Edifice of the Week: LDS temple

This week's featured building is the LDS temple here in Tokyo. Completed in 1980, it is one of only two such temples in Japan. The temple is about a ten-minute walk from our home. Next door to it is the meetinghouse where we attend regular Sunday meetings.

For those not familiar with LDS temples, these are buildings dedicated to our faith's most sacred rites, such as marriage. Closed off from the outside world, they provide a haven for learning and contemplation. I appreciate the special, calm spirit I feel there. It has been many years since Cindy and I were married (in the Washington D.C. temple) and regular temple visits have been part of our life. So it's great to have a temple so close at hand.

Like most structures here in Tokyo, where acreage is at such a premium, the temple takes advantage of vertical space. It is built on a lot just under half an acre, but has a floor area of over 50,000 square feet. Because of its location, it is not easy to get a good photo of the whole temple. From across the street, its spire overlooks the lower portion of Arusigawa Memorial Park, a beautiful spot in the middle of Minami Azabu.

In the dedicatory prayer for the temple, LDS president Spencer W. Kimball remembered its neighborhood: "O Lord, we pray Thee to bless and sanctify the grounds on which this Temple stands, and with it, the fences, the walks, paths, the trees, plants, flowers and shrubbery that grow in this area. May they blossom beautifully and be pleasant for all and a haven of peace and rest for holy meditation."

Merry Christmas!

To all our friends, wherever you are: May the blessings of this season rest upon you and your homes.

Tom, Cindy, Sherry and C. J.

Sign of the Week: Police Patrol

This sign is at entry to the grocery store immediately across the street from our apartment. It's comforting to know police patrol here frequently. Actually, the sign is probably unnecessary. From its location, you can usually see at least two policemen on duty.
























The wording of signs like this often makes me smile. But actually, when you think about it, they do a pretty good job of communicating, for all their awkwardness. And I appreciate the effort. I mean, if I were asked to make a sign to put up at Timberline shopping center to help Japanese visitors understand policemen were on duty, I wouldn't do very well.

Edifice of the Week: "typical" apartment building

This week's selection is not a famous landmark, nor does it tower over its neighborhood. It is simply a typical apartment building in Azabu-Juban. Of course, as we've reviewed in earlier posts, "typical" in this neighborhood can mean it is somehow different from the other buildings on the block.
























Why did the architect choose this shape? It seems an extreme choice to me--I mean, wouldn't it generate a lot more useful floor space in this ultra-crowded city to have this building "normally" squared off at the top? Wouldn't that bring in more rent revenues, or at least be more efficient?

Maybe there's another reason, a practical engineering concern that is beyond my comprehension. I know nothing of such things. But it may be that this is simply an example of our neighborhood's aesthetic: making something different simply for variety's sake.

Vehicle of the Week: Nissan Cube

Here is the popular Nissan Cube, a small MPV that has been on the market here in Japan for years (2006 was the first year for this version, however). It looks sort of like a shrunken-down Scion.



Note the offset rear window which wraps around the left rear. The back door opens to the side, an interesting feature.


Smaller cars are becoming more popular in the U. S., and I understand Nissan is mulling an entry to the American market with this car. If that happens, remember...you saw it here first!

Doggies in the 'hood

As you might imagine, living in Tokyo has presented us with plenty of opportunities to experience "culture shock." On top of this, we are also dealing with a neigborhood that is much more exclusive than we're used to. When we moved to Cary, North Carolina a few years ago, I used to say that actually, we'd just moved from Sewell to Moorestown. Well, now we've moved from Sewell to Manhattan's upper east side. So we "don't belong" on more than one level.

Just how chichi is Azabu-Juban? One indicator is the high doggie factor. We're not talking about dogs, now--our neighborhood in Sewell has plenty of dogs--but doggies. Teacups and toys. Miniatures. Dogs with paws that never touch ground out of doors. Dogs coiffed and costumed.

Have you got a dog hospital in your neighborhood? You may. What about a dog cemetery and memorial park? A dog boutique? A dog salon? Dog spa? Dog aromatherapy? Dog massage? We have all of these and more within five blocks of each other.

It's fun to see the doggies--they're cute, even if the doggie culture is a little surreal to us. But we miss our Fritz, as I've mentioned before. Still, if he were here, he would probably feel as much culture shock as we do.

Proxy grandparents Christmas party

The Tokyo 1st (English-speaking) LDS Ward, our church congregation, has a number of senior couples who are here as volunteer missionaries, working at the Tokyo temple. Most of them are grandparents, far away from their grandchildren during this holiday season. On the other hand, the congregation also has young families, with children whose grandparents are far away in the States.


