...about Jan Brewer's life, I'm afraid I'd totally have to go with Princess Sparklepony's suggestion.

Well, almost-Birthday.  It's Friday.

Does not compute!!!!

Finally, at long last, the pictures from my trip to L.A. and visit with Doctor Dan at Gallifrey One.  All albums visible here, I hope!

(Inspired when I read that DW writers would totally cast Lady Gaga, if she had any interest in appearing on the show.  The last picture is, of course, Grace Jones wearing tribal and cyber materials.  Better picture of it here.).

Title is from an old, bad joke.  If you don't know it, that's probably for the best.

So, before I get to the recipe, I'm behind on everything.  So many losses (Rue, Dennis, Lena, Gary, to name but a few).  I like to do individual obits for each person individually, but, honestly, if I did, this blog would be much more morbid than I'm inclined to be.  I'm not 100% certain why I bother anyway.  There tends to be ample mourning and recognition, it's not like I'm adding anything.  And I don't know them personally.  But . . . I suppose it's one of those ways to mark down all the things in my head, people and events that I treasure that I don't want to forget. 

Some of us have long memories, but things still get lost in the cracks unless you're in possession of eidetic memory with seriously long-term memory storage.  Mine's good, but increasingly selective as I get older.  As a species, we're made to forget.  I recall to mind the idea that women "forget" the pain of childbirth, but that doesn't seem right to me, quite.  Not being an actual woman, I wouldn't dare speak for any, but I wonder if it's forgetfulness or a papering-over of memory:  the ability to reduce things and enhance others in hindsight.  (Women, I'm not sure what to make of this study, but it's interesting, at least to a man who will never experience delivery). 

And we don't ever "forget" we're all going to die one day (and we can't really forget something that hasn't happened), but we paper over the knowledge.  We put things between it and our consciousness.  There's a reason that Lethe is perceived as both a gift and a curse at various points in mythology.  And thank you, Wikipedia, for informing me that "Lethe" is related to the Greek word for "truth" aletheia:  "Unconcealed."  "Un-oblivion."

There's probably something more deep there that if I attempt to get at would only embarrass me, so let's forget I mentioned it.

Heh.

So . . . recipe that I'm terribly pleased with/proud of.  It's an amalgamation of some ideas on Epicurious.  I may have previously mentioned my moth-to-the-flame fascination with chestnuts, a perfectly lovely nut that most people forget existed from January to October, after which, is recalled as the stuff of stuffing and Christmas songs.   In the past, during those times, when I can get them fresh at Rainbow, I've attempted to prepare them, and wound up with squat.  They are a pain to peel.  They crumble.  The peel reluctantly comes off.  The shells are tough and prick your fingers with every sad attempt at separating them from the tasty treat inside.  They break my heart every year I try to use them, because the one (out of 30) that I do get properly peeled and prepared are heavenly.  The rest is just a crumbled, skin-laden, shell-mined mess.

If you haven't actually had chestnuts (and I really didn't see them in Florida much), they're sweet and savory at the same time, possessing more actual starch than potatoes, with a bit more fiber and a good amount of vitamin C.  Earthy and caramelly, they're firm and soft at the same time, and they have a lot of body.

A few weeks ago at Rainbow, in the soups and canned/jarred goods section, I saw a 14.3 oz jar of Minerve whole roasted chestnuts (Ooo! Press!) on sale.  14.3 ounces! And they all looked gorgeous, and whole, and, sadly, better than any attempt I'd made at preparing them at home.

Along with this find, I'm on a soup kick (again).  So I decided to look at some soup recipes, and I found elements in several that I liked.  So I put them all together, gave it a try, broke out the immersion blender Z-man got me, and, well, I have a new instant favorite that seems also to be popular with other folks.  It's delicious, hearty, and easy, if you can find the damn chestnuts.

Chestnut Soup with Fennel, Pine Nuts, and Absinthe

1 14.3 oz jar of whole roasted (and peeled) chestnuts
1 medium-to-large bulb fennel (or anise), loosely chopped, stems and bottom removed *
3 tbsp butter and/or olive oil (or any combination totalling 2 tbsp) **
6-8 cups vegetable stock ***
6 whole star anise pods
1/4 cup absinthe (or anisette)
1/4 cup pine nuts, freshly toasted, for garnish
S & P to taste

1.  Bring the vegetable stock and anise pods to a boil, then let simmer for 45 minutes on very low heat.

2.  At about the 30 minute mark for the stock, and in a separate large soup pot, melt the butter or heat up the olive oil over medium-high heat.  Add the chopped fennel bulb and sautée for 5 minutes. 

