Relaxin' in Hokkaido...

For the past two summers, we have traveled to Hokkaido for various adventures. The first summer was backpacking in the northern portion of the Daisetzuan national park and then exploring the Abashiri in the northeast corner of the island. We also met Toby and Maiko, who were building a rice straw bale house in Higashikawa. The second summer, we stayed with them in their new house and then ventured to the southern side of Daisetzuan.

This summer, we flew to Hokkaido to house sit for Toby and Maiko while they are traveling,

enjoying the cool breezes and some down time to catch up on Japanese study, reading and writing. One of the real joys of staying here are the three cats. It has been wonderful to hang out with friendly animals - and torment them with feathers and other flappy objects.

We will be here for about a week before taking off for Kushiro in the southeast corner of Hokkaido for bike touring along the coast and couchsurfing with Japanese hosts.

One nice side story: on Saturday afternoon, when we were riding around the town, checking things out, when we saw a group of people bustling about with tents and tables in a parking lot. We couldn't tell if they were setting up or taking down. So later that evening, at the end of a long bike ride out into the rice fields, we swung by to see what was going on. There was a small crowd with meat on the grill, onigiri being made by hand, and a keg of beer. We stopped and asked what was going on, everyone turning to see the foreigners. It turned out to be a "tanabata" block party - a Japanese star festival that usually happens on July 7th where the deities, Orihime and Hikoboshi, who are lovers, are able to meet once a year across the Milky Way that separates them.

"Oh. Ok. Thanks," we said and started to keep on riding. There was a flurry of conversation

behind us, and a voice called out, "Oh-ni-san, mat'te kudasai!" (Older brother, please wait!) We turned back, and not surprisingly, they invited us to join their party. We had a wonderful time eating yaki-niku (grilled meat), the handmade onigiri, and cold draft beer. We sat with a younger couple and their baby (Keisuke, Keiko, and Taise), talking in a mixture of Japanese and English. Many elders, in various states of inebriation, stopped by to welcome us and ask questions. Looking around, it quickly became apparent that the four of us

(not counting Taise, who was three) were the only "young" people there by 20 to 30 years.

At the end of the festival, we exchanged emails with our new friends and made plans to get together during the week. We rode home in the dark, full of that happy glow (and beer and grilled meat) that makes Japan so awesome!

Dangerous ground...

As many of you know, I go to a local izakaya (bar) on Monday nights to practice my Japanese, with Hiroyuki, the friendly insurance salesman who befriended me on my first visit.

Well, last week, we met again, along with a different Japanese friend of mine, who shall remain nameless. The night took an interesting turn, which is why I must protect his identity... Let's call him “Mr. X.”

So, Hiroyuki was a little tired that night and left the izakaya early. Mr. X turned to me and said, “Ri-chi-san, I want to take you to Kichijoji. To the dangerous part...” Well, it was a Monday night with an early class on Tuesday, but it was only 7:30.

We headed to the nearby train station; on the platform, I bought a bottle of sports drink from the vending machine and quickly drained it. I didn't know how this night was going to go.

At Kichijoji station, we headed northeast toward the “dangerous” part of town. There are clubs, hostess bars, snack bars, strip clubs, and, I think, an infamous “Soapland.” I think you can guess what happens there. Now, I don't really know how “dangerous” these places are; this is Japan after all. Yet, I was still kind of nervous because I didn't want Mr. X to put me in “harm's way,” if you know what I mean...

Dodging past all the slickly dressed touts dressed as yakuza wann-bees, Mr. X stopped in front of Club Spacia and definitely declared this was the place. It was a “kaba-kura” - katakana English for “cabaret club.” Next to the stairs was a display case with large photos of overly makeup-ed, beautiful young Japanese women. The doors opened into a large bar/club area with lots of lights and mirrors. We were escorted to our seats and a waiter explained the costs per hour and what it entailed. Luckily Mr. X seems to be independently weather and insisted on paying. Let's just say it wasn't cheap.

Soon, two young women were escorted over and sat down between us.

Now, for the official record, it was all quite tame and nothing inappropriate happened. Also, as much as I enjoyed the cultural aspect of this part of Japanese society, it still felt really weird and kind of creepy, similar to strip clubs in America (not that I've been to any; I'm just well-read...).

