Sarashina Horii

Sarashina Horii
6/24
I was never meant to write a foodie blog.  The reason?  I take pictures of the mediocre food I eat (see last post, 'Ebisu, Calligraphy and Futsal') but fail to take a single photo when I visit one of Tokyo's most famous restaurants.

The place is called Sarashina Horii, located near Azabu-juban station in the southern downtown area.  It's one of the oldest restaurants in Tokyo, dating to 1789, and serves the best soba in the city.  Koitabashi-san offered to take me there after work yesterday because his son works a part-time job as a server there.  Since I've already set a precedent for poaching photos from other blogs, here's the storefront in the daytime, from Tokyo Cuisine Guide by Tokyo Joe.

The Japanese government often recommends this place to foreign dignitaries, including our very own POTUS.  It's also apparently a favorite of the members of AKB48, whom we unfortunately did not meet.

   Being completely honest, I can tell the difference between good and bad soba, but not between good and world-class.  My meal (soba and tiny tempura shrimp) tasted pretty good, and pricing was surprisingly reasonable for a restaurant with such a formidable reputation.  Seating was on traditional tatami mats, either seiza (sitting on one's knees, formal) or agura (criss-cross, not formal).  Both were difficult with my casual soccer player's absurdly inflexible legs.  Nevertheless, would definitely visit again, with a camera this time. 10/10.

Ebisu, Calligraphy, and Futsal

Ebisu, Calligraphy and Futsal
6/23
Ebisu
This weekend I met an old friend, spent far too much on food, invented my own kanji and finally played some soccer.  Buckle your seatbelts, ladies and gentlemen, especially if you're in a moving vehicle because it's the law and it saves lives.

Saturday I met up with Koki, whom I haven't seen since I was in Gifu.  Three years is a long time, and I almost didn't recognize him when we met at the station.  Speaking of stations, I've gotten lost at Shibuya station four times now.  The place is a maze of tunnels and turnstiles, with occasional climbs to the surface streets before descending again.  The walk from the Toyoko-sen (the line closest to my lodgings) to the Yamanote-sen takes like five minutes, and that's if you know the way, which I didn't.

The crowds outside Shibuya station.  Under the tree is the train station's very own tourist attraction, the statue of Hachiko the dog.  The folk legend goes that Hachiko was the loyal pet of a businessman who lived nearby, and would walk to the station every day to wait for him to come home.  One day the businessman died suddenly at work, and didn't arrive at the station.  Hachi arrived at the station in time for his master's train until his death ten years later, becoming a local celebrity for his loyalty (and punctuality).  The statue was erected at his habitual waiting-place, and is now the location of choice for people meeting at Shibuya station.  Judging from the crowd, specifying 'at Hachiko' probably wouldn't be enough.

Koki and I wandered around Ebisu for around an hour looking for a well-known shopping mall called the Ebisu Garden Place.  We eventually gave up and hailed a cab, which was not as exorbitant as the stories of Tokyo would have you believe.  The cab of course retraced our path back to the station, then went about two blocks further to drop us off.  We snacked at a place called Harbs Cafe, which is apparently a popular destination for dates and weekend rendezvous, but whose reputation I think Koki and I would agree is quite undeserved.  I had an orange cream tart which was nice but pricey, and a coconut tea which was bland but extortionate.  Koki didn't even finish his 880￥ ($8) honey tea.  We caught up, and talked football/soccer, mutual friends, etc.

What an overpriced afternoon tea looks like.  It wasn't bad, but I'd be annoyed paying more than 250￥ for tea, milk and coconut syrup.

Afterwards we went to an izakaya in Shibuya.  It's a little unclear to me how the Japanese choose an izakaya, because every fourth shopfront seems to be one, yet the place we decide on always seems to be pretty far out of the way.  Again, I spent too much money, but this time it was well worth it.  Koki recommended all of his favorite menu items, and I washed them down with a lovely shochu.  My favorite menu item was fried chicken cartilage, in which they take the chicken breast, cut away the  meat (sounds strange, I know), and batter and deep-fry the cartilage.  The result is crunchy, high-calorie, and well worth 600￥.  Unfortunately, I didn't get the name of the place, but might be able to retrace my steps.

