It's 1/11/11 -- do you know where your ones are?

On November 11th, 2011, it will be 11/11/11.

CRAZY.

Something I realized when I got out of my bath tonight, all sweaty and relaxed and super aware, was that the objects around me with Japanese writing take on an almost meta state. Being in Japan is kind of a lesson in semiotics. Everything is a signifier. Everything is a sign. This may also have to do with the fact that I am living in Tokyo, and signage is, well -- abundant.

I do not miss my phone! I miss the convenience of calling people but have only reached into my purse to take a picture or a video. I am observing everyone else around me, and in crowded places (like the subway or waiting to cross at the cross walk) everyone is in their phones, barely looking up. It's like Ferris Bueller says/John Hughes wrote: "Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while -- you could miss it!"

Wakako and I went to the immigration office today to get my alien registration card. I have to go back to get the actual card and in the meantime have a slip of paper that's like a temporary driver's license. Then we went to the same bank where my employer has an account. I never thought it would be this hard to set up a bank account, but apparently the Japanese are very wary of foreigners using accounts to launder dirty money. As if some money was 'clean.' Nevertheless, I was SO excited when the bank teller informed me that the marble stamp that was carved for me by my calligraphy teacher when I was 18 -- would help verify my identity (along with my actual alien registration card). She said that nowadays, everyone has a plastic stamp and they are very easy to replicate -- but that my stamp was clearly unique and pretty much impossible to duplicate. Picture of my stamp to follow (Cathy...CAW! CAW!).

Wakako showed me around the good shopping area of Shinjuku and we stopped for a yummy and relatively cheap lunch at a kind of closet eatery where you put your yen in a machine, press the number meal you want, and give your ticket to the smiling lady with the apron. Out comes a bowl with rice, meat, shredded green onions, and an egg on the top. For 500 yen (around 6 bucks) it's a great meal.

Then we took a bus and the subway to SHIBUYA...the fashion center of Tokyo. It was fashion filled. We walked along the river with storefronts on either side (reminded me of the venice canals except there was a one lane road on each side plus stores instead of just residences). We passed a bunch of funky looking shops and went to a button store. It was glorious. Buttons from Paris, Austria, and beyond...gorgeous, old buttons, vintage buttons, florescent buttons...as well as just beautiful things. It was Just Tantau (on Abbott Kinney) meets a button museum.

Stopped for dinner at a spot in Shibuya that used to be a factory. Still had the doors on roller tracks and the grated cages for the lights above. Felt like they had the satellite radio tuned to the 40's with lots of jazz.

Home again, home again, jiggity jig. Said the little piggie in her furry fleece nightgown that is most likely one size too small. It's like I'm wrapped in a blanket that is wrapped in another blanket, like a pig in a blanket...how I love Pigs in a Blanket...