They very carefully put ice in our glasses and filled them with whiskey and soda. Using small towels, they delicately wiped the condensation from the glasses before handing them to us. It was a very much part of the show, a modern geisha thing. We engaged in small talk – where are you from, how long have you been here, what is your favorite Japanese food? It was excellent Japanese practice. After 15 minutes or so, a man appear and dramatically gestured for them to stand and leave. They quickly scribbled their names with little hearts, gave them to us and said goodbye.

Soon, two more young women were escorted over and sat down next two us.

Of the three sets of young women that we met that night, I don't remember who was from Aomori, who was 23, or who spoke the best English, but they were all very nice. Mr. X got the last laugh when he suddenly leaned over mid-conversation with his partner, “Ri-chi-san, she is Asia University student!” My heart sank. “Joke! Joke!” he continued. We had a good, hearty laugh. He'll pay. My revenge will be cold and sweet...

After an hour, we escaped that den of iniquity, our morals intact. I later asked a different Japanese friend, well versed in these matters, how this experience ranked on the grand scale of things, “If staying home with your wife and kids is a '1' and Soapland is a '10,' what does a 'kaba-kura' rate in Japan?”

My friend sucked air past his teeth, a quintessential Japanese thing to do, “Well, I'd say a '6...'” He paused, “Maybe a '7.'”

Once on the street with pure, wholesome, fresh air in our lungs, I hoped for a quick retreat. It wasn't yet late and there was hope for a happy, productive morning. Nope. Not to be. Next was off to a famous ramen shop for a large, wonderful bowl of sesame ramen with tender, delicious slices of pork.

Ok, now, maybe we are going home? Nope.

“Ri-chi-san, I want to take you to a different club. Don't worry; this one is safe!”

Off we went to a small establishment, maybe a “hostess bar.” It was much smaller and more sophisticated: no bright lights and loud music. The “mama” of the bar, maybe in her 50's, welcomed us and escorted us to our table. In the other corner, some salary men lustily sang away at karaoke while two women in their 30's refilled the glasses. Soon, we had our own drinking partner, curiously inquiring about our lives. It turns out she spoke almost flawless English from years of self study and was a born and bred native of Kichijoji. She entertained us with stories of Kichijoji before it became extremely popular and how the changes have affected it.

However, like all good things, it came to an end, and it was time to go home. We bid our farewells and wobbled to the train station. I'm sure our swaying on the train looked like just like everyone else's.

At the north exit of the Musashisakai station, where we parted ways, Mr. X admonished me, “Ri-chi-san, don't tell Joan-san. She will be verrrrrrrry angry...” Promising full confidentially, I pinballed home where I promptly confessed my “sins” to Joan. She laughed at me and tucked me into bed. It really unfortunate that the next day was one of the hottest so far and perhaps the busiest of the semester. However, the night was totally worth it. Not sure I'll do it again soon, though...

Lending a helping hand

To find some relief on a very hot and windy day, I dragged myself out of the apartment and up the street to Saizeriya, an Italian chain restaurant. One of the best things about it, besides the air conditioning, is the 270 yen “do-ri-n-ku-baa” or “drink bar” - all the teas, coffee, juices, and sodas you can consume.

Even with the increasing temperatures and humidity, we have stubbornly resisted turning on

the air conditioning. With the projected power shortages coming due to the loss of Dai-ichi “gen-patsu,” the nuclear power plant damaged by the earthquake and tsunami, we are trying to help in our small way. However, when walking past a store with the front doors open and frigid air pouring out to entice customers inside, one quickly realizes that there is still so much waste and inefficiency built into modern society. Right after the disaster, everyone in Japan was so energized and enthusiastic to help and to make difficult changes/choices, but sadly, like in many other situations, that resolve has faded somewhat.

However, I did not start this blog post to rant and rave about the coming energy problems.

Related to the disaster up north, I had an interesting experience last week I wanted to share.

A Japanese friend of ours is involved with a nonprofit organization that is helping with relief efforts up north, providing direct aid and resources to people and communities, separate from the government and all the restrictions of bureaucracy. There are disturbing stories of people still in difficult situations up north while huge amounts of money and resources are tied up in red tape.

A local, large onsen/spa had gone out of business and is to be torn down. I don't know the details, but our friend's group had one day to salvage as much as possible. The plan was to fill a very large semi-trailer truck with things that could be used for reconstruction efforts or to bring some relief and pleasure to people who are still suffering.

