That's a Huge Buddha!

The Daibutsu in Narita is the tallest standing Buddha statue in the world. It's got more stone than Stonehenge. More daunting than an American Idol judging panel. Bigger than Barack Obama.

Standing strong at 120 meters tall, Ushiku Daibutsu is serene and powerful, commanding yet respectful. Leading up to the park is a variety of small shops with snacks, mini statues, toys, jewelry and other Buddha-related merchandise. Also precluding the giant meditator is a huge park with gorgeous flora and fish (more on that later, trust me).

And, there's a series of obstacles that must be passed expertly to gain entrance, like striking a bell with a hammer, performing ritual water motions, and striking a bigger bell with a bigger hammer. After all that, the glory that is the world's biggest Daibutsu dwarfs everyone who comes to see it. (I chronicled the trip through Misto's eyes because, well, it was much cuter that way.)

On a clear day, I can actually see this sucker from the balcony outside my room. It's about an inch high.

Daibutsu was built in 1995, which means it is modern enough to include an entire Buddha museum on the inside, about 85 meters in the air. The self-guided tour ends with a view out of the big guy's chest through skinny slits that are barely visible from the ground, but the colorful surprises inside were almost more astonishing than the view from the outside.

Well, not really -- I hadn't been that wow'd in a long time, but the Fantasia-like maelstrom of colors was like a weird dream.

Then there was a giant shrine to probably every golden Buddha ever made. (Game: Can you find the missing statue?)

And, before I forget, what trip to the world's biggest peace statue would be complete without an entirely gimmicky monkey show?

After exploring Buddha's lungs for about an hour, we spent a long time in the park surrounding it because it was such a nice day. The smell of budding cherry blossoms was in the air, there wasn't a skyscraper for miles away, and the disgusting carp were gurgling just as nature intended.

Wait, carp?

Yes, carp! Apparently the Japanese thought it'd be a great idea to dump about 5 million of these nasty wigglers smack in the middle of the most peaceful place in Ibaraki Prefecture. The water in the pond is only about two inches deep, so the fish literally swim on top of each other, a population catastrophe that is made worse by the fact that you can buy fish-food pellets and taunt them menacingly for hours.

We obviously did that.

Ahh!! Imagine that thing fanning its fins toward you as if it hasn't eaten in weeks. And you're holding a bag full of what I can only assume is the carp equivalent of gummy bears. (I actually got mauled by a pack of these guys showing me their best "O Face" when I held up my hand full of food above them, and they all splashed at once and got my jeans wet. Worth it.)

After the fun fish fest, we drove the hour-ride back to Inzai, and by "we drove" I mean that Kohei tried to stay awake at the wheel while the rest of us dozed. When we got back, we had a delicious birthday dinner for me: spaghetti (my favorite, duh, although topped with seafood) with vegetables and cheese dip, and a big chocolate-chocolate cake for desert.

Shoa, naturally, got chocolate all over her face.

It was an exhausting yet fulfilling day. Thanks, Buddha.

The Future Has Arrived

If I had to summarize the artificial island Odaiba in one word, it would be "futuristic." If you gave me two words, they would probably be "freaking weird."

Odaiba is a man-made fantasy floating by the Sumidagawa River, and from which you can see the Tokyo skyline, the Rainbow Bridge and the Statue of Liberty.

What? The Statue of Liberty?

That's right -- and did I mention that the Rainbow Bridge is essentially a brighter Brooklyn Bridge? Add the towering skyscrapers that reflect in the Hudson-like river, and you've got yourself a scene from New York City replicated halfway across the world.

On the island itself is a variety of shopping centers, hotels and other buildings from the future, particularly the Fuji Television building, whose architect was probably M.C. Escher. A giant silver orb juts out from the top of the monstrosity, a bit off-center but big enough that the tumor is viewable from miles away. At night, it lights up in different colors.

To get into the building to take the free self-guided tour, you have to enter an escalator tube that is reminiscent of both Futurama and Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator. Once inside, there's a smorgasbord of children's TV characters and bright colors, including a green screen that transposes ant images onto people. There are also descriptions of TV shows like "Hey! Say! JUMP" and "HEY! HEY! HEY! Music Champ."

