Eiko, a bird-like woman in a 1940s-style dress, fluttered over to us through the subway’s throngs while her husband, Tom, beamed silently beside her.
“We take you sushi. Then house. Very small house. That okay?” she asked.
“Daijobu,” we replied, and they whisked us away.
Keridwen
Cornelius CLICK IMAGE TO VIEW
Unlike American houses, the kitchen and living room in Eiko and Tom’s home were upstairs. The bedrooms were below.
I had been to Japan before, on a dizzying tour through neon-loud streets, clanging pachinko halls, and the list of important sites. It wasn’t the Zen experience I’d anticipated.
But Eiko and Tom’s suburb was as serene as a meditation garden. We strolled through hushed, cartpath-narrow lanes, where every home had .5 cars and Lilliputian gardens. We met up with our hosts’ English-speaking friends at their local sushi joint, chatting for several hours while sampling a sea of sashimi. I felt, for the first time, that I’d entered a slice of Japanese life.
Keridwen
Cornelius CLICK IMAGE TO VIEW
Tui Selvaratnam pushes a mini-cart around a Tokyo grocery store, searching for Asian pears, sake and–inexplicably–green
–tinted scones.
I never learned the name of the suburb, at first because of a prejudice that if it wasn’t in my guidebook, it didn’t really count, and then because I realized that the name of the place wasn’t what made it important.
Reach the reporter at keridwen77@yahoo.com.