3.  Add the chestnuts and sautée for another 8 minutes, mixing well with the fennel.  The pot will get sticky and the fennel may be blackening a little.  This is fine because . . .

4. When the pot is sticky, dilute the absinthe with about 1/2 cup cold water.  The absinthe will cloud (as it is wont to do) and deglaze the pan with the absinthe/water.  You might have a little dense liquid left over in the pan after you deglaze the pan clean, and that's fine.

5.  Through a sieve to capture the star anise, pour the stock into the soup pot and bring to a boil once more.  Reserve the star anise.

6.  After the soup boils, cover and let simmer for 20-30 minutes, or until the chestnuts are basically falling apart in the broth.. 

7. Purée the soup in a blender, food processor, or (strongly preferred) an immersion blender -- and be careful!

8.  Check the soup for desired thickness, and if you want it a bit thicker, it can go another 10 minutes or so uncovered.  You can likewise thin it out, too, with a bit more stock/broth/water, if you want.  Add salt to taste at this point too.

9. Serve in a bowl or mug, and sprinkle the pine nuts on top. Have a pepper grinder on hand for fresh-ground pepper to taste.

* - Fennel or anise is fine, whichever you prefer.  I don't core the fennel, because I like the tender core of fresh bulb, and you're blending it anyway. 
** - You can make the soup totally vegan, i.e. olive oil only, if you want.  I use a little of each for myself, since I like butter-sautéed fennel
*** - These days, I'm still making my own stock, but in a pinch, I once had to use a fake beef broth cube to make up the difference of missing stock, when I didn't have enough on hand.  It comes out just fine.

At long last, here's my final Japan entry!

A few years ago, you may recall Dr R and I visited Paris Disney, fondly remembered as Bizzaro Disney.  Well, Japan has its own incarnation of the park in Tokyo.  Right on Tokyo Bay, in fact.  Easily reached by train (and not a cheap ride even by Japanese standards), I decided to go see the Japanese version.  I figured, by that time in my visit, that the park would more strongly recognize our familiar Florida one in service, if not tone.

And I was more or less right.  The park is smaller, more like the Anaheim park in size, but it was nonetheless packed.  I want on a Monday thinking it'd be less crowded.  Apparently there was a school holiday, so, mm, not so much.  Like the Disneyland park, there are two sub-parks in Tokyo:  the Magic Kingdom, the main park everything thinks of with castles and critters, and also a sub-park unique in the world called DisneySea.  Given that the park is on the bay itself, I suppose it seemed like a natural theme to attempt, and you know what? It works.

The park really does manage to capture the spirit of nautical adventure, Disney-style, hitting some themes and motifs that are otherwise buried in the other parks.  And it hits you right away.  Although the castle is visible from the monorail ride (what's Disney without a monorail ride?), the feature that dominates DisneySea is a giant, erupting volcano.

It's kind of the center point for the whole park, much like the castle or giant golf ball of Epcot.  The entry to the park is through an area called Mediterranean Harbor.  Like most of the parks' entryways, it's designed for shopping.  But there's also a hotel that overlooks he lagoon that greets you on entrance.  I think it was new, and it looks really nice from the outside.

The lagoon joins the whole park and the different "lands" within it.  There is a boat ride that goes around the whole thing, with multiple stops around the park.  In one of those translations in which I think they "missed" something, the boat ONLY goes full circle around the park.  Although there are other embarkation points, you're never allowed to get off.  One full ride, in a circle, back to where you started.  Which is a shame.  Like the train of the Magic Kingdom, this totally could have been a nice way to get around the park.  Which isn't large, but still.

Speaking of the "lands' within the park, you can get an idea from the pictures of some of them on that side of the volcano.  There's the Italian "Renaissance" area, paying tribute to that age of exploration.  And then there's the "American Waterfront," which is an amalgamation of both the New York megaport and a more sleepy Cape Cod, thankfully separated.  The New York bit has a scale replica of an American seagoing steamer, such as the kind we used to go back and forth across the Atlantic in the early 20th century.  There's also a musical theater with a show, which I did see (and wasn't bad), and some replicated old New York landmarks (no Statue of Liberty here, though -- that's in Odaiba).  But there's also a Tower of Terror here too, like the one at the MGM Studio park in Orland.  More on all this later.

