Yokohama sights and delights

First full day in Japan, and my, we did do a lot. I'd originally thought of going into Tokyo with Maiko, but we decided to stick around Yokohama and explore the closer sites. We wound up going to the Ramen Museum, which Maiko had heard of but never gone to.

Real Japanese ramen is an actual meal, not just a starving student's staple. There are as many different kinds of ramen as there are provinces in Japan, each reflecting its respective area's climate and natural resources. The ramen from Hokkaido, for example, is rich and thick, a reflection of the cooler temperatures in Japan's northernmost island.

After looking around the replication of Japanese streets and candy and such from about thirty or forty years ago, we ate at one of the seven or so ramen shops in the building, each run by a master chef. We each had a bowl of white Kyushu ramen, topped by slices of pork and loaded with slices of roasted garlic. Maiko raved that it was one of the best bowls of ramen she'd ever eaten.

On our way out, I noticed that -- just as the Lonely Planet had recorded -- one of the ramen shops had a much longer wait than any of the other's (there was a neat signboard at the entrance that denoted how many minutes wait was expected at each shop). Upon reading the description of the ramen served there, Maiko asked, "Um, do you think maybe we could try this shop's ramen too?" Having just eaten a bowl, I wasn't hungry at all, but hey, what the hell. If it's that popular, it must be for a reason, right? So we waited in line for 45 minutes, during which I actually did get a little hungry again, so that by the time we received our orders of small bowls of soy sauce and miso ramen each, I was ready to eat.

I don't know if it was the wait, or the familiar taste of miso (a stronger version is endemic to Korean cuisine), or simply that it really was that good, but that bowl of ramen was the best meal I had in Japan. Maiko had ordered a soy sauce-based ramen that she really liked, but I thought I got the better end of the deal.

After our second bowl, we looked around the exhibits, among which was a container of cup o' noodles with the familiar face of the California governor beaming from the cover. Yes, Arnold Schwarznegger, you've come a long way from shilling for instant ramen.

After the museum, Maiko led me to an electronics store, where I eventually bought a digital camera. Yes, I can finally stop depending on my Japanese friends to supply me with images of my life in Korea. It might have helped if I'd gotten it, say, a year ago, but better late than never, eh? Being completely clueless about electronic equipment, I put all my trust in my friend, and she found a superduper little camera for a great price. I was originally sceptical about the camera's superduper-ness (and I still think it tends to use the flash too much when it's on auto), but now I am totally in love with my little D-ka (short for digital camera, duh). I owe Maiko so much.

Sunday night happened to be some kind of festival, which happens practically every day in the summer, so there were lots of women strolling around wearing yukatas (the summer version of the kimono). A fair number of men, too. This traditional garb is still very much in use; many women wear a yukata the whole day of a festival day, and it's not considered strange at all.

That night, we went to the Yokohama harbor, which boasts the world's largest ferris wheel (no joke), and watched brilliantly gaudy fireworks. There were an estimated 10,000 people there. Coming out of the subway, I saw a group of yukata-clad women holding up their cell phones and taking pictures of the lights blossoming above us.

Maiko's friend had been saving a spot near the water since the afternoon, but by the time we got to the harbor, policemen were politely turning away people -- too many were already situated on the beach. We found a spot on a bridge, sat in the street with hundreds and hundreds of others, and opened a beer. The full moon rose to our right, unnoticed.

After the show, we waited close to an hour, sitting in a patch of grass and admiring the lights of the buildings in the harbor, before trying to board the subway. I played with my new camera. Maiko smoked. In front of us, three women in yukatas sat looking at the water.