Stil jetlagged, I woke several times during the night, and finally got up at 6. Luckily the resort‘s coffee shop opened then, too, and I brought cappuccinos to the room. We had a very nice breakfast in the main restaurant, Core; modern room with tons of windows looking out into the mountains. Sue had her first dip in the pool, sharing it with one other lap swimmer. I played with my camera, which I’m just getting to know, while Sue swam.
Sue had discovered that the pants she had with her had a tear, so we headed out to try to find something…and were 0. We found an outlet mall with a lousy selection (although I did supplement my flimsy Maui Jim’s with a sturdy pair of Oakley’s) and then a mall with mostly closed stores. So we hightailed it back to meet my family.
Mary L. and Connie are my first cousins; we share a grandfather, but not a grandmother. Our mothers were exceptionally close for half-sisters.
They had driven down with their husbands Mike and Paul to spend the day with us. Mary and Mike spend the winters in Arizona, so far in a RV trailer, but, starting next year, in a condo purchased by their daughter for them!
We had a very good lunch at Turquesa, the Latin Grill in the pool complex; my tacos (swordfish, chicken tinga, carne asada) were delicious, and I had my first Arizona craft beer, a Citrazona.
We spent the whole afternoon in conversation with them; it got a little long for Sue (and presumably for Mike and Paul) as we tried to reconstruct our family history. But it was a great visit and we hope to see them next year.
After a siesta we booked a table at Ignite, the resort‘s restaurant on the terrace looking into the mountains. The food was pretty mediocre (Sue had salmon, I had gorditas), but the worst was yet to come: an email from my buddy Ralph: „Are you close?“ I had mixed up the dates for our dinner with him, and he and a friend were at our table at a restaurant downtown. I wrote right back (no cell number for him), and checked my phone frantically…but no answer.
We took a walk and headed for our room, and, when we went to sleep, still no word. I had to assume that he was furious, and I was terribly upset with myself.
I woke (at six again) to find an email from Ralph agreeing, very nicely, to dinner tonight. He had composed it last night but forgot to send it! Sue started her day with a swim at 7:30 while I got coffee and read by the pool. The highlight of the morning was a critter sighting: Sue saw a Gila Monster right by the path from hotel to pool! These are shy creatures, and Sue has now seen two of them on three visits!
We staked out a table and read and relaxed until lunch, at which point Sue had a glass of wine and I had a frozen pina colada. We repeated the tacos of the day before and they were just as good.
Around two we headed out for some shopping. The only disadvantage of the resort is its distance even from northern Tucson: 35 minutes to Patti and David‘s on Skyline Drive. But Sue found some nice pants at the ritzy mall, La Encantada, at Campbell and Skyline, and then we took a drive down memory lane, driving by our house on Via Alcalde and by the site of the old Adobe casita on River Road next to Saint Phillips in the Hills.
We then bought wine and mezcal for the weekend in Mexico and headed home by way of my high school, Canyon del Oro. What a shock! I was in the first graduating class, 152 strong; they now graduate 2000 per class!
After some more relaxation, we drove into town for dinner with Ralph at a lovely restaurant, the Agustin Kitchen in the old Mercado near downtown. The tables spill out into the center of the old open-air market. And, in April, even a hot day gets pleasantly cool by early evening.
It was great to see Ralph; he‘s as cycle obsessed as ever and mercifully fully recovered from his last serious run-in with a pickup truck (he‘s had no less than three life-threatening accidents). We had a lovely meal (striped bass for Sue; cioppino for me; steak for Ralph; and we shared some delicious red Chile calamari to start). The wine list had some gems at unbelievable prices: a Bruno Giacosa Barbera for 45 bucks.
We were invited to Dora and Barry B.’s house in Singing Valley, near Sonoita, Arizona. David wanted to make an early start, so Sue swam early again; we only had coffee after our big dinner the night before. We were at their place at 9:30. We drove through some of the old neighborhoods around the university and then headed for Sonoita. The drive takes you through a pass to the east of the Santa Rita Mountains. It is a gorgeous drive; the landscape changes dramatically as we rose out of the Sonoran Desert and into the high desert chaparral at the foot of Mount Wrightson (9458 feet). At its high point, the plateau around Sonoita is at 5000 feet, and looks very much like Tuscany.
Around ten years ago David and Patti bought a little home on top of a hill with extraordinary views all around; Patti has remodeled it, and it really is lovely. Sue and I both loved the Acacia flooring.
The panoramic views are extraordinary.
We couldn‘t linger because we were due at Dora and Barry‘s house at noon; they live five minutes away. The house is interesting; David supervised a crew of friends who worked together to build a stone house to Dora‘s design in the late 1970‘s. Thom and Michelle soon joined us, and we did a bit of indoor group portrait work.