Because, well, the volcano beckoned.

Passing through the volcano takes you to a sheltered grotto -- "Mysterious Island" -- where Jules Verne rules.  Much like in BizzaroDisney, where Tomorrowland is much indebted to his vision and a dose of steampunk, he is again realized in not one but two commemorative rides here, the erstwhile 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea and Journey to the Center of the Earth

.

Journey to the Center of the Earth was, I think, somewhat envisioned in the early Anaheim park days, or at least a part of it was with "Primeval World," since underground in Journey, they discover a lost kingdom of dinosaurs and giant plants.  Well, the ride here is a full vision of that story.  It's a roller coaster/all terrain vehicle hybrid and my only complaint was that it was extremely fast and too brief.  And the lines are LONG.  This one is definitely a Fast Pass ride.

But cretaceous creatures, dazzling minerals, molten lava, and, for reasons I'm unsure of since I read the book almost 30 years ago, a giant, genuinely scary, and pissed-off monster at the center of the Earth.  It was nice, being completely new to a ride like that, since I really had no idea what to expect.  Sadly, most of it was a blur.  With occasional punctuations of bright light and monstrous screaming.

Folks may remember 20,000 Leagues from the Orlando Magic Kingdom (I think it's still in Anaheim).  It was kind of a well-known thing there since opening day in 1970.  But a few years back, they filled in the lagoon and turned it into Ariel's Grotto.  Now, I actually liked The Little Mermaid, and it was something of revival for Disney, but I'll take Jules Verne over Hans Christian Andersen any day.  I think there's still the waterfall and a single Nautilus vehicle left there to commemorate it, and the old shelter for the ride queue is now a character greeting area. 

It's sad, but honestly, the ride was getting old.  Fish on strings are only for angling, not for 21st century Disney know-how, right? Well, Tokyo re-imagines the ride, and it's actually pretty good.  Rather than  a large group of people in a single Nautilus, you're in sort of a diving bell, 4 people to a pod.  The ride is also non-stop, so you board from a moving platform going at slow speed.  The bell has four viewing ports with bubble windows that look out into the ride. 

Unlike the old rides, and despite some very good trickery, you never are actually immersed in the water at any point.  When you're "immersed," a cloud of bubbles and water obscures your viewing window, as if you just submerged.  But I believe the whole ride is in the dry.  In addition to your window, you actually have a viewing light that, at certain points in the ride, you can maneuver around outside your window, with a joystick, to cast a dim spotlight on the feature of your choice.  It's a nice touch. 

And the big question:  is there a giant squid? Oh, yes.  Yes, there is.  And he's even scarier.

Just on the other side of the volcano is the Atlantis of The Little Mermaid world, known here as "Mermaid Lagoon."  This is by far the part of the park most meant for the kiddies, sort of doing the work of Fantasy Land from the MK parks.  It's mostly indoors too, probably to give it that enclosed, under-the-sea feel.

The outside is a beautiful, swooping facade of mosaics, shaping spires, seashells, starfish, and coral columns.  The inside is not a bad rendition of the colorful world of Ariel.  Good use of light and dark, and blacklights, blacklights, blacklights!

In this space is a small theater with an extremely abridged version of the titular movie (way, way too abridged), and several small-child friendly rides.  The version of the Mad Hatter teacups (called Flounder's Fling or something) is the raciest ride.  There are bobbling jellyfish to ride, a carousel-type ride with an aquatic bent, Dumbo-style flying fish, and play areas for the very tiny.  I didn't ride on anything in here, because despite actually being at DisneySea, I do have some pride.

Just outside Atlantis, there's the "Arabian Coast."  It's quite lovely, and they took a lot of hints from Epcot's Morocco.  It's an amalgamation of Aladdin and Arabian Nights (the market place is even called Agrabah).  There's a huge two-story carousel (gave it a miss, but really pretty), lots of kebabs and shwarma type places, a live-action performance space, and an indoor boat ride dedicated to Sinbad the Sailor. 

Sinbad and his seven voyages are from The Book of 1001 Nights, "Arabian Nights" as most people probably remember it now.  Sindbad (they apparently use the "d") and Chandu, his pet tiger, are the hero of this ride, and I'm trying to find the Disney feature of movie in which they were introduced, but I can't.  I mean, Chandu is clearly marketing gold for plushie sales, and I could've sworn there was something from them for Sindbad, but I can't find it now. 