This being the situation, some of the grandparents decided to hold special Christmas party for the children. As long-distance grandparents ourselves, Cindy and I were happy to be invited to help out. We had a sit-down breakfast for all the families, then some Christmas carols, and finally, a visit from Santa. (By the way--it's a small world sometimes--Santa was Dr. Ames, a former business school professor of mine who is now here as a consultant).

Cindy and I really enjoyed ourselves, and C. J. avoided missing his annual conversation with Santa. The adopted grandchildren seemed to have fun, too, and had fun singing with them. But we do miss little Marigold.

Meet me at Hachiko

Friday night is date night, and Cindy and I met in Shibuya for some shopping. I understand weekend nights are usually pretty busy in this neighborhood, but with gift-buying season at its peak, it was particularly crowded. Pictures don't really do it justice; imagine Times Square in Manhattan, only bigger and more crowded (and more polite).

We decided to meet at the statue of Hachiko. Hachiko was a dog born in the 1920s--an Akita. The story is that he would come to meet his master at Shibuya station faithfully every evening. After a few years, the master died while away. The little dog kept coming to the station to wait for him every evening for years. He became famous as a symbol of loyalty. After the dog passed away, citizens commissioned a bronze statue to be placed at the station entrance. The statue was melted down for weapons during the austerity of WWII, but re-made in the years following. Since Hachiko is so well-known, and Shibuya station is a real labyrinth, the statue has become a favorite landmark and meeting place.

There is just one problem with a well-known meetingplace--you're not going to be the only ones using it. As the picture below shows, actually finding each other at Hachiko might not be as easy as it sounds.

But after a little searching, we linked up fine. We also met a group of youth from the Tokyo South Stake of our church. They were meeting to go carolling. C. J. was en route to join them.

We shopped for Christmas decorations at "Tokyu Hands," a large arts and crafts store, then strolled around looking at the decorations and getting to know the area a little.

In a remarkable coincidence among such throngs, we came across C. J. and some of the rest of the youth on their way to get something to eat after caroling. Cindy and I realized we had worked up quite an appetite ourselves. We wanted something we could sink our teeth into, so we tried a Kentucky Fried Chicken we came across.

The chicken was about what you'd expect from KFC, and certainly filling. One slight difference from the states was that they leave the chicken's foot on, connected to the drumstick. Cindy didn't care for this. The biscuits were interesting. They had a hole in the middle, like a doughnut. I don't know how to describe their texture well, but they were only vaguely like stateside biscuits. They came with maple-flavored pancake syrup to drizzle over them.

Things were still hopping in Shibuya when we left. We caught the Ginza subway line up to Aoyama Itchome ("Blue Mountain First Street"), changed for the Oedo line to our station, Azabu-Juban, and walked home. The trip only took about 30 minutes, even with the crowds.

We wonder if our Fritz is looking for us to come home, like Hachiko all those years ago...we miss him, and we're looking forward to seeing him in May.

Building wrap

In one of my first posts, I touched on the fact that our apartment building is undergoing renovation, and that the part being worked on is all wrapped in a barrier that prevents anyone from seeing the construction taking place. The building in blue in the picture below is another example. In the weeks since, I've noticed that this seems to be a Tokyo-wide phenomenon: building renovation, demolition, or construction only takes place behind curtains.


One reason this makes sense is that buildings are crowded so closely together. The dust and paint from a project would threaten nearby structures and public areas. And this is a city that washes its sidewalks by hand.

Something else must be at play here, hoewever. Even large building projects, set off by themselves, are completely wrapped until finished, apparently. For example, we passed this site on the train the other week. Imagine the additional expense this cocooning involved.


Maybe the construction wrapping is as much a bow to visual aesthetics as anything else. Rather than show something to the world that is unfinished, messy, or unsightly, they present a barrier that sends an acceptable signal: work in progress.

Thinking about this, I remember my experience bringing gifts to my co-workers when I first came here (an important ritual). I was told that the wrapping was as important as the gift itself. Thank goodness I had Cindy's help. Sure enough, when the gifts were passed out, there was much admiration of the paper, and how each present was wrapped.

So, maybe building wrap in Tokyo is more than just a dust shield, and more than just a visual screen. Perhaps it even functions to heighten the anticipation of something new--like a present under the Christmas tree.

Edifice of the Week: DoCoMo Tower

This week we salute the DoCoMo Tower in Shinjuku. It rises to 492 feet. To put this in context, it is only about a third of the height of the Empire State Building. Still, it is one of the five tallest buildings in Tokyo, and towers over the other skyscrapers in its neighborhood. Aside from its height, this building has a number of features which make it memorable.