We had a movable feast, moving from Barry’s music studio (where he played “Long Time Comin'”) to the house and garden, and then back for cold cuts and cheese in the studio. Conversation was lively, and before we knew it it was 6 PM and we headed back to Tucson.
We had a late dinner at Ignite, and this time it was pretty good: excellent burgers.
Up very early and at David and Patti‘s at 8 AM for the drive to Puerto Penasco, a town at the northern end of the Sea of Cortes. I drove with David in his monster truck and Sue joined Patti and her sister Deb in her Outback. It was great to see Deb again; she had been one of the Time Travelers in Burma in 2019. A really lovely person.
The drive down to the border gorgeous: high Sonoran Desert, with astonishing numbers of cholla, ocotillo, palos verdes, and saguaro.
For the first third of the drive, we looked up at Kitt Peak National Observatory, which sits at the top of a high mountain ridge.
The high, bulbous peak in the background is Babaquivari, the sacred peak of the Tohono O’odham Nation.
Baboquivari Peak (7730 feet) is the center of the Tohono O’odham cosmology and the home of the creator, I’itoi; it is regarded as the navel of the world — a place where the earth opened and the people emerged after the great flood. Today, the peak stands at the edge of the 2,900,000-acre Tohono O’odham Nation (second largest reservation in the United States).
Just north of the border is the little town of Why. Arizona has many towns with charming names: Tuba City, Bumblebee, etc., and Why ranks among the best…particularly after you’ve seen the town. South of Why is Organ Pipe National Monument, with its profusion of, what else, organ pipe cacti.
We zoomed across the border at Sonoyta, a large town in Sonora State. The B’s have a long relationship with a family named Vasquez who, like many folks in this region, have moved back and forth across the border. We stocked up on tequila and the particular Mexican imitation of Cointreau called Controy.
Grab it if you can find it: it makes for killer margaritas–especially if you can get hold of the little Mexican limes!
The road south of the border leads through a lower, more barren section of desert with low volcanic peaks and an enormous caldera. As we neared the sea, David negotiated a series of increasingly sandy dirt roads that led through one little seaside community after another, each with its own gate and security system. Their community, Estero Morua, is the last one on the narrow isthmus between the sea and the Morua estuary.
Patti’s grandparents built a fishing shack out of reeds right on the water in the early 1960’s; of the forty families that are part of the community, theirs is the longest continuous ownership.
David and Patti built a concrete shell around the house, and it is very comfortable inside: one large room with kitchen, sitting area, and beds, and one more private bedroom…we were privileged to sleep in the honeymoon suite! The house is totally off grid: solar electric, propane stove and refrigerator, two huge water tanks for shower, toilet, and dishwashing. They have to bring their own drinking water..and lots of it.
Living here is a constant challenge: the sea experiences tidal ranges of up to 16 feet, and the tide is gradually carrying away the sandy isthmus on which the house stands. Several houses have been washed away already, but there is no general community response, with the result that each house has to defend itself. David and Patti and their neighbor have built a large seawall out of volcanic boulders. You can just see their roofline to the right of the house with multiple windows.
After we got settled in, we all took a long walk along the beach, paying particular attention to the large flocks of birds: pelicans, cormorants, sandpipers, and a charming species called the Oyster Hunter with long orange bills.
We decided that we would need some sustenance before heading out for a sunset walk, so Deb mixed up a batch of wonderful margaritas.
The evening walk into the sunset was amazing. As the sun set, we could see the outlines of Baja across the sea. This image gives a good sense of the tidal effect: you can walk out almost a third of a mile.
Back at the manse, we feasted on a fettuccini boglonese that David had made, washed down with a very nice Moccagatta Barbera that we had brought. Early to bed!
David and I had hoped to go out in his two sit on top kayaks, but the wind was really ripping, causing large waves and strong currents.
We took a walk up the road instead; Patti told us a good bit about the history—and the trials and tribulations—of the Homeowners’ Association. Most of the houses are rather modest, but a few are very large, and a few are very garish.
Hoping that the wind would die down, we all piled into the truck and drove into town. We never saw the promenade along the sea—cars were backed up for many blocks. We did some shopping for the girls at a large, very nice crafts store. There were many things we might have brought home if we has a way to get them there!
Like many stores in Mexico, there was a goodly supply of Day of the Dead ware!
The B’s then went on autopilot, visiting some of their favorite spots to assemble a dinner. First came a fish store, where we bought more shrimp than we could possibly eat. Then on to a place that serves complete roast chicken dinners: chicken, frijoles refritos, and flour tortillas. Here’s a guy chopping our chicken into pieces.