Shodou
On Sunday I went to a calligraphy (書道, shodou) workshop produced by Sugimoto-sensei at Futako-tamagawa  campus.  The attendees were mostly small children and their parents, and the instructor began by explaining the evolution of kanji from early Chinese pictograms.  We then mimicked this development by creating our own kanji from pictures.  I made kanji for nikuman (meat dumpling), ice cream, and akanbe, the weirdly specific word for a face one makes by sticking out one's tongue, closing one eye, and pulling down the lower eyelid of the other eye.  You see it in anime occasionally; it's the Japanese equivalent of saying "nyah nyah" and blowing a raspberry.

My creative process.  Readers of Japanese or Chinese will recognize the kanji for niku (肉, meat) and man (万, 10,000) in the upper left, which the calligraphy sensei combined into our new nikuman character (top, orange).  Complex kanji are usually composed of radicals that relate to the meaning of the word, but it's not uncommon to include a radical with the same pronunciation to indicate how the word is spoken. Second from top right, my attempt at the same strokes. Far right, the kanji for tsumetai (冷たい, cold) and chichi (乳, milk), which I basically mashed together to get a character for ice cream (bottom, black).  Finally, the sensei's take on akanbe, using radicals for tongue, eye and mouth (bottom, orange).  My favorite is nikuman.

Everyone's work, set against the river Tama in the baackground.  I don't remember what this kid's kanji means, but my guess would be "the practice of filleting very large fish with a katana".  Meanings that I remember include something about grapefruit (top left, the one that looks like the panda spirit from Avatar: The Last Airbender), eating too much and getting fat (center, the dresing-table on a bowling ball), and panda (center, the baby television with a palm cross; looks nothing like the panda from Avatar).  Mine's right above the kid's head.

Soccer
Sunday night I finally got to play some soccer.  Bringing outdoor cleats was a waste of space; I haven't even seen a proper field in metropolitan Tokyo, let alone met anyone who would be willing to play with me.  Indoor and futsal, however, are both pretty popular, especially among college students and young adults.  A couple of other residents at my share house do a weekly game at a nearby middle school on Sundays, and I got an invite.  I was inadvertently a huge prick; first I told the guy I was going with that I was terrible (based on previous experience playing futsal), and ended up being one of the more capable players on the floor.  I blame my new futsal shoes--being able to do things like turning and stopping makes a world of difference in a small, fast game.  I capped the evening with a humiliating backheel goal that nutmegged the goalkeeper, who stayed on the floor for a while afterwards...  Hope I get an invite next week.

Meeting the Press

Meeting the Press
6/19
Begging pardon for my digital leave of absence.  Last weekend I was getting over a cold, and didn't do much over the weekend as a result.  I've been working on a normal schedule for two weeks now, and can share my impressions of Japanese university and professional life.

 Toshidai has three main campuses in Setagaya, Todoroki, and Yokohama, as well as a smaller office in Futako-tamagawa.  Geographically, the Setagaya and Todoroki campuses are very close, separated by a single stop on the Oimachi line.  Futako-tamagawa is two stops west of Todoroki.  Yokohama is much farther away.  I've only been there once, and I forget the stop name, but it's in an entirely different city (Yokohama, as opposed to Kawasaki) and takes much longer to get there.  The university has buses that periodically ferry the students between the campuses for free, but they aren't very well-used for reasons I'm about to explain.

When I was researching my summer position on the internet, I found it somewhat difficult to figure out which campus would become my primary base of operations.  Some departments were definitely located at certain campuses, but this didn't seem true for foreign languages.  As it turns out, because each campus is far from the others, they each have their own English classes.  Although the foreign language department is based in Setagaya, the professors and teachers are often tied to their respective campuses.  My supervisor, Sugimoto-sensei, is a member of both the foreign language department and the department of early child education, and spends most of her time in Todoroki.  As a result, students take all of their classes at a single campus.

I assist classes both in Todoroki and Setagaya.  My role seems to be principally language exchange, and professors like to invite me to part of their classes to let students listen to native speech and encourage student participation.  Many of my first appearances have been introductions, in which I give a short speech about myself and answer student questions.  Some have worked better than others.

One of the first was a guest appearance at Setagaya.  The room was full of first-year computer and natural science students, and like ninety percent male.  I gave my introduction, drew a map of the U.S. as a visual aid, and the professor opened the floor to questions.

The room was dead silent.

The professor was plainly desperate to start a dialogue, but unwilling to put specific students on the spot.  A few students offered their pre-prepared questions just to relieve the awkward tension in the room, but for the most part the sensei either asked her own questions or watched a stubbornly silent room.  It wasn't that they didn't have questions; there had been a ten-minute period to write them down before I arrived.  It was just that no one wanted the social opprobrium of speaking broken English to the entire class.  Eventually, I offered just to talk at them, and spoke for a few minutes about Portland.  The professor thanked me, and I left.