With classes later that morning, I only had a short time to help but still wanted to show my support. Ten of us met at eight o'clock and received a whirlwind tour of the cavernous, multi-story building. Basically everything was still in place: sheets and towels on the racks, reclining chairs waiting for tired bathers, beer mugs, menus on the tables, even the cook's clogs waiting just inside the kitchen door. All of it was up for grabs, and it quickly became obvious there was no way it would all fit in the truck. So some quick prioritizing got us started on the tatami –

traditional, Japanese-style floor mats.

From the first room alone, we pulled up and stacked over 70 tatami near the front door. There

were many more rooms to go. With no electricity in the onsen, we relied on headlamps and flashlights to find our way into deeper rooms.

Quickly, I ran out of time and had to bid farewell, leaving them to a long and sweaty day of hauling and loading. Joan was able to stop by later that afternoon to see for herself and gather

information for a potential article. The truck was already loaded and gone, but she was able to meet some of the people and see the shell of the onsen itself. Hopefully, she will be able to meet the director of the organization and learn the whole story. Stay tuned for more details...

Helping our furry friends (Part II)

On our first day at Animal Garden, the name of the hotel/shelter in Niigata, I offered to help with whatever they needed. It turned out that the next day, Toshi, one of the co-owners of Heart Tokushima, another shelter that is part of JEARS, was heading across the island to Fukushima Prefecture on the east coast. A homeowner had contacted JEARS about a stray cat. Also, a rescue team on an earlier trip had spotted a group of dogs inside the evacuation zone but had not been able to catch them.

As it was a eight-hour round trip and potentially many hours searching, I was offered the chance to accompany Toshi and provide what help I could. Joan and I both looked at each other; we had talked about this as a possibility and had decided it would be ok to go if given the chance. To be honest, as much as I wanted to help with the animals, I was also very curious to see the situation on the ground in Fukushima. Other groups had gone in before with Geiger counters, and the authorities were letting residents return briefly to their homes to retrieve belongings and animals, so we were not greatly concerned with the short-term risks. The majority of radiation had been released in the first three days of the reactor failures, and we didn't plan on staying inside the evacuation zone for more than a few hours.

So, with a van full of animal food, cages, and other supplies, we left on our long journey. The drive to Fukushima through the mountains was beautiful. I could tell we were headed in the right direction as we joined all the convoys of utility and other emergency vehicles going the same way. At every rest area, we saw tankers full of drinking water, power line trucks, military vehicles, etc.

The first sign that something had happened were the many blue tarps on the roofs of many old homes. The earthquake dislodged many of the heavy, clay ridge tiles, exposing the crest of the house to rain and snow. Also, the roads would occasionally have a strange pitch or a bump/dip that seemed more than the usual.

Our first stop was near Minamisoma, north of the evacuation zone by about 20 miles and two miles in from the ocean. We attempted to contact the homeowner and/or spot the cat but with no luck. This is not an atypical occurance. While not directly related to the earthquake , it is the type of rescue that Animal Garden does on a regular basis. The disaster(s) obviously increased the need.

We turned south and drove closer to the coast. At first, the area looked fine, and I had to

pay careful attention to notice anything amiss. Then suddenly we came around the corner of a road, and there in front of us was a huge, flat basin of destruction. There was nothing left but mud, ridges where road and embankments used to be, and a horrible, jumbled mass of flotsam and jetsam of what used to be farms, houses, and people's lives. The photos don't really capture the scale of it all. We were silent for quiet some time as we drove closer to it and through it on roads that had survived. Crushed cars, tractors, even a fire engine were scattered about. I'm sure we've all seen the footage on

television and the Internet.

As the land rose and fell, the watermark of the tsunami was clearly visible. It seemed that luck and topography made all the difference.

Using a map and Toshi's Iphone Google Maps, we carefully made our way through and out of the tsunami affected areas, heading toward the evacuation area.

On a related side note, we spoke with our friend, Shuji, about why so many people died in the

tsunami. "Why didn't they evacuate? Did the tsunami come too fast? What happened?" we asked him. He pointed out that there are many tsunami warnings in Japan and that many people had not taken it seriously. However, the largest factor was the sheer size of the tsunami. It exceeded all the projections and planning. People had evacuated. They ran to predetermined safe areas. And the waters still took them.