I wonder if I'm imagining such a movie, or it got swept under the rug somewhere.  A rug-sweeping seems likely since it's both a somewhat sympathetic take on a fictional Caliphate-era character (and thus ripe for sqawking) and also because the story would have to be horribly bowlderized beyond recognition.  The Fourth Voyage in particular, where he's shipwrecked and then gets married to a local woman who dies, but in her culture, the remaining, living spouse gets buried alive with the dead partner.  He's buried with her and given, as is traditional, some bread and water for seven days.  When the next couple arrives in the communal tomb, it's the wife who's alive and the husband who's dead.  Sinbad bludgeons the wife to death to get her seven-day ration.  And he keeps doing this to new arrivals until he can escape.

Kinda makes Song of the South rather charmingly harmless, doesn't it?

After the Arabian Coast, which sadly could use some more features, I think (probably without the old- lady bludgeoning), there's the "Lost River Delta," which is kind of like "The Jungle Cruise" expanded out, at least in tone.  The main ride here is an Indiana Jones ride, which is an ARV type ride.  It's pretty good actually, if a bit jerky.  But the best part is, by far, hearing Indiana Jones screaming at you in Japanese while blowgun darts and giant stone spheres bear down on you both.  It takes more from the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, which I didn't hate as much as most people did.  Oh, and the skull screams at you in Japanese too.

The interior of the ride is very cool.

Continuing counter-clockwise from there is the part of the park I both spent the least amount of time in and the most amount of line-waiting time. 

The main attraction there is Storm Rider, a futuristic encapsuled-simulation ride where there's a world weather authority that breaks up "super storms" across the world that are above a certain size and have the potential to wreak untold damage to lives and property.

You basically get to blow up a storm with a several-megaton bomb.  How cool is that?

Well, you're just along for the ride.  Your two impressively incompetent and/or hung over pilots nearly get you killed in the process, but the hull breach to your capsule, the misting water spraying you (which, sadly, I really could have skipped, since after dark, when I got to ride it, was freaking cold), and the filmography that uses both CGI and live-action footage really seamlessly is quite good.

The line is way long and very, very slow.  Get a Fast Pass.  The only reason I didn't was because it was either that or the Tower of Terror, and I couldn't miss that. And it was too late in the day.  So about 90 minutes in line.  As it got colder.  Don't recommend.

There's a bumper-boats type of ride called Aquatopia, which is a nice tip of the hat to the Grand Prix style rides in Paris and Anaheim -- Autopia, in fact is what they're called in those parks.  Except you're in bumper boats.  Again, it was getting on in my day at this point.  I had dinner reservations coming up, and it was cold.  A hot summer day, sure.  But not in December, thanks.

Coming back around from the Lost River Delta, you hit the Cape Cod piece of the American Waterfront.  There's not much there apart from some food stands.  And there's a funny place you can stand and see Cape Cod and the volcano at the same time.  Quite the contrast.

But at one point in the day, when I was despairing a bit of the lines, I went to the scale model of he steamliner.  I'm happy to report that, like Epcot and Paris Magic Kingdom, booze is available in the park.  The Teddy Roosevelt lounge, pictured above, had a bar menu as well as sweet, sweet alcohol, and, as I've already mentioned, they love their scotch there in Japan. 

The bar itself is really quite nice, with lots of polished wood panels and brass, and it looks like something right out of the amber depths of a turn-of-the-century cruiser.  Sadly, like most non-USA places, the pours are measured to the dram, although it was worth it only for the giant hailstone of ice they serve with it if you're drinking it over ice.  It's kind of nice, since it doesn't melt quickly at all and water down your scotch, but it definitely cools it.

As they day wore on, and I had to get more conscious of my time, I spent quite a while around the Renaissance structure on the Mediterranean harbor.  I foolishly missed an opportunity to walk through some Da Vinci style displays, but the whole complex had lots of things to discover in it, such as an actual camera obscura, telescopes, and some more mysterious things that you could interact with, but didn't seem to actually do anything, that I could tell. 