We then went down the road to a tortilleria, where we supplemented our stock of flour tortillas, added some corn tortillas, and even more beans!
Back at home, we boiled the shrimp and left them in the fridge to cool while we went back to the beach for a long walk away from the mouth of the estuary.
The margarita session was even more serious: we had to compare the drink with tequila versus mezcal…and mezcal won. Here’s David working the antique cast iron lime press and adding the Controy.
They went pretty well with the shrimp, totopos, and a variety of salsas that Patti whipped up on the spot. The dinner that followed was great: the chicken and beans were delicious, and the flour tortillas the kind I remembered: thin and very slightly buttery. I did have to say that my corn tortillas were better!
The last full day in Tucson was a bit of a blur. We had a big breakfast–green corn tamales, eggs with chorizo, and tortillas–and then packed up and closed the house. The trip back was fast, just a bit more than four hours, and we zipped through the border.
Back at the Catalina Foothills Estates condominiums, we were greeted by David’s brother Kim and his wife Lou; I’ve known Kim almost as long as I’ve known David, and it was great to see them. They had just joined the commune, purchasing the end condo on David and Patti’s side.
We then popped by to say goodbye to the Laursens, but they were’t having it, and insisted that we come back for a drink before dinner.
Back in the car, we wanted to check out resorts for a possible return with the whole family. We drove through the Westin La Paloma, but it seemed pretty slick. We walked through the Loew’s Ventana Canyon (where I had stayed for my 40th reunion), but it was pretty tired and unappealing. We decided just to save the extra money and go back to Dove Mountain.
Thom mixed us up a potent drink with mezcal, asperol, and one other ingredient, and they showed us plans for their new house in Park City and photos of the surrounding mountains. Spectacular! All too soon it was time to say goodbye and head up the hills to dinner at Dora and Barry’s.
Patti and David were there too; Dora had gone all out, and we had a delicious dinner. First drinks and nibbles on the terrace overlooking town, then dinner in the patio. The lively conversation could have gone on for much longer, but we (thought we) had an early flight and had booked a mass market hotel at the airport and got on the road by 9:30.
Sue has already been in Asia for ten days, doing foundation work in Myanmar (and sweltering in the Burmese monsoon); she flies east through Hong Kong on Friday evening. Our dear friends the Bans and I fly west on Friday morning. If all goes according to plan, we will meet in Tokyo on Saturday.
After months of reading and conversations with Japan hands–thanks to Chris and Rick K., Tom H., Matt W., and Andrew and Emily J.!–I may be ready for the cultural contradiction of modern Japan. Stay tuned.
After a surprisingly easy flight, I found navigating Narita airport similarly unproblematic. Internet coaches had prescribed a routine for arrival: 1) get lots of cash, because Japan, for all its hypermodernity, is surprisingly credit card unfriendly; 2) get a “cash card” and charge it with lots of money, because the Tokyo subways are privatized and the cash card is the only thing accepted everywhere; and 3) turn in my prepaid vouchers for a Japan Rail Pass. This last all went smoothly for me; my poor wife, on the other hand, was coming from Burma and arrived at 6 AM at Haneda, Tokyo’s second airport. It took her three hours to get her rail pass, and she couldn’t find an ATM that took international credit cards (that, too, is a Japanese peculiarity: the very best ATM’s for gringos are, wait for it, 7-Eleven!).
After 40 minutes on the Narita Express, eerily reminiscent of the Heathrow Express, I found myself in the bowels of Tokyo Station, one of the busiest stations in the world. As we’d been told, virtually all the signage now has a brief English explanation, so that, too, alleviated any trepidation about getting around. Totally unlike Burma, our only previous Asian experience, where the signs are not just in Burmese: even the maps, insofar as they exist, are totally incomprehensible.
Reunited with my wife at our hotel, we ventured out for a bite and discovered, to our delight, that the famous ramen shop Ippudo was 100 yards away. There are now sleeker branches around the world, but the Ginza locale retains a lot of its original character: small, friendly, rough edged, with stools ranged along rustic wooden counters full of condiments. This is Hakata style ramen, with – thin, non-curly straight paler yellow noodles, basked in rich milky tonkatsu pork bone broth. Mine came with think slices of tonkatsu, a whole, runny egg, seaweed, and cabbage. Really delicious. I could actually survive the whole trip just on ramen, but I’m sure more delights await us. We also shared a great plate of little pan fried dumplings.
Our first full day took us from the extreme traditionalism of a Shinto shrine to the garish neon modernity of Ginza Crossing. And we loved every minute of it.