Inside one of the shopping malls was an electronics store that might as well have been named, "Things That Might Be Popular in 2050." In the store was a series of laptops. Some were the Japanese Sony Vaio "pocket" computers that are about four inches wide and can fit into the back pocket of a pair of jeans. Others had built-in webcams that were automatically catching everyone who walked by and manipulating their images -- I was, for example, shoved into the helmet of a football player dashing down the field. Other effects had funhouse mirror results, and some were as random as a Jackson Pollock Spin Art design.

And then there was the "Rolly," a species of wireless music speakers that not only play songs -- they dance to them, spinning around on the table and flapping their oval wings. Nothing practical about that, but the Japanese people there loved it.

Making the whole time travel more enjoyable for me was the company of a dozen or so public-relations students from Indiana University whom I met up with, because the woman leading their week-long tour is the wife of the dean who led us around over the summer. I met them in Asakusa and, after they realized I spoke minimal Japanese, showed some of them around and helped them order lunch at a small noodle restaurant.

Being the gorgeous and crisp spring day that it was, the shrine was packed as usual. Maybe it was just me, but there seemed to be a lot more kids running around ...

So that was Odaiba, which was chronologically opposite from the previous weekend, when I went to a Farmers Market in Yogogi Park. I didn't eat lunch that day because I had enough free samples of super delicious Japanese food to hold me over well throughout the night. The sashimi, crackers and lemon-grass tea were easily the best-tasting.

But the best-looking were the pea and the peanut:

And, of course, the giant cow behind which dozens of kids were waiting for their turn to milk her.

It was udderly enjoyable.

Blast From the (Sort of) Past

Perhaps appropriately marking my halfway point in Japan, my parents and brother visited me this week and frolicked around Tokyo for a few days, courtesy of my dad's frequent-flier miles. I shoved as many must-see spots in three short days as possible, and in a sort of Jetsons-meet-the-Flintstones moment, my real family even came to Inzai to have dinner with my Japanese host parents.

Of course, I, the constant tourist struggling to learn the Japanese language through immersion, played the role of translator. Which really meant that everyone at dinner spent most of the time laughing -- at me.

Naw, it wasn't that bad. But Mr. and Mrs. Hirao were amazed at my younger brother's height and curly hair, as well as my family's ability to use chopsticks. Yes, host parents, we have chopsticks in the United States. If only I knew how to say that in Japanese.





And Mrs. Hirao even showed us all of her kimonos (a first for me, too), and let my mom try some of them on, including the most expensive one, which may cost about $8,000, if I interpreted that correctly.



We ate a bunch of sushi with our hands for dinner, and then oranges and tea afterward. Mr. Hirao gave my brother a Mercedes-Benz watch and my dad a Jaguar flask, and Mrs. Hirao meant to give my mom chopsticks but forgot. (I'll bring them home in April.) As gifts for my temporary parents, the Negrins brought Barack Obama T-shirts (he's pretty much Jesus here), an inauguration magazine and a box of chocolates (pretty much what Jesus would have eaten here).

I also took my parents on a grand walking tour around Ginza and to the Imperial Palace, Akihabara, Shibuya and Harajuku on the first day. We also visited Asakusa Shrine, a beautiful Buddhist area of worship that is precluded by a long street with what seems like hundreds of fun, cheap shops. I had been there in the summer, but apparently as springtime nears, they put pretty cherry blossom imitation flowers above all of the stores.





Also, I feel obligated to post these next two photographs. One is for my Obamabot friends, and the other is for you Final Fantasy freaks:





And finally, my brother tried Takoyaki (fried octopus in dough balls) for the first time. It was pretty epic. He spilled all over himself, but we actually got the tasty treats in Ginza for free, because the octopus chef felt that it was crucial that my brother try it. (Good thing I knew the Japanese word for "first time.") I think, all in all, my family had a very fun, if very brief, time in Tokyo.





As they left Japan, I readjusted back into my somewhat normal life on the other side of the world. The extended Hirao family came over Friday, which was great because I hadn't seen Kohei and his kids in a couple of weeks. I spent a lot of time talking and playing with Misto and Shoa (5 and 2 years old, respectively). Also, since I taught them how to "fist bump," they've become obsessed with it.

Interacting with them basically turned out to be a combination of boasting my conversational Japanese and performing elementary magic tricks that spooked the socks off of the kids -- and even Kohei.

In case anyone is worried about my job prospects in journalism, I think being a magician is a fall-back career I should seriously consider. At least, in Japan. I'm huge in Japan.