My next was a class at Todoroki.  The Early Child Education program trains kindergarten teachers, and none of the classes are less than eighty-five percent female.  A couple of the sections have three guys, and one class is entirely women.  I did a similar exercise, except this time Sugimoto-sensei has had me prepare a couple of short English essays about my childhood; an excerpt from one of them appears in a previous post.  The class was split into two groups; I talked to one while the other read, and then switched.  We began, I opened the floor, and...

Night and day.

The students are interested, ask odd questions, I give odd answers, and the walls come down.  They want to know about my perspective on things Japanese, my life back home, my personality, and am I single.  Everyone gets a good laugh when I tell them my favorite Japanese food is choco-monaka, which I'll have to take an aside to explain.

Choco-monaka is a Japanese ice cream bar, but it's no ordinary snack.  In the middle is a thin wafer of chocolate.  Around that is the ice cream bar, and around that is another coating of chocolate.  The entire thing is enclosed in a waffle wafer sandwich.  The thing tastes like an ice cream sandwich evolved, and the waffle layer acts as insulation that keeps it cold way longer than this ice cream sandwich has any right to remain uneaten.  It's so delicious that I can't believe the U.S. calls itself a developed nation and yet doesn't have these.  I went out to buy one and show you all, but forgot my camera and finished it by the time I got home, so I just borrowed a picture from the internet for those readers without a google search bar.

Choco-monaka in all of its many-layered glory. Image courtesy of balut and natto at http://garando.blogspot.jp/2009/04/me-morinaga.html.

They're at any given convenience store or supermarket and cost around a 100￥ each ($1, more or less), which explains why the students found it funny.  To be fair to the rest of Japanese cuisine, I love you too, but nothing gives you as much bang for your buck as this paragon of manufactured junk food.

To be fair to my students. there's more behind my experience (self-introduction, not gastronomic transcendence) than stereotypes of male and female, or STEM and humanities students.  I'm finding that the execution of the icebreaking exercise matters quite a bit.  Talking to students in small groups is more personable, and helps ease social nervousness at speaking a second language in front of the entire class.  Forcing everyone to talk by calling names in turn helps as well.  When everyone takes a turn to speak, the experience becomes integrating rather than isolating.  This I've learned after doing variations on the theme six or seven times now.  I've done other things as well, but this post is getting long so I think I'll start a new one.  In the meantime, here's another hydrangea picture.

At a tiny shrine sandwiched between a much larger Shinto shrine and the graveyard and temple across the street.  I walked past this place for a week on my way to work before I thought to find a path and go in.

Kamakura

Kamakura
6/8
Monday was the last day before the Japanese semester begins, and Manami and Ikumi (whom readers will remember from an earlier post) graciously offered to show me around Kamakura.  Kamakura is a small town south of the Tokyo metropolitan area, but close enough that the train ride is under an hour.  It was the seat of the first shogunate of the Minamoto clan from 1192 to 1333 (I knew the approximate dates but needed Wikipedia to confirm).  Dedicated players of the Civilization game series will note that Minamoto no Yoritomo, one of the great generals, founded the Kamakura shogunate.  Kamakura fell from historical relevance before my period of study in Early Modern Japan, but I still wanted to see it.
It didn't disappoint.

Kamakura is beautiful.  Leading away from the station into the hills is the market street, filled with tourists, tourist traps, and men with tight shorts and rickshaws that will run less able-bodied (and richer) tourists around the landmarks of the town.  Step off the shopping streets, and a different Kamakura emerges.  It seems a bit like the Lake Oswego to Yokohama's Portland; there doesn't seem to be much industry, but many of the streets are lined with beautiful houses, both recent and old, of what I expect are residents  who commute into Tokyo or Yokohama.  The town climbs into the hills until it disappears into mountainous forest, and meets the Pacific on the other end.  

The group in front of one of said beautiful residences. From L to R: Manami, Ikumi, myself.

Zeniarai Benzaiten Shrine (銭洗弁財天)
Zeniarai jinja, a shrine built around a mountain spring, was our first stop.  It's a small canyon in the foothills, accessible from the road by a tunnel carved out of the rock.  The spring is called zeniarai-mizu (銭洗水), or coin-washing water, and legend says that washing one's money here will cause it to multiply, granting wealth.  In any other country, it would be the pickpocket's paradise -- hundreds of people bringing large-denomination bills to a crowded area, pulling them out and then waving them around to dry.

