Wife of the Year (Or: Harajuku Girls)

We are back in Tokyo and spent yesterday touring the "youth" districts of Harajuku Street and Akihabara. In sharp contrast to the more traditional side of Japan, these areas highlight the anime-loving, video-game-playing generations. Since these kiddos engage in "cosplay" (costume play), it is common to walk down the street and see them dressed up as various anime and movie characters. These areas are also famous for maid cafes, where waitresses are dressed as a slightly clean version of French maids, and fawn over their male customers, calling them master and folding their hands into hearts, bowing like love-stricken teenagers.

Um, no.

But we enjoyed the spectacle. And I had Gwen Stefani's Harajuku Girls running through my mind the entire time.

We found Lucy a new friend inside a Hello Kitty store and I snapped this pic of G while he was standing in line to buy it. The phrase sticks out like a sore thumb comes to mind.

Don't feel too sorry for G, though. Surrounded by modeling kits in one of the most technologically-advanced cities in the world? He was in Heaven. He has absolutely filled our suitcases with crap, man dolls various models. And posters. And magazines.

And Godzilla.

The original Japanese movie company that created and produced Godzilla (Toho industries) converted one of their old buildings into a Godzilla hotel. His enormous head pokes over the top and it really looks like he's attacking the city!

We had drinks and dessert in the roof top cafe, and this was the view!

G, of course, ordered the Godzilla special, a volcano-shaped cake surrounded by ominous footprints, served with a steaming, mysterious cup of ice cream and foil-stamped pieces of Godzilla chocolates.

And, while we're at it, let's not feel too sorry for G. All this sympathy for him because he can't eat the food? Mmmmm, no. Because when we're really in a bind and we're sweating bullets trying not to offend the natives, who gets treated like a human garbage disposal? Me! Who ends up swallowing an aquarium? Me! So, everybody just calm down with the pearl clutching and tsk-tsking about poor G. Cool your jets. He's fine.

He spent hours and hours in model stores yesterday while I folded myself up in the aisles and waited.

Wife of the year, folks. Right here.

Although. He packed enough granola bars to last him this whole trip but he finished them three days ago. So. It's time to go.