As we approached the evacuation zone, we encountered our first police check point. After Toshi explained our purpose, we were told that only residents and those on official business were allowed in. We drove further inland and met another check point. After that, Toshi turned onto a small road and drove up into the hills. Scouring the map and zooming in on Google Maps, he found what turned out to be a gravel, two-track road across a forested hillside that connected with a paved road on the other side. As we drove down the valley, passing many empty and shuttered houses, we wondered if we would find any animals.

Almost immediately, we spotted a dog trotting up the road toward us. We stopped and fed the

dog but were unable to determine if he was a stray. It was also obvious that he was not interested in being rescued. We checked the nearby houses, but no one was there, so we pushed on to the town of Odaka. While in the evacuation zone, we saw almost 10 dogs, most of which we were able to feed and none of whom we were able to capture. None looked emaciated or injured; they had been able to survive for at least a month already.

If you want to see a map of the route from Niigata to Odaka, try this link. The fourth and southern marker is the location of the Fukushima Daichi power plant, about 12 miles south of Odaka.

In downtown Odaka, we saw some serious earthquake damage, with many houses collapsed or tumbled into the street. The power was on, so the traffic lights eerily changed as no cars passed by. While not completely empty, it was quite eerie and felt like a ghost town. We finally reached the train station and cast about for the dogs. It was obvious from the mud on the road that the station, near the river, had flooded but not too deeply. We called out for the dogs and shook bowls full of food but to no avail. As it was growing dim and starting to rain, we decided to head north back out of the evacuation area. We had been warned about not being out in the rain with the potential fallout being collected in the drops of water.

We traced our route back, peering into yards and at houses, looking for animals that might need help. We were not comfortable with potentially trespassing, and media chatter of looters made us even more uncomfortable with our position. Once we scrambled back up the much more slippery two track, we breathed a sigh of relief as we left the evacuation zone.

As we drove away, sharing our thoughts and observations, we saw a bedraggled, wet dog walking down a sidewalk. Quickly stopping, we gave him some food and tried to assess his status. He had a collar but no tag. He was hungry and had an injured paw; he also had a cut above his eye and a gash on his nose. He was friendly and did not object to a leash. Again, we tried to contact nearby homeowners to see if he was a local dog but with no luck.

So we decided to load him in a cage and take him with us. It is a difficult decision. There have been cases where volunteers have accidentally rescued dogs that didn't need it. An irate phone call from an owner can result in a long and embarrassing return trip.

We turned west toward Niigata for a long trip home. It was even

longer thanks to the slow-moving convoy of Kobe police vehicles that completely hogged the road. Then the horrendous traffic jam in Fukushima made it worse. We didn't get back to the shelter until 1:00 am; a 16-hour round trip.

And, to top it all off, while we were stopped at a convenience store to get a drink and use the rest room, there was a 7.1 earthquake right under our feet that violently shook the van back and forth.

While it was a long and stressful day and we were only able to rescue one animal, I'm glad I had the opportunity to help and to see that area of Japan. It is definitely the strangest road trip I have ever taken...

Oh, you're probably wondering what they're calling the dog. It's "Benji" - short for "benri" (convenient) because he was rescued in the parking lot of a "conbini" (convenience store).

And if you want to see more photos, click on this link.

Helping our furry friends (Part I)

In the earthquake and subsequent tsunami, many lives were destroyed and many families were torn apart. Just as in many other countries, the Japanese people have pets that are considered as members of the family. Both owners and pets lost each other to the onrushing, unstoppable waters.

Then the nightmare of Fukushima Daichi nuclear power plant occurred. Thousands of households suddenly had to evacuate, leaving everything behind in the belief they would return very quickly. Pets were left with a bowl of water and a bowl of food, or they were turned loose. It has been almost a month.

Obviously, this has created a situation where many animals need help. Our friend, Ulara, first made us aware of this when she went north with a group of animal activists a few weeks ago. They rescued the animals they could and provided supplies to overwhelmed animal shelters and vets. A Facebook page was created, and suddenly, a coalition of animal shelters came into existence: JEARS (Japan Earthquake Animal Rescue and Support).

When Ulara's work as a journalist took her out of the country, she asked Joan to take over her duties with JEARS. One of the main organizers of JEARS, Isabella, who runs an animal hotel and shelter in Niigata, was on the phone to Joan almost every night, downloading the information of the day, with Joan frantically scribbling notes.