Me taking a picture of Manami taking one of me. Hers turned out better.

However much you wash in the spring water will be doubled.  I washed my debit card, so we'll see what happens.  I celebrated my newfound wealth by paying the relatively steep admission prices (still cheap) to Kamakura's other landmarks.

Daibutsu (大仏)
The great Buddha at Kamakura is probably the city's most famous landmark.  The flyer I brought home says it was built in 1252; it is made entirely of bronze, stands over 13 meters tall, and weighs 121 tonnes.  Next to the Buddha are a pair of straw sandals that are taller than I am, with a sign that says, 'Please don't insert coins into the straw sandals.'  We didn't stay very long, as there's little to do at the shrine besides admire the statue, but we did meet a pair of friendly cats on our way out.

The daibutsu of Kamakura, with flowers helpfully placed in front for scale.

 Hasedera (長谷寺)
Just south of the daibutsu was my favorite site we visited, the Hase Temple to Kannon, the Buddhist goddess of mercy.  As with Zeniarai Benten, the architecture of the temple reflects the geography of Kamakura.  The shrine is tiered, with a garden at street level, lesser buildings about halfway up the climb to the top, and the main temple a hundred feet or so above the street.  Taking pictures inside the buildings is unfortunately prohibited, so my readers will just have to imagine the massive gilded statue of the eleven-headed Kannon that is the temple's main attraction.  Or google it, as other tourists haven't been as courteous as I was.  Above the temple is a short path lined with hydrangeas, and it is testament to the Japanese dedication to flower photography that the crowd waiting to walk the hydrangea path dwarfed the crowds around either of the landmark statues I visited.  My favorite aspect of the temple was the balcony that overlooks Sagami Bay.

I love temple gardens.  They epitomize the Japanese spirit of craftsmanship of nature into art that can also be seen in traditional architecture, much of early modern art, and of course, flower photography.  This is the one picture I was able to take of the entrance garden that is (almost) devoid of people.

 

Hasedera offers political advice.

The view from the top.  I took a selfie as well, but the iPhone 3 front camera really is unusable.

Kamakura was a refreshing break from Tokyo that I didn't realize I needed.  Next, settling into work. 

The Intern's Dress Guide

The Intern's Dress Guide
6/9
Thought I'd write a short piece for my wide readership who wants to do what I'm doing -- intern as a foreigner in a Japanese business organization (in my case, a university).  I wasn't able to find a guide like this before I set out, so maybe this will help someone.

Introduction
As I'm sure many readers are aware, Japanese professionals dress more formally than their American counterparts.  For all genders, this means a suit, although as an intern, I don't feel the need to maintain the same standard as my much more senior supervisors.  I'm trying to hit a sweet spot where I won't be mistaken for a student, without overdressing in a suit or blazer because it's really hot.  I'm aiming for something slightly higher than business casual.

Men
As a male, this sweet spot means dress slacks (no one in Japan wears khakis to work), a nice button-down dress shirt, a belt and a pair of dress shoes.  No tie so far, although I brought a few.   I'm no expert on shoes, but I'm pretty sure they're navy suede oxfords, which are a little unusual in both color and material, but work fine.  (If you want something orthodox, stick to black or dark brown leather).
My biggest problem so far has been avoiding looking like a student.  There is no dress code for Japanese college students, and they wear what you might see on the street or on the weekend.  However, high schools in Japan are private and always have a uniform, which consists of dress shirt, dark slacks, black leather shoes and a belt, and is alarmingly close to the clothes I brought to Japan.
I'm in no danger of looking like a college student, but I may be mistaken for a high schooler...

My tips for avoiding this unfortunate comparison:

• I like my suede shoes.  They're different from the typical uniform and pair well with all of my pants.  Students wear sneakers or lace-less loafers, so avoid these.
•  Shirts: avoid white and short sleeves, which are both common elements of student uniforms.  I like patterned shirts such as plaid, which make me look like a gaikokujin (foreigner), but not a student.
• As I mentioned earlier, avoid khaki and shorts.  Make sure your clothes are machine-washable.
• If you have one, bring a briefcase instead of a backpack.