We had breakfast at our hotel, a buffet with plenty of choices. Our hotel, the Millennium Matsui Garden, doesn’t have a lot to recommend it besides the location–in the heart of Ginza and right at a metro station. It is a newish property, and the rooms are fine if rather small; a thin veneer of style seeks to hide its deficiencies, which include the lack of a lobby, a real bar, and a helpful staff.
The Tokyo subway certainly lives up to its billing: easy to navigate, fast, and with remarkable coverage of central Tokyo.
Our first stop was the Meiji-Jingu Shrine, a Shinto shrine built in 1920 to house the soul of the Emperor and Empress who brought the capital to Tokyo from Kyoto. The shrine seems much older, not merely because of the extreme traditionalism of its architecture, but especially because of the verdant, mature park in which the shrine sits. One approaches through Torii gates, the traditional sign for a Shinto shrine; literally bird abode, the Torii marks the passage from the profane to the sacred precinct.
As you approach the shrine, you purify your hands and mouth; it seems that at least some part of the Japanese obsession with hygiene derives from the Shinto injunctions regarding purification and defilement (obligatory disquisition on the Japanese toilet to follow).
The shrine itself consists of a huge entrance courtyard with a smaller sanctuary at the rear. The shrine is full of people yet doesn’t seem crowded; many of those present are families with women and children in traditional dress.
I was able to get this family portrait because the group asked Vladimir to take it for them and I piggybacked.
The shrine is a popular site for weddings; we saw at least five of them. The bride and groom are led in solemn procession by two priests and two “temple maidens.” The wedding itself consists of a Shinto liturgy and a ritual dance by one of the young women.
From the shrine we walked along another path in the park and then along Omotesande, the boulevard at the center of Tokyo’s “fashion town.” Tokyoites dress very formally; even the young are well turned out, some in rather classic style, some at fashion’s sharp edge.
The boulevard leads directly to a remarkable place, the Nezu Museum, a private collection of Asian art and antiquities. Housed in a gorgeous building and embraced by a spectacularly beautiful garden, this is one of the most moving museums we’ve ever visited.
Women waiting for a tea ceremony, Nezu Museum GardenMain Gallery, Nezu Museum
The museum holds a vast collection, and the building is large enough to house a warren of galleries, but it is divided instead into just six large galleries. When we visited, two of these were given over to a special exhibit of birds and flowers in Asian art centered on a series of exquisite painted scrolls and panels from China, Japan, and Korea. Another gallery held just three large wooden polychrome statues of the boddhisatva of healing; these were some of the loveliest Buddhist art I’ve ever seen. In the upstairs galleries, the first held a series of Chinese cast bronze vessels from the thirteenth century B.C. The technology alone was mind blowing, but the beauty of the designs was staggering. The second displayed highlights from one of the largest sword collections in the world: finely worked bronze pommels and collars from the last 600 years. I never imagined that I could be interested in these, but the artistry involved was extraordinary: entire, finely detailed landscapes in a space 1/2 x 1 1/2”. The final gallery held the implements of the tea ceremony: water vessels, pots, cups, and carved wooden implements. Like all the galleries, these were chosen for the relevance to the autumn season. We had never been to a museum that so successfully focused the viewer on just a few objects. And what objects!
We took a cab back to Ginza and a siesta at the hotel.
We ventured out in the late afternoon to the Mitsukoshi department store, 11 floors of opulence that New York can’t begin to rival. The showpiece are the two bottom floors, a food display more than twice as big as that at KaDeWe in Berlin, the largest one we know. A huge space is given over to desserts, many of which are stunning and jewel like.
We gravitated to the meat section, to marvel at the marbling of the beef.
And the sushi and bento boxes are like nothing we’d seen before.
The concierge at our hotel had made a mess of our supposed dinner reservations, so we decided to simply eat at one of the two dozen restaurants on the top floors of the department store! Most of these were astonishingly expensive, so we embarrassed ourselves and ate at the most reasonable of the lot, which happened to be (mediocre) Chinese.
We capped the day with a stroll to the Ginza crossing, one of the nighttime sights for which Tokyo is justly famous.
We started our day with an excellent light (Western) breakfast at the coffee shop on the corner. Then off on the subway to Shibuya, one of the newer built-up areas in western Tokyo. Shibuya Station is one of the busiest commuter stations in the world; as you exit you’re immediately confronted with Shibuya Crossing, the famous intersection over which as many as 3,000 pedestrians pass at every green walk light.