Like many foreigners in Japan, we desperately want to help. However, with our limited

Japanese, there is little we can do that the thousands of Japanese volunteers can't already do better. Obviously, in the face of these overwhelming problems, most of the rescue, recovery and restoration efforts are going towards helping humans, and not animals.

As Joan wanted to personally interview Isabella and others involved with JEARS and get better photos of the operation and animals, we asked if we could come up to Niigata and volunteer for a few days - maybe we could at least help a little bit in our own way.

An early morning express bus soon got us to Niigata where Isabella picked us up and drove us to

Animal Garden, her hotel/shelter. We quickly realized how serious the situation was as we saw their modest facility overwhelmed with more than 200 hundred animals: cats, dogs, and yes, a chicken. We helped as best we could with walking dogs, petting cats, and other chores.

I cleaned the cages of eight cats that had been left in a house in the Fukushima evacuation area by a "hoarder". I won't go into the details, but after a long time trapped in the house with no food and water, it was about as bad as you could imagine. Apparently it was a very difficult and traumatic experience for the rescue team.

These poor cats, now kept isolated due to fear of radiation, were

desperately unhappy and wanted affection. As I changed the absorbent pet sheets from the bottom of the cages and cleaned up any other mess, they frantically pressed themselves against the wire, meowing and crying. I started to cry. I'm crying now as I type this.

But, to be honest, it is hard to clean up cat pee and poop while crying, so I had to shut down that part of my heart. Similar to when I worked for the ambulance service and fire department, you cannot let the pain and suffering interfere with your work. You have to compartmentalize and do what you have to do. I couldn't stop the cats suffering, but I could damn well make sure they didn't have to crouch in their own urine and feces. It wasn't fun, but it felt good.

We spent the night in a simple, unheated cabin down the road. A good neighbor had donated the use of it for volunteers.

The next day was to be a big one for me as we were driving across the mainland to the earthquake and tsunami affected areas to rescue animals.

I would like to write more in this post, but it has been extremely difficult and somewhat painful, and has tired me out. I'll continue tomorrow.

Weirdest. Hike. Ever.

Our plan was to go backpacking and snowshoeing when we got back from our month's trip to America, but Joan's leg injury from walking in bad boots and then an impromptu Nitendo Wii Dance Party competition put her out of commission.

I had been chafing at the bit to get out and do some backpacking as the weather was quite warm and pleasant. To the west of us, still technically in Tokyo, are some mountains (really big hills) that have a lot of trails and some mountain huts. Hiking is very popular in Japan, and on weekend mornings, the west-bound trains are full of people fully decked out in way too much gear on their way to day hikes.

On topographical maps I had purchased earlier, I had identified some emergency huts where one can stay for free. We had stayed in similar huts up in Hokkaido and wanted to see if it was the same down here. Eventually, there is a four or five-day backpacking trip that I want to try in the Okutama region. I also had bought new hiking boots - big, Italian, full-leather monsters - that needed to be broken in. I had done hours of walking in flat Musashisakai but nothing uphill.

So, with a good forecast, I picked out an ambitious overnight route that would visit a hut midday with an overnight in a second one. The next day would stop by a third hut before descending back into the valley to catch a train home in the afternoon. This would be perhaps my first solo trip.

I will let the photos do most of the talking about what I saw. They can be seen here at this link:

Okutama backpacking trip

The main problem was that I started developing a blister on the heel of my right foot from the new boots - rats! I decided to switch to my Teva sandals and kept pushing up the trail. It was fine until I hit the snow; the sandals don't have much traction. So, I put the left boot back on and struggled up the steep trail, slipping and sliding. This combined with about a month and a half of not much exercise and a backpack was quite slow and exhausting. When I finally made it to the top of the snowy, icy ridge, at least two hours behind schedule, I was tired and a little shaky. I decided to change the plan and just continue to the first hut to spend the night. I could reassess in the morning and decide then.

Well, when I reached the area where the emergency hut was supposed to be, on the side of the mountain, it wasn't there. However, there was a newer toilet hut, as well as a lot of weird buildings and structures - but no people. I pitched my hammock on what I assume is an old helicopter landing pad, based on structure and painted markings to catch my breath and enjoy the last of the sunshine - also to experience some of the most excruciating leg cramps I have ever had.