I see this building every day at work from this vantage point (the south). When I first viewed it, I thought something looked odd, but I couldn't put my finger on it. Later, I realized that for such a large building, it had very few windows. A colleague told me that the reason for this is that very few people work in the building--much of it is filled with computers and machinery. NTT DoCoMo, the building's owner, is the largest cell phone company in Japan. The entire top part of the structure is a cell phone tower.

From the north side, the building looks down on Shinjuku station, the busiest train station in the world. Every day 3.5 million people commute through it. A few years ago, DoCoMo installed a large clock near the top of the north side of the tower, so commuters could easily see the the time. The clock face has a radius of about 60 feet. When the clock was installed, the structure became the tallest clock tower in the world.

I understand that there is a lighting system that tells commuters whether or not they'll need an umbrella when they leave work--you just look to see what color the lights are on the top. I've just heard about this, and haven't yet got the hang of which lights represent which conditions.

Sign of the Week: Don't Cross Against the Light

This sign is at a busy pedestrian crossing at one of the major Tokyo streets, the Meiji-dori. I've mentioned before the distinct absence of jaywalkers, and attributed it to public virtue. At this intersection, at least, maybe people just don't want to get killed. The car in my photo helps make the point.

I'm not sure if the lightning bolts emanating from the car in the picture represent a blaring horn, squealing brakes, or just the sheer power of the car's momentum. There's no mistaking the look on the hapless jaywalker's face, however. He knows he's a goner. If only he hadn't been so impatient! Notice further the little beads of sweat springing from the car. The driver is panicking: "Where did that little man come from? I'll never be able to stop in time!" When you cross against the light, you are not only hurting yourself, you're playing havoc with the lives of unsuspecting drivers. So please--it's just not worth it. Even if you don't care about yourself, wait for the light.

Vehicle of the Week: the Yakimo truck

Some vehicles are fast. Some are sporty. Some are roomy. Some are luxurious. Some are tiny. But only one in our neighborhood can make your mouth water before it's even in sight. It's the pick-up truck that belongs to the yakiimo man.


In the bed of the truck is a wood-burning oven. No kidding--in the picture, you can see the firewood stacked next to it. The white pipe is the chimney.

Yakiimo are roasted sweet potatoes. While they get piping hot in the oven, the yakiimo man slowly cruises the neighborhood, stopping now and then to make a sale, or tend to the taters.

The first hint the yakiimo man is nearby is the distinctive cry "yaki-iiiiiiii-mooooo," delivered in a slow, deep-register sing-song. Speakers atop the truck's cab broadcast the welcome news. The second clue--if the wind is right--is the delicious aroma. C.J. can testify that I have, on occasion, altered course while out on a walk in order to intercept this vehicle.

Buy a yakiimo, and it's too hot to hold. The vendor puts it in a bag for you. A little salt, a little butter, and there's not much better, particularly on a chilly night. And the nights are starting to get chilly. So, for this week, hats off to the yakiimo truck!

Edifice of the Week: Azabu Tower

For the first installment of Edifice of the Week, I've chosen a building just a couple of blocks from our residence. It's called Azabu Tower.


Since much of the city was destroyed in WW II (the neighborhood we live in now was totally demolished) few buildings are over fifty years old. Some (like Azabu Tower) seem to have been built with a sense of whimsy. I was going to say it is incongruous with the rest of the neighborhood, but I haven't really noticed a prevailing style among these newer buildings. Maybe doing things differently is the aesthetic. Regardless, it obviously takes great engineering to build something like this.

Vehicle of the Week: Toyota Ractis

Welcome to the first edition of Vehicle of the Week. There are plenty of cars in the city I've never seen before. Some are just variations of vehicles the Japanese companies make for the American market. Others you can only get here or in other parts of Asia. They tend toward smaller models than we're used to, which makes sense because the streets can be tiny, and the people who drive the cars are smaller than most Americans.



This model is the Toyota Ractis, and you can only get it in Asia right now. There are lots of teensy SUV style types around; I think this is the most sporty-looking. Note the location of the rear wheels. They drive on the left here, so the steering wheel location is the reverse of ours.

Sign of the Week: Watch where you sit!

This week we'll begin posting items of the week. The first is the Sign of the Week. The only qualifications are that the sign be different from what we were used to in the U.S., and entertaining in some way.

In that spirit, here is a sign from the town square of Azabu Juban, just down the street from us. A translation? It seems to say something about the "time of the berries." OK, I don't really know, but you'll probably get the gist of it easily enough.



We'll post the Sign of the Week each Monday. Join us tomorrow for the Vehicle of the Week.