Then we managed to convince Jane to eat some cornflakes and a banana. I could not convince her to try the hot rice porridge with tiny dried sardines, smoked fish, sour cherries, spicy bean paste and some kind of seaweed confit, but that's what I had, and it was delicious.

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13.9.07

Bob the Builder in Japanese


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Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
Nothing is lost in translation.

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Discovering Tetris


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Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
In addition to Pokemon, Jane also discovered Tetris at the toy store. She played for about two minutes before she got bored. Her father, on the other, could barely be dragged away. Forget Wii, we're totally old school...

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Pink! Hair! Notions!


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Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
And did I mention, they are all pink?

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How We Knew We Were In The Right Place


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Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
We wandered around the toy store for a while before finding the GIRLY section. Which was enormous. This is just one corner of it. It stretched for four whole aisles.

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Discovering Pokemon


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Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
We had promised Jane a dip in the pool on our arrival, only to discover that children are not allowed at the hotel pool! (How DO they expect parents to exhaust their children, thus ensuring everyone a good night's sleep?) So, to mitigate the tantrum, we told her we'd take her to the Odaiba toy store instead.

Here is Jane at said toy store, mazed by the number and variety of Pokemon stuffed animals available for purchase.

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Statue of Liberty at Odaiba


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Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
At this very moment, it is sometime between 3 and 4 am in Japan, and I am writing from the hotel room while MJ and Jane are trying to find sumo wrestling on TV. They are not having much success, but there are a lot of shows about cuisine.

This picture is from the promenade at Odaiba. The "rainbow bridge" is in the background. In front, a replica of the Statue of Liberty presides over the Odaiba mall's "Goddess Gate."

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Japan - Day 1


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Originally uploaded by quiet.eye.
Here's the wonderful Bladerunner-like view from the sixteenth floor of the nice hotel in Odaiba where I'm staying. It's a Western-style hotel so, no tatami mats but lots of slippers and it is massively overheated, which I'm told is a cultural thing.

Odaiba is across the new "Rainbow Bridge" from central Tokyo & the Ginza. What you see in the picture is Odaiba's monorail and behind it, the waterfront promenade where dozens of people are all taking the same photograph of downtown Tokyo and beside it, the Odaiba mall, which has great souvenir shops (I really want a kitschen cat, the pun is entirely intended) plus the inevitable J. Crew & Starbucks.

The air has a specific odor: seawater mixed with that funny smell that comes off new electronics.

We had dinner at the sushi bar in the hotel. Not very adventurous but we were tired after the long flight.

Since Japanese cuisine is one of the few that I can still eat with abandon on the Wonky Gallbladder Diet, I think I'll be writing a lot about it. So... the sushi. Even at this very ordinary hotel bar, it was -- predictably but still marvelously -- out of this world. I was astonished to discover that unagi is neither as slimy nor as chewy as it is back home, and the tekka is delicately sweet. (Red snapper is still chewy, though.)

I've been reading about Tsukiji, the Tokyo fish market, and I have learned that not all the fish is local - not by a long shot. So it is hard to explain these variations in flavor and texture by the usual simple argument that local is better.

Words I can say: konnichiwa (hello), domo aregato (thank you very much), aregato (very much), sumimasen (excuse me), hai (yes), nihongo wa hanashi masen (I don't speak Japanese).

Characters I recognize: "women's room," "men's room".

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9.3.07

My "Day"

1. Sometime in the AM: Husband removes self from bed, replaces self with kicking child.
2. Sometime later: My eye begins to itch.
3. Later still: I fall asleep.
4. 6 AM: MJ leaves for someplace. Child asleep in bed. Eye not so itchy. "Bye."
5. 8 AM: I wake up. Child is still asleep. We are late for school. Eye itching outrageously.
6. 8:05, child wakes up: "You have pinkeye, Mommy!" Indeed, I do.
7. Guess who still doesn't have a doctor.
8. 8:10 AM: I dribble Jane's old tobrimicin drops in my eye. Itching stops.
9. 8:15 AM: By mistake, I pour too much milk into Jane's pancake mix. Now there are pancakes for six, and no milk for coffee. Peering out the window, I notice there are two cars parking me in. I swallow my vitamins & anti-depressant, then I make an executive decision: We are not going to school today.
10. We do, however, need to get to the grocery store. Because there is no milk for coffee.
11. 9:15 AM: There are still two cars parking me in.
12. 10 AM: Jane finishes her breakfast. We are showered, dressed, and ready to go. The cars haven't moved. I park Jane in her car seat, leave the engine running, heat on, window cracked. Despite these precautions, I am sure the car will burst into flames or something while I am moving the two cars parking me in. I can't decide if this is a crazy thought or a normal one, probably because I still haven't had any coffee.
13. 10:05 AM: Cars are moved. We are ready to go. I put the car in reverse and...
14. 10:06 AM: Oops.

15. 10:15 AM: I am tempted to jump off the roof. Instead, I go back upstairs and get some tools

and then I employ an assistant

to help me "fix" the car, meaning "affix" the broken mirror to the car door with duct tape, like this

16. 10:45 AM: We finish our shopping with no new mishaps. That is, until I load the groceries into the trunk, whereupon I drop a cardboard box full of chocolate milk boxes onto the bag containing the bread. Now we have pitas.
17. 11:00 AM: Coffee break.

