Three Kids and a Change in Plans

We all woke up early. I don’t remember who was first, but it doesn’t matter. We were all just looking for a reason to get out of bed. It wasn’t completely dark out, but it was still that steely cold grey. Except this wasn’t winter. It was summer. In Tokyo. During rainy season. And, having arrived the night before from NYC, it was our first day of two weeks we were going to spend in the country, splitting our time between Tokyo, Kyoto, and Tokyo Disney (don’t judge; we’re a Disney family).

I threw open the window curtains, and we watched the city wake up out of our floor to ceiling windows on the 14^th floor. We waited. And waited. People started to fill the streets, but the sun stayed hidden, as it would all day. And the next. And the next. And the next. We dressed. We ate. We thought maybe it was time to get out of the hotel room and check out all the nooks and crannies we could manage to squeeze into our days before we left for Kyoto in five days. We were optimistic. Even my husband, who is more opposed to rain than the Wicked Witch of the West, was ready to take on what we thought was a little bit of drizzly morning rain.

Our first discovery just reinforced that this day was meant to be good. We followed an underground tunnel to an office building next door and stumbled right into the hands of Starbucks. Being five months pregnant, the ice coffee craving that this sweet little spot handled just helped set the blissful pace. Or so I thought. With coffee in hand, we lowered the rain covers on the strollers and crossed the street to the entrance of the long winding walkway to the rail system. No problem though. It was all covered, so stroller covers were up and little people legs were kicking with happy.

Then it happened. We got off the rails at Harajuku Station and were greeted with sheets of water. We waited. And waited. And then we just couldn’t wait any more. So, it was rain covers down and into the fray. We tried to go to a shrine. The path was pebbles, and it was surrounded by dark trees. It was beautiful in the rain, but it was impossible to push strollers through the mud and pebbled puddles. We headed to the streets. And then it got worse. We turned to the closest place we could find. The Gap. Yes. We tried to go in The Gap while in Tokyo. Even that didn’t work. It was so early that nothing was open yet. It seemed Tokyo had given us warm coffee, and then sent us out into the rain. And the littles? They were rapidly losing their minds. Their strollers had quickly become sweat boxes with the plastic rain covers on (did I mention that it was 800 degrees?). My little people couldn’t see out of the foggy, sticky wrapping. For all they could see, they could have been anywhere.

That day it rained on and off (as in the sky exploded. All. The. Time.). We hid out in restaurants and stores. A bank. Places we hadn’t actually meant to see. We tried to wander the city streets, but could barely keep our heads up. Finally, we went back to the hotel early to let the kids stretch their legs before dinner and to let our water-logged skin snap back into place. When back at the hotel, with the help and input from the concierge, we tried to make dinner reservations, offering our own options and options and options to those given by the concierge, but we found that most places wouldn’t allow children. (In fact, the place most recommended to us because we had children was Denny’s. Yes. I am talking about “Moons over My Hammy” Denny’s. You can imagine the pain this caused my husband who considers himself quite the foodie. To be fair, our food issue was not only due to having children with us, but also by the fact that my husband is allergic to shellfish and I was pregnant, so unable to eat most fish. Probably not the best place to travel expecting to eat local cuisine under those circumstances. So, there’s that.) We found one delicious, recommended Italian restaurant (weird I know) that would take us and one great Indian spot as well (that’s weird too, huh?). The rain though, lasted days, but in those few moments it didn’t rain? It was running through gardens and exploring new streets, new stores, new cultures (we fell in love with noodle places). Unfortunately, it was like a deluge most of the time.

On day four we were taking a bus trip to Mt. Fuji. My husband and I offered this as a short-term beacon of hope for the littles (seriously, they had Tokyo Disney coming in a few days). We were going to go from a bus, to a boat, to a cable car, to a final train home. It was a little person’s dream. Except we couldn’t see out of the bus windows because of the fog. And the boat drifted quietly through the thickness. And if it weren’t for the gentle lurching of the cable car, we’d never know it left the ground. We were so close to Mt. Fuji, as far up as cars can go, and yet we had no idea. We couldn’t see up or see down. In fact, we saw nothing. It was like we were behind the veil of a fogged-over stroller cover. We knew we had to make some changes.

That night we decided to leave Tokyo on the early train to Kyoto rather than spend one more day with the ins and the outs and the rain of the city. We vowed to come back when the kids were bigger. When they cared about good food. When they found new skylines profound. (Sometimes, the thing about living in a city like New York is that while other international cities are exciting, if they are too international, too modern and westernized, they just become a comparison.) My husband and I were excited to get the little people on a high speed train. We were excited to get to Kyoto. We were excited for temples, for the philosopher’s path. We wanted to remove ourselves from the hustle and bustle of Tokyo. We were excited to slow down and to feel Japan.

One high speed train later, we were at our hotel in Kyoto in a “traditional” room. The beds were on the floor and all the furniture was close to the ground, which is great if you have a four year old and a one and half year old. (It is less great if you are pregnant.) The rain started to lighten, and on our first morning, we saw a bit of sky. A clear sign we made a good decision. An indication we needed to get out and explore. Kyoto was a welcome weather change. While it was overcast, it was only raining 50% of the time. It was hot and sticky, but still, we managed to dry out between showers. This trip was starting to turn around I thought. The Temples were beautiful. But in combination with the rain and a bajillion steps, were a slow (think molasses) process. The little people got to be outside without their foggy rain covers. But, the little people were hot, and the little people wanted to run around (on the Temple grounds unfortunately). We took them to the Children’s Center at the hotel, hoping to give them an outlet. We found ourselves lingering in our hotel room a little later each morning and coming back a little earlier each afternoon. And then we recognized that feeling again. It was time to leave. Earlier than planned.

We needed to stop this trip. We needed to make it a vacation, which it would never be if the little people didn’t feel happy too. Too many days of seeing the world from behind foggy stroller covers had made them restless. Too many days of staying quiet. Of sitting still. Of not being a part of the world around them. They felt all give and little take. And we felt helpless to find them their kids space. So we gave. And we agreed to go Tokyo Disney early.

I want to say I feel ashamed to admit that I left such a culturally significant, spiritually in tune place as Kyoto just to take my little people early to Tokyo Disney, but I would be lying. I learned about Japanese culture sitting outside on a bench at the Mermaid Lagoon and watching parents and children, groups of teens, couples, and generations. I saw values in how people waited in line at Aquatopia. I learned custom in food choices. I watched my children’s faces and saw them grow. I heard their questions about the world because this world with princesses and talking animals was more relatable to them. I talked with my husband, reconnected without interruption, because my littles were soaking in every inch of what was happening around them. And it never rained. And what started as a trip ended as a vacation.