Not men
Here I can only write down my observations, as I don't have any experience building a non-male wardrobe.  Women won't run into the same student problem as I have, as the girls' school uniform is very distinctive with a skirt, knee socks, and cloth things around the collar which I can't find a name for.  Japanese businesswomen prefer skirts over pants, and frequently wear heels.  However, not everyone dresses so formally to work, and many of the professors at my university dress as one might to walk to Sunday service.  
I think Japan seems pretty accepting of the LGBTQ community, as I've seen trans women hosting different talk shows on TV.  I'm afraid I can offer little more advice than dress nice, as though you were going to work.

Getting your feet wet
Pacific Northwesterners can leave their rain jackets at home.  The Japanese seem to dress more or less the same whether it's raining or not, and carry umbrellas if the forecast indicates rain.  Some wear wellingtons, though not with professional wear.
  

Edo Castle / Imperial Palace

Edo Castle
6/6/
On Saturday I took the Yamanote line into Tokyo station to visit the former site of the inner wall of Edo Castle, now the Imperial Palace.  I had originally intended to pay a visit to Hamarikyu Gardens at the mouth of the Sumida River, but got on an express train that went straight to Tokyo station.  I call it Edo castle rather than its current status as the imperial residence because it was Edo castle in the class on Early Modern Japan (Yamashita) that I took last semester, which was my principal reason for visiting; and because I can remember 'Edo castle' in Japanese (江戸城, edojou), but not 'imperial residence' (忘れました, I was told at least twice but still can't remember).  This post will be mostly photos with captions; but to give an overview of where I went, I started in the kokyogaien ('historic garden'), walked clockwise around the entire circumference of the imperial residence, and then toured the East Gardens.  The palace is huge; the entire site is around a kilometer in diameter at its narrowest.

My first impression of the castle, now a garden.  Edo castle had multiple concentric moats during the Tokugawa era, of which the outermost now forms the bed for part of the Yamanote line through Tokyo.  This is the outermost inner moat; I would encourage readers to google a map of the imperial palace if geography is important to them.

In the foreground, one of several guardhouses that remain, with the gatehouse to the imperial residence in the background.  The history student in me will note that the guardhouse juts out over the wall, and has holes in the floor to drop rocks on climbers.  Castles in Japan never used mortar to construct their walls, which are fit together with careful masonry.  They occasionally need renovation, but I'm amazed that they have lasted in such excellent condition, especially in a seismically active country.  I'm trying to take advantage of having a proper camera phone to experiment with my photography; hence the strange weeping willow limbs framing the buildings.

A better look at the gatehouse.

Also able to experiment with selfies, although the photo quality is poorer.  Behind me is the Sakashita-mon gate, one of several entrances to the inner castle.  Also note the runners; the perimeter of the castle makes a very popular 5-km loop, and I passed hundreds of runners (running in the opposite direction) as I walked the same loop.

The stone foundation for the donjon of Edo Castle.  Hidetada began construction of the largest donjon in Japanese history, which was completed under Iemitsu.  Unfortunately, the donjon burned just 19 years after completion in the Meireki Fire of 1657, and was never rebuilt. 

I notice that foreign tourists tend to take pictures of themselves with the main attractions and landmarks; not so for the Japanese, who appear to disdain the selfie.  Rather, I'll see many Japanese, especially old men, spending long minutes setting up photos of flower blossoms.  Here's my take of a hydrangea in the East Gardens.

Alas, this would be such a great shot if not for my finger in the corner.  A guardhouse in the East Gardens, formerly the keep of the castle and now open to the public.

Not an especially engaging photograph visually, but an interesting look at the inside of the walls as they would have been during the castle's military life. There's a moat on the other side of the stone wall, on top of which sits a thinner plaster one.  Note the gun-ports, from which soldiers could fire tanegashima, or muskets.

Overall, Edo Castle was pretty enjoyable, although I find that I much prefer being a tourist with friends. Touring alone allowed me refreshing freedom of movement, but I definitely prefer being able to share what I experience.
Next up: Kamakura, then back to work!

The Rat Race

The Rat Race
6/5

Alack, the tedium of daily life has finally overtaken me.  Today I took the train without once being confused.  It wasn't as monumental a milestone as I expected; rather it was almost mundane.  Past moments of confusion include: taking the express instead of the local, taking the local instead of the express, not having enough fare, and expecting a ten-minute train ride to take an hour.*  Today's Friday, and I'm finishing up my first work week in Japan.  I'll mention that although I've been here a full work week, I didn't work the entire time.  So, what did I do?

