Touring vs. Traveling

A great American historian noted forty years ago that American affluence promoted more tourism than travel. We seek out, he asserted, the exotic and colorful pseudo experiences that bring status but don't really challenge our cultural assumptions. We want our journeys to deliver us to Kodak photo opportunities but put us up in facilities with plumbing we find comfortable and food we find palatable. Our trip, I think, is heavy on the travel aspects because we're favored with a real mission (it's about the music, folks), and we enjoy the sheer good luck that the troupe of chaperones is compatible enough that we've found roles within our adult group which challenge us enough but strain us no more than we can handle. So that's my take so far, we've miles to go before returning to our own.
So what this weblog would like to do, finding time and energy, is blurt out some impressions and notions without adulteration of facts, research, or much authority beyond my own nose.
What you really want to know about back home is those toilets which squirt your butt, right? Well, we're leaving the Prince Hotel this morning, and I just tried out our deluxe heated seat, water-level--adjusting, fart-sucking, doubles-as-bidet, and adjustable-water-temp and force-of-flow toilet. I can say that it works and it is the most unusual, well almost, lower G.I. experience I've had in many years. You have vivid imaginations so I'll leave it at that.
Other notable adventures in the briefest log notation:
The flight was long (doh) and the seats were too small, but the service and food were excellent.
Our agency hosts/facilitators are organized, responsive (especially the lovely and entertaining Harumi), and competent. We've yet to miss a plane, train, or bus, and we've established good internal lines of communication and accountability, none of which means a damn without the students' cooperation which has been remarkable, exemplary, a joy. It is a privilege for me to be here and entrusted with some oversight of your sons and daughters. This is a wonderful group of kids and fiercely passionate musicians.
St. Paul's school is immaculate; the all-boys student body has produces some musicians of excellence. Their performance was tight as a drum and they were justly proud of their program. Their sound was full (a big big band), and orchestral (including two tubas, timpani, flutes and clarinets--truly a wind orchestra more than a jazz group. Some of the boys, nearly all seemed much younger than our kids, implored Akeem to rap and he obliged with grace and humor, assisted by Nathan and Samora with mouth music. The home stay experiences were mixed, but even the ones clearly less enjoyable held valuable lessons in the observations of local customs, other peoples' family dynamics, and just the insights gained from travel rather than tourism. Our concluding piece at the St; Paul's concert was not in our band's play list and was essentially sight-read on the spot and done pretty damn well at that. The parents of our host students were gracious and attentive at performance.

This place is very expensive. We all knew that coming in, but I find myself spending more money than I intended with the persuasive rationale that this is a once-in-a-lifetime shot for me--not only in the geographic context but also in the company of my fine fellow chaperones.

My roomie Mark has made a fabulous contribution to my enjoyment and edification, as well as to the travel-is-broadening aspect of the experience of all the parents aboard. He has initiatives daily and through his proposals, our unencumbered-by-kids- time has been wild. We have made forays into the vastness of Tokyo, including a little hole-in-the-wallo restaurant (?!) which was a one man operation where the sake was dispensed through gag containers including a naked boy statue who pissed the beverage into your cup and a mug (for sake--couldn't be more un-Japanese) which shook like the "DT's" when you picked it up and attempted to drink. There we were, eight of us, trying to sit on the floor with our less flexible knees and joints complaining loudly while this wild man attacked us with schtick which probably would become funnier and funnier them more sake you drank or the more you were a fan of the THree Stooges rolled into one. We didn't stay for food, made out escape and were even accosted by him on the street half a block into our getaway. Memorable!
We wandered late looking for a place to celebrate Mark's fiftieth birthday, eventually found a good place which served those language-impaired like us, had a wonderful late dinner and made it safely to the hotel.

We can't credit Mark with the fish-market-before dawn proposal which was espoused by several, including Ruth, but it was really tough to get up after such a late night and still shaking off jet lag, etc., but we did it, I think seven of us, and it was an absolutely, for me, essential and provocative excursion. The Tokyo distribution system for produce and foodstuffs of every kind is understandably vast for a city of 12 million or so. The fish section is incredible. Most notable, which you will all see in our photos eventually, was a huge, maybe football-field-sized refrigerated hall with orderly rows of tuna, sorted by species, variety, weight, and company, all of which were auctioned off in a very short time by incredibly loud and animated auctioneers. The buyers studied the catch (all fast and deep frozen on board factory ships at sea) by hacking out chunks from the tail cut, kneading it in their palms, studying its color and texture with powerful flashlights, and then tasting it. There is a reason that eating fresh fish for breakfast works so well around here. The fish is incredibly fresh, well selected and handled to bring it to table. The scale of the operation inevitably provokes questions about the decline in the world's fisheries and how we can redirect our efforts to a sustainable global public policy on how to feed ourselves from the diminishing bounty of the sea. Somewhere also, out of view, the Japanese are harvesting and buying/selling whales. That is not publicly available as far as I know, but one wonders.

This morning we are heading for the bullet train to Osaka.
Kids are in the breakfast line and we have to make this train on time.
I have to suspend this and save my reflections on last night's excursion to the most intense juvenile consumer culture experience I ever imagined. My mind still reels. So later.
Chuck