Too much rice? No problem...

[N.B.: I've decided that to fully exploit my prodigious literary talents (read, borderline illiteracy that I developed after four days of furious code-switching in Shanghai), I will forego long blog posts in favor of short, hopefully entertaining, impressions.]

They sell carbonated metamucil on the street. They call it Fibe-Mini. I'm not kidding. It's orange, syrupy, and tastes a bit like starchy, gooey Fanta. It's not quite as bad as it sounds (how could I not try it?), and I suppose it serves a useful purpose in a land with few salads and $80 bamboo-box melon. I love this country.

As the "Premium Fantasy Woman" (the unforgettable Nao Asuka) in Lost in Translation put it so memorably, "Lip my stocking!"

The Dins have arrived in Japan. Let the lipping begin.