Introductions  

There were many people to meet.  I know I won't remember names, but I'm trying my best to memorize as many as possible.  I met what feels like the entire administration of Toshidai with Koitabashi-san, and many members of the academic departments, including the president of the university, with Sugimoto-sensei.  I'm pretty sure I made terrible first impressions; the basic format of a Japanese introduction includes "hajimemashite" (nice to meet you), a brief self-introduction, and "yoroshiku onegaishimasu" (general one-size-fits-all phrase, used when asking for a favor, meeting someone, and probably many other social situations).  It took me awhile, however, to realize that while English-language introductions are often conversational, with the introducer introducing himself and then answering polite questions about him/herself, the Japanese style is much more formal, in which the introducer presents all of this information without much prompting in a short speech while their audience listens.  Sugimoto-sensei chalked it down to nervousness (kinchou), but the awkwardness of future introductions noticeably decreased when I realized that everyone was waiting for me to say more about myself.

A view of my lodgings from the street.  My window is in the upper right corner, partially cut out of the frame.  I particularly like that it's a block from the convenience store and only three blocks from the main market street, which makes shopping for supplies unbelievably easy.  The Japanese are far less dependent on cars than the States, and one can generally walk and take the train to anywhere one wishes to go.

In which I write Victorian-style chapter headings.

I won't regale you all with all of my thrilling exploits this week at work, but the general idea of my duties here seems to be acting as a teaching assistant for English and Early Child Education classes.  I will be holding lunchtime conversation meetings in English, preparing lesson materials, grading tests, and possibly leading a class or two.  In addition, it appears that my work will often incorporate elements from both departments.  For example, yesterday I wrote a pair of short essays in English about my early childhood for use as reading material.  The reading level was a little advanced, and I think I will work with Sugimoto-sensei over the next few days on editing them to make them easier to read.  One essay was about my avid pursuit of things Harry Potter in elementary school, while the other recalled my club soccer days at Tallahassee United FC.  That I was obsessed with Harry Potter was subsequently added to each of my introductions, so that now everyone I've met at Toshidai must think I'm a fanatic for Harry Potter, Pokemon, and the manga I read in middle school...
I've included an excerpt below.

An ancient burial mound (古墳, kofun) named Kitsunedzuka kofun (狐塚) in Setagaya.  I took a picture of the accompanying sign, but haven't had a chance to read it.

In which I kicked a ball many times on grass fields.

I will preface this anecdote by noting that I grew up in Tallahassee, a sweaty college town in the panhandle swamp home to Florida State University, the state capitol, and a very good youth development soccer club called TUFC.  A brief internet search tells me that the club has flourished since (perhaps because) I left, and now boasts three programs of different skill levels and a partnership with Tottenham Hotspur.  I began kicking balls when I was around five or six under the tutelage of a fantastic woman named Coach Bev.  It never even crossed my mind that I might play another sport; my older brother played soccer, and so of course I must as well...  At eight, I began playing with a proper club team in eight-a-side matches against other towns in northern Florida, Georgia and Alabama.  I was never very good as a child, but the team was, and my haul of silverware from my glory days still decorates the mantelpiece in my house...

*NB on the Tokyo metro: for those readers who haven't experienced the beautiful Tokyo metro system, many lines have three different speed options available: express (急行, kyuukou), semi-express (忘れちゃった、I forgot the kanji for these ones), and local (各駅, kakueki). The express train gets you to the major stations much faster than the local, but skips the minor stations on the way.  The local, of course, visits every station and the semi-express skips a few.

First Day on the Job

First Day on the Job
6/2
Went into work for the first time today.  An inauspicious start, as I thought I boarded the wrong train (it was the right one), took a really slow local train instead of the express, and showed up 10 minutes late.
I went first to Toshidai's Futako-tamagawa campus, which as Sugimoto-sensei explained isn't really big enough to be a 'campus,' and would be more properly called an 'office.'  We attended a presentation given by a photography student on the photos he's taken of people around the globe, including (but not limited to) Nepal, Israel, Bulgaria, Morocco, and Peru.

The view from the Futako-tamagawa campus.  On the right is the train station, which spans the Tama river that separates Tokyo from neighboring Kanagawa.

Later, we departed for the Toshidai Todoroki campus, in which I will be spending much of my time during this internship.  We met up with Ikumi and Manami, and I chatted with them while they prepared some paperwork.

The shrine down the street from the Todoroki campus.  Perhaps this was partly because we visited at a quiet time, but this shrine gives a very different feeling from the crowded one at Harajuku.  It's peaceful, empty, and not as well-cared for.  

Japanese WOTD: まくら (makura) - pillow.  I had to buy one of these after spending my first night without.