After awhile, I put my sandals back on and started spooking around, thinking about where I might sleep. I had not brought a tent, just a sleeping pad, bag, and hammock for relaxing. The mountain tea hut looked all raggedy and run down from the outside but seemed functional on the inside. Almost everything was still in place; it really felt like aliens had suddenly abducted everybody. Nothing was locked. Just down hill, there was another building that was a small ryokan (inn) with a dining room, dismantled kitchen area and sleeping rooms upstairs, with closets full of futons and blankets. I initially thought about making a nest up in one of the rooms.

Then I went down to the larger building, which looked like a 1970's commune retreat center.

From what I could see, I think it is a temple or retreat center for a Daoist religious group. While mostly empty, most of the building is in fine shape. However, in the central, round tower room, where many alters and other religious items where still on full display, the roof was leaking and causing extensive water damage. It was weird, weird, weird!

I spent a full 30 minutes exploring the warren of rooms and hallways before decided to stay in a

sun-warmed, carpeted and dry room with a fantastic view of Tokyo and closets full of futons and blankets. The room had some items (rolls of toilet paper, flashlight, box of clothes, etc.) that made it look like some had been staying there somewhat recently. I found some religious publications from as recent as 2008.

With my stove on a low table in front of the windows and sitting in a lawn chair I found in a storage closet, I made a dinner of instant ramen and watched the night fall on Tokyo. As it grew dark, the lights below began to create a sea of sparkling colors. It was completely silent and weird, weird, weird.

Finally around 8 pm, exhausted and, quite frankly, bored to death, I crawled into my nest of futons and blankets and fell asleep, listening to the unknown creaks, drips, bangs, and other sounds of the building.

I awoke at dawn and made coffee. Wrapped in a blanket, I watched the sun rise over Tokyo and

enjoyed its heat. Feeling much about the prospects of the day, I made a plan to hike to the second hut to check it out and head down from there. It was too far to make it to the third hut, and I didn't want to push my luck with the new boots. I had found a roll of duct tape in the tea house and was able to tape up the heel enough to hike the rest of the day.

Starting around 7 a.m., it was a great hike along the snowy ridge on a beautiful and sunny day. After about four hours, I reached the other mountain, where I cooked lunch and tended to my heel. From there, I headed down a trail

to the Okutama station, about three hours away. The downhill section was great as it took any pressure or friction off my heel, and I made good time.

Along the trail down the valley, I found some other excellent waterfall swimming opportunities and other interesting sites. And yet, another weird thing. I was striding along a flat section of the trail, at the base of a cedar-covered slope alongside the river, when seemingly out of nowhere, a large dead animal was just lying on the side of the trail, really

startling me. It turns out it was a "kamoshika"- a rare goat-antelope. There were no obvious signs of injury or decomposition: old age? sickness?

Eventually, I reached the end of the trail and started hiking along the road down to the bottom of the valley. It eventually joined a larger road that followed the Tamagawa river and led to the train station. With relief, I caught a train and sank into a seat.

Overall, it was a good but weird trip. I am excited to go back to explore the area and go deeper into the mountains. However, I need to figure out the boot situation and will try to drag someone else along next time. Many of you will not be surprised to hear that solo hiking is not for me!

Back to normal?

Perhaps it's sign of returning to normal...

I went with Shuji (a friend who works in the international student office next to mine at Asia University) to Koganei park with his dogs, Mei and Kopi.

Of course, we had to schedule a trip to a ramen shop! In Musashikoganei, near the park, there is a street nicknamed "Ramen Dori" - (Ramen street). Among the many ramen shops is Jiro ramen, famous for the size and taste of their ramen - mostly their size, though. With 33 shops in Tokyo, it is a kind of White Castle of Ramen.

We arrived around 3 pm to find not an empty seat. So, we ordered the small, basic ramen and settled on to the waiting stools. As we watched people tuck into their ramen, we saw some patrons served their ramen - huge, heaping, steaming bowls of ramen. We looked at other each with fear in our eyes. Shuji said, "Oh my God, I hope that's a large!"

Nope. It was the small. Delicious. Ginormous. Distended-belly making.

We struggled through the ordeal, groaning and whimpering like everyone else in the shop. Finally, we declared a partial victory and fled to the sunny street. Luckily, we were headed to the park after lunch and were able to walk some of it off.

While I would recommend the experience, we may have to wait awhile before we can muster the courage to do it again!