Day is not even half over yet. Excuse me while I put some more drops in my eye.

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1.3.07

Jane's Take On Homeland Security

Tonight, while MJ gives her a bath:

(coyly) "Dad?"

"Yes?"

"Will you accept bags that don't belong to you?"

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21.2.07

Abroad

Looking at my passport, I notice something: These days, when I travel, it's almost always out of the country.

North America doesn't do that much for me. I don't care for what was once quaintly called "motoring" -- motorcars, motorcycles, motor homes, motor inns. Which is pretty much what travel around a big continent requires. I like older & more walkable places, cities where people come together, manage to live together in closer quarters than otherwise.

This preference poses certain problems when traveling with a child. It's not like we can just buckle her into her car seat and drive off. Jane and I spent some time in Paris learning about how to walk. There's lots to learn: how to use a map, how to move in crowds, how to walk at night. Through it all a larger lesson: how to be with other people. Learning to walk in cities is a way to learn about how to participate in civic life, how to recognize and inhabit shared space.

Tonight at the grocery store: "What's the most important thing to do when you travel, Jane?"

"Smile."

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Travel Writing - Mothers & Children

I'm trying to find examples of travel writing that include parents and children. Know of anything? Email me -- ping DOT diane AT gmail DOT com

Thank you!

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Jane's Dinner Party Conversation

In Paris, I had the pleasure of sitting next to Jane at an intimate dinner party in the Marais where she held forth on her two favorite subjects: gun control (she is all for it) and pollution (against). She's got lots of ideas, and she's not afraid to share them. It is astonishing to hear someone so small talk about matters so large. But somehow, she does it. Pulls it off rather gracefully, in fact.

I felt quite shallow, sitting there with my glass of champagne, admiring the view...

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Travels with Jane - Other People & Their Children

This year, we're going to lots of interesting places: Paris, Tokyo, Beijing, and wherever else we're lucky enough to visit.

Jane is old enough that travel is no longer a misery of portage - diapers potty toys games stroller snugli diaper bag twenty changes of clothes etc. All that's over with - she walks, she talks, she (mostly) sleeps, she uses the bathroom. In fact, she carries things herself - she will bring me my glasses, the telephone, a cold drink while I sit in my silk wrapper, perusing the room service menu & watching my nails grow.

Traveling with a child, I am acutely aware of other people's children. On the flight from Paris, a little girl who cried inconsolably on take-off and landing received several whacks on the bottom from her mother, who seemed unaware that the change in pressure might be hurting her little one's ears. Not surprisingly, the whacks did not stop the crying; eventually the kid fell asleep. I felt lucky that Jane is such a good traveler - she slept at least five or six hours on each flight we took. But we gave her a teaspoon of decongestant before the plane took off, to help with her ears (she's getting over an infection). This probably also helped with her sleeping. I remember the pain of plugged airplane ears from my childhood. Even a little, tiny, residual cold can make flying a misery.

I thought about offering a teaspoon of decongestant, or a little water in a cup. But I didn't want to intrude. I felt like doing so would overstep a line. I don't like the violence of what she did. But she wasn't freaking out, wasn't incapacitated with anger - she just seemed like an easily annoyed person with few resources for dealing with crying children.

Her husband could not have been less helpful, either. He just sat there and occasionally barked warnings at the little girl.

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Mademoiselle Wants You To Know...

...that she is not asleep, and her shoes are not on the sofa, as she parties all night at the Hôtel Crillon.



More news from Paris coming soon.

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19.1.07

Things Necessary

My mother has been in and out of the hospital since October. Right now she's in a nursing home, recovering from her broken knee, and the subsequent infection she got somewhere inside RI's labyrinthine system for the care of the elderly and infirm. Today, for the first time since her dementia diagnosis, and in between terrible bouts of vomiting, she asked me for a paper and pencil. She wanted to make a list. Here is what she wrote: Things necessary.

I left some time later, & spent the afternoon with Jane, doing certain very necessary things, like taking a walk in the woods, shopping for summer dresses, and eating cones of vanilla chip ice cream. I did not write, although I thought about it, in between remembering my mother, working at her easel or the typewriter during the long summer afternoons, or driving me around, trying to distract me, on the night I didn't have a date for the ninth grade dance. The ice cream parlor where I sat with Jane was also where I worked my fifteenth summer, and as I looked out at the village center, time stopped, briefly, and then went backwards. Everything was just the way it was twenty years ago, right down to the trees and the grass and the robins in the shrubbery. I pressed my lips to Jane's head; she licked up the last of her ice cream; and it seemed that my father was still waiting in the parking lot with the engine running while I polished the last of the silver ice cream bins.

It is hard to reconcile this sadness and nostalgia with what I also know to be true: that during my childhood and adolescence I was alone and silent a great deal; that school, which might have been a refuge, was violent and frightening; and that my mother, also, was violent and frightening.

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