My favorite, by far, part was the orrery.  Inside a room with a blue, star-covered ceiling, while Gregorian chants bounce around the exquisite acoustics, there's a model of the solar system, with handles that you can turn.  The planet attached to the handle rotates around the brass sun, and dings every "year."  This was my favorte part of the park, I think, that wasn't ride-related.  It was so peaceful, uncrowded, uncomplicated, and extremely soothing. 

There's also a docked Age of Exploration-era ship that you can poke around in, with some boxes "containing" replicas of objects you'd find on a ship, including drinking cups, metal seals for letters, silverware, a sextant, and other items.

Nightfall on the park was really beautiful.  The Mediterranean Harbor is wonderfully lit.  The whole park has lights everywhere, and I took another tour of the park to see the differences between night and day, before going to dinner and then the Tower of Terror.  The steamliner looks especially nice too.

So, still trying to cling to vegetarianism, I went to the Italian restaurant for dinner, having made reservations some hours ahead of time in anticipation.  The place is right between the Mediterranean Harbor and the American Waterfront, so it's a good spot to go before the Tower of Terror.  It was a simple dinner of ravioli, salad, and tiramisu (and some pinot grigio, of course), just like what I'd get here.  Nothing funny or odd about it.  It was . . . remarkable how unremarkable it was. It was a nice Italian-American dinner. In Japan.

Although one thing was funny. It's fairly common that when you walk into an establishment, especially a restaurant, you'll hear "Irashaimase!" done in this way that's kind of drawn out, rising in tone, but still emotionally flat at the end, like one does when one says the same thing, over and over again, day in and day out.  "I-ra-shai-ma-saaaaayyyyyyy..." It's a "done" thing.  It's what you do. 

Well, the hostesses in the restaurant were clearly instructed that, five steps into the main dining room -- and I know it was almost always five steps because I sat right at the entrance and saw it happen every time they went to seat a customer -- you're to welcome your guests the same way, only in Italian.  So I'd hear, every couple of minutes, "Buona seraaaaaaaaaaa ..."  The ladies used the exact same intonation I'd heard a dozen times before in Japanese, only converted to Italian.  The first couple of times I thought they were saying it to me, since they weren't facing their customers at all, and they had to pass by me to get into the room.  After a while, I realized they, uh, weren't.  But without fail:  "buona seraaaaaaa....buona seraaaaaaaaa....buona seraaaaaaaaa...."

I wound up sitting next to the same lady I flew out with, on my way back.  She's originally from Japan and laughed like hell when I told her this, since she knew exactly what I meant, and I captured the "irashaimase" tone perfectly.

Anyway, the Tower of Terror.  In Orlando, this is the Hollywood Tower of Terror, once a hotel, that was struck by lightning and sent occupants of an elevator into the Twilight Zone.  In Tokyo, the building was owned by some Ripley-style (as in "Believe It or Not!") gentleman explorer, who brought back relics and curios from around the world.  There was lots of cool old-style black and white footage in the movie in the pre-show, that was nonetheless made for the ride recently.  And the idea is that he brought back a cursed statue that sent him, in his hubris, into the Twilight Zone.

That's about the gist of it I got, since it was all in Japanese.  Oddly, the storm rider one was all in English, that I recall.  But this one wasn't.  The preshow was a bit shorter, sadly, and the entrance to the building that you walk through didn't quite have the grandeur of Orlando's. But there's an awesome illusion where the statue disappears in front of your eyes.  The pictures above are in the last room before you queue for the elevators, and when it's all lit like that, it explains the story (at least, I'm assuming it does, since I couldn't understand a word of it), and then the statue, on the right, cut off in that second picture, comes to life, screams at you in Japanese (you get used to it in the park), and then disappears right as the lights come back up.  You see it the whole time, but in the space between dark and light -- an eyeblink of time, I'm not kidding -- it just disappears.  Really good trick.

The queue for the elevators is well done, as the explorer dude's extensive collection is around you.  Items are tagged and hung on walls or leaning against them, and there's tons of stuff from Egypt and the Amazon, and all around the world.  However, since I didn't understand the pre-show, I have no idea why I'm going in an elevator or what one has to do with the ride, but, y'know, I'm just going with it. 

Sadly, the ride isn't as well done or long as Orlando's version. They pump up the Twilight Zone piece of it with all kinds of effects, which are sadly missing from the Tokyo one.  And the elevator doesn't move forward, like it does in Orlando.  But the view is just as nice and the drop lots of fun.