Subiya is a much younger, hipper place than Ginza, seemingly catering to a middle-of-the-road, relatively moneyed youth. Lots of boutiques, and lots of Mexican, burgers, and beer. It felt very different than our walk through Harajuku the day before. We walked around enough to get the flavor and ducked into another of Tokyo’s enormous department stores, Tokyo Honten. Still very fancy (think $1000 bento boxes with caviar), it is nonetheless a half step down from the store in Ginza.
Vladimir had recommended that we take in the opening of one of these stores, which we did. At 9:55 the doors open and you’re invited in. Facing you are three greeters; behind them, standing at attention in front of their area, are many more staff. At 10:00 to the second, all three greeters bow deeply and gesture you inside. Especially as an early customer, every shop attendant bows and greets you cordially as you walk by their section. If one of them is asked a question in a language they can’t understand, they sprint to a colleague who can help, who in turn sprints back to you. Just like in New York.
I spent a few minutes in pleasant, confused conversation with a young man in the sake department and ended up with a small bottle which may just end up being part of a gift to a certain couple. The highlight so far of my exploration of sake was at Ippudo; when I asked the very nice young waitress whether I should drink the sake I’d ordered warm or cold, she smiled and replied “Maybe.”
Sue and Connie spent some pleasant moments doing a bit of shopping for baby clothes while I wandered off looking at fountain pens. I found a gorgeous deep crimson Urushi (lacquer) pen for a mere $850; I managed to resist that particular temptation.
As wonderful as the subway is, you don’t see anything, so we decided to splurge on a cab to Asakusa; we were in the southwest, Asakusa in the northeast, so we figured we’d get a cross section. Which we did, but at a little higher price than we’d reckoned on. It was that kind of day. The cabbie asked “Expressway OK?” and we said “Sure.” Unfortunately, the expressway crawled through the center as the meter spun wildly. We passed through some very wealthy districts in central Tokyo: Asakusa, Roppongi, Nihonbashi. And we passed through kiddie Tokyo, Akihibara, the land of manga, anime, cosplayers, (and probably a myriad of other stuff that we could never understand; OK Boomer) and enormous electronics shops.
We got out in Asakusa right in front of the most venerated Buddhist temple in Tokyo, Senso -Ji. The temple grounds date from around 700 AD, but the temple itself has been destroyed numerous times by earthquakes, fires, B-52’s, etc. The present temple was rebuilt in 1958.
Beside the temple stands a Shinto pagoda, rebuilt in 1973.
But the structures aren’t the central thing here: it is the throngs of people making for a genuinely carnivalesque atmosphere.
We took the subway back to Ginza for lunch. We had been deprived of sushi and were determined to make up for this major gap in our trip. Sushi no Midori has the reputation of offering some of the best affordable sushi in Tokyo and, when we arrived, we found that we weren’t the only ones who had gotten the message: there was a long line outside. After a pleasant hour wait (the wait was a good bit longer if you wanted a counter seat), we were ushered in for the best sushi meal of our lives.
Each couple ordered the same: one seafood platter and one tuna platter; we shared eel rolls and shrimp tenderloin rolls. The seafood sushi was wonderful but perhaps not in a different universe than the best sushi at home. The rolls, though, were the best we’d eaten: wonderfully inventive and deeply flavorful. But the tuna platter, which combined fatty tuna with extra fatty tuna, was transcendental. Flavors we could not have imagined. Vladimir and I had opted for beer; the weather continued beautiful but very warm.
There was a very nice young Chinese-American couple from San Diego a couple of tables down with whom we were comparing notes; they seemed to have ordered everything on the menu and urged us to try the super fattiest tuna, so we ordered four pieces of that and some excellent warm sake. This flavor, too, was outside our experience; Vladimir said it was the Speck of tuna. As good as it was, we all agreed that the middle grade was the one we would dream about. We left plotting how we could come back on our last day in Tokyo.
Although we were stuffed, Vladimir wanted a bite of something sweet. In Ginza, your wish and your wallet are your command. We found an elegant patisserie on our way home, and ordered some cake and some macarons and took them back for a little tea party in our room. Tokyo is reputed to have some of the best French food in the world, and these tastes suggest that we should try some on our next visit.
Much of the inspiration for this trip came from Andrew and Emily, who had spent their vacation in Japan and fallen in love with the country. They had urged us to have a drink at the bar of the Ritz-Carlton, on the 45th floor of a building in Akasaka. We were glad we did; the views are extraordinary and the space very elegant.
We knew that the drinks wouldn’t be $5 apiece, but we still had some sticker shock. I won’t reveal what we paid after including a cover charge and a “service charge” (the only one we’ve encountered in Japan, where the price you’re quoted includes tax and tip), but let’s just say we weren’t at Joe’s corner bar.
