My kitchen

One of the reasons I chose this particular dormitory is because it claimed to have a private kitchen.  I had visions of baking and cooking masterpieces; cookies and toasted cheese, sushi concoctions and delicious meals every night.  Unfortunately, in my food dreams I forgot to take into account that this is Tokyo, and the most expensive thing here is space.  I am sorry to say that my visions of culinary grandeur are not to be, and my food dreams will be forced to die an early death (oh well; I forgot my cheese in Seattle, so I couldn't have made toasted cheese concoctions anyway).  But I still have to eat, so I thought I'd share a few of my cooking adventures so far.

The kitchen:

I want to note here that I am standing about as far back as I can in my very-mini-bathroom (across the hall / entrance way from the kitchen zone) to take this picture.  As you can see, my kitchen consists of a sink, one electric burner, a very-mini-fridge, some hooks, and a small shelving unit.  Thankfully, the dorm had a whole variety of stuff I could take and use for my kitchen so I was able to assemble the necessary equipment at minimal personal cost.  Needless to say, this lack of preparation space and various heat sources makes cooking a bit difficult, and leads to unfortunate situations like this:

This is my attempt to cook one thing (eggs) while re-heating / keeping another thing warm (potatoes) while toasting a third thing (bread) all at the same time, in the same pan.  It was at least moderately successful, though I'm afraid I'll have to get used to having at least one part of my meals be cold. 

Side note: I learned the other morning that no matter how thinly one slices a potato, it still takes forever to cook.  Second side note: I feel bad for giving the knives at home such a hard time for being dull; with the knife I've been using here I live in fear of rogue dull blades whenever I cut something more solid than broccoli.  I haven't slipped while cutting anything yet, but I'm still anxious that I'll lose a finger.  Actually, I would probably just maul myself if the knife slipped: it isn't sharp enough to cut the whole way through. 

After a variety of noddle / egg / vegetable / tofu concoctions, I finally worked up the courage to venture into the fish department of the grocery store.  That day there was a store-wide '98 yen sale' going on, which was accompanied by speakers playing an annoying and repetitive song to which the only lyrics were '98 yen'.  I was convinced that it would be stuck in my head for days, but I had thankfully forgotten it by the time I walked home.  However, the sale lured me into the fish department in hopes that I could afford something, and I bought two salmon mini-fillets for 98 yen each.  And then I cooked them.   (They actually look more like rack of lamb, but I'm not sure 'rack of salmon' is actually a cut.)

It was quite the concoction.  I made tempura and rice, and had basically poached / sauteed salmon (a style used to cook dumplings and stuff, where you cook a bit with lots of liquid, then pour it off and saute a bit).

In the end, I came up with this:

The salmon was too salty and the tempura wasn't really fried (I didn't have enough oil, or the right pan) and had become cold, but it wasn't the worst thing I've cooked. 

Other concoctions include curry, vegetable stir-fries, and a lot of tea.  If I get anything out of living here, I hope it will be the mastery of the 'one pot wonder'; I'm already tired of cold food.

My neighbourhood

Every Japanese city I've been in is a strange combination of almost third-world mayhem and cutting edge technologies, with a weird dose of cute (more on those others later [probably]).  Walking home from the station, I pass two fruit stands, one fish stall, one meat stall, and one flower seller, all selling from open market stalls built into the side of buildings; not actual door-and-window shops.  Everyone is on bikes (I've developed a habit of looking behind me every few dozen feet so I won't get hit), but they all seem a bit run down.  Children often ride in seats attached to the front of back of the bike, and older people often sit on the back wheel when someone else is riding.  The houses and apartments are never attractive, and always seem out of place in one of the world's biggest cities; they feel like they belong in old Soviet areas, or Southeast Asia in less developed areas.  They're hard for me to describe, so I've put a few pictures below. 

Today was one of the nicest days I've had so far - recently it's been very cold, rainy, and windy - so it seems that everyone is doing laundry.  Since I was coming home at the same time as masses of young Japanese schoolchildren, I received some strange looks for taking pictures of the street. 

The first is an apartment building, the second a house (note the Japanese car: they are almost all really short and squat and square-like).   Everyone always dries their laundry outside (or in the house if it's wet or too cold); there aren't many dryers around.   So on a day like today, there are sheets everywhere, including my mini-balcony.

Lots of apartments or flats are above a street-level business, like a bakery or a doctor's office.  I pass this auto shop every day, but I thought today it looked rather funny:

I was standing a bit out of away so no one would think I was creepy (except all the school children; I couldn't escape their strange glances) so it might be hard to read the big AUTO WORKS sign above the garage.  Above that sign are about half a dozen futons airing out, all in old fashioned floral prints.  The next window is full of sheets and clothes hung to dry.  All above the two men working in the garage.  Oh Japan. 

Also on my way home, I pass a side-street that leads to a small graveyard.  Today I decided to investigate; I'm fond of graveyards and always like to explore them (during the day).  Unfortunately, this one had a locked gate and so I couldn't go in.  But I still took pictures.

This tree was actually across the cemetery from me, which is why the exposure is a bit off, but I thought the falling cherry blossoms were quintessential Japan.  (Side note: because it's cherry blossom season, there are sakura flavored versions of everything all over the place.  Which is great.)

Being Japan, the graveyard backed right onto a parking lot (these seem common in residential areas, as almost no one has garages; one pays for a long-term spot near one's house) where construction was being done, probably to reinforce the boundary between the two lots.  The supports are visible in the first image just above.

The view from my window is also pretty typical Japan.  Lots of buildings, lots of wires, not very much coordination or green areas.  Also, lots of laundry. 

The building across from me is pretty typical of a house here; multi-level, probably split into one-family flats, with an open roof and some plants.  When I was in Osaka a few years ago, I stayed on the top level in a mini-apartment like the one in this picture. 

A note on Japanese addresses: they don't really exist.  Almost none of the streets have names.  Instead, a city is divided into wards, which are then divided into mini-sections a few blocks across.  The number of a building tells which block of a section, or 'ku', it is on, and then has a number indication which building it is within the block.  Which still doesn't help much, since for a long time numbers were assigned based on when a building was constructed.  While American forces during the occupation tried to westernize the system (with names and stuff), Japan reverted to their original system soon after the Americans left.  This is the main reason why some of the larger streets do have names.  Obviously, finding an address in Tokyo is not very easy, so most businesses provide mini-maps on their websites or information.  Giving directions is also the main job of policemen.