So I managed to hold my cookies for the ride, although I had to get a sweatshirt, because at this time it was quite cold out and I wasn't prepared for it.  So I've got a ride with a terrified Mickey Mouse and a glow-in-the-dark picture of that freaky statue thing (it has a name, but I'm not sure what it is).

Okay, hang one, there's a good flash animation of the explanation.  A blurb:

New York, 1912. Since the owner's mysterious disappearance 13 years earlier, Hotel Hightower been called the "Tower of Terror." Now, the New York City Preservation Society has finished restoring the landmark hotel and has started giving tours to the public. But what mysteries might still lie in wait within?

Here's the link at the English DisneySea site.  Click on the "For More Information" link to get the animation. Cool!

And that was my trip.  An uneventful, long flight home next to Ritsuko, the same lady I flew out with. We compared notes and pictures -- she had a holiday in Korea -- and tried to take pictures of the sunrise from the plane. 

Blog to do list: 

• Upload and post on DisneySea from Japan (!)
• Upload pictures from Gallifrey One
• Gloat (well, maybe just a little)

Although Tworavens has begun only now to blog the trip to Japan we took, I still have one more day to go -- the last in Tokyo and on my trip.  You may recall that some years ago I went to Paris Disneyland, in an experience we all fondly remember as "Bizzaro Disney."  Well, I thought about it and decided that, yes, I had to go to Tokyo Disney.  I did not, however, go to the Magic Kingdom clone there.  There is a one-of-a-kind park that doesn't have an analogue anywhere else, and so this final Tokyo entry, when I get around to finally posting it, shall be known as "It Came From DisneySea!"

And it was pretty rad.

Also rad? Neil Gaiman to write an episode of Doctor Who.  Oh. Em. Gee.  As my dear friend Ottie said when she sent me the news, "I can hear you fangirling all the way over here." To which I say, "No, no you cannot," because a) I'm at work and can't be too loud and b) the noises I'm actually making can only be heard by whales, dolphins, and dogs.  And I have to stop, because I think my window glass is starting to frizzle.

And, goodbye Toto, and hello, Bollywood.  I've updated my video.

Today, we went to the Imperial grounds.  We got something of a late start, so we weren't able to go into much, but the grounds were nice enough to walk around.  Very soothing.

Afterward, we went to Aoyama, near Harajuku.  We mostly just poked around and went into the Watari Musem of contemporary art.  They had an installation of Luis Barragan's work.  Well, not his work, really, since he was an architect.  Instead, it was an attempt to recreate the interiors of his own personal space:  bedroom, music room, study, etc.  No pictures insidide the museum, unfortunately.

After that, an attempt to find a nearby restaurant failed, but we found a Balinese place nearby.  Satay! Tempeh! Nasi goreng! Yay!

Today, we went to the top of the metro government building, 45 storeys up, with an observation area.  Despite it's height, you can't see the whole city, but good-sized chunks of it.

After that, we headed to the Bayside area and took the monorail over to some reclaimed land on Tokyo Bay.  On the land, there are lots of malls; open promenades: a strange complex called "Venus Fort" where there was a Toyota test track, indoors, where you could try out cars; a giant "Eye of" type of ferris wheel; Joypolis, that Aarond and I wanted to call JoyOPolis, but couldn't, and is a large video game and mall structure; maritime museums; and "Japanese Future Science Building," a group of buildings of tech and telecom academia.  Oh, and a scale replica of the Statue of Liberty.

Then there was this dual statue.  When you looked at it from one side, it was turn-of-the-century Seuraut-type people listening to music, but at a right angle, it was a guy playing the piano.

At night, we could see the Rainbow Bridge, the main route for both cars and Monorail to get out onto the islands we were on.

Dinner was once again at Nataraj.  Tonight is a big going-out night, and rather than wrangle reservations here, we noticed that earlier dining makes getting a table easier (around 6pm, and you should be good to go).  That was a stop in Ginza, which let me go, on behalf of my sister, to Sanrio World, THE shop for all things Hello Kitty.  There are other Sanrio places around Tokyo, but this is their flagship.

Our trip back was the busiest we've had on the subway.  It's amazing how many people can fit in there, although slightly less so, when you are in among them, pressed body to body upright.  People manage to keep their calm though, with almost an eerie stoicism.  Once on the car, people go into their own little worlds of books, text messaging, or outright cat-napping.  Even standing up.  I think that's a survival thing, frankly, because I'd go nuts.