Yesterday, I took the kids to Kabukiza, the great old warhorse of a theater slated for demolition later this year.  We watched the first act of "Genroku Chushingura."  My 17-year-old promptly fell asleep and kept waking up with a startle reflex, much to the alarm of those sitting near us. My 12-year-old was a bit more into it.

   After leaving the theater, we needed to head to Tokyo Station.  It's almost within walking distance, but the kids were exhausted, so I decided to take a cab.  We hailed one just across from Kabukiza and got in.  The driver, sixty-ish looking, appeared a bit befuddled.  I told him we needed to go to Tokyo Station.  He paused.

   "Do you know the way?" he asked in Japanese.

   An odd question -- like a NYC taxi driver who couldn't figure out how to get to Grand Central Station.  I said I roughly knew the way, and then he decided to use his global navigation system.  But he couldn't figure out how to make that work, either.  

   After watching him fiddle with the buttons with no success for a couple of minutes, I announced that I was pretty sure I could guide him.  I did so, following the street signs.  I had him drop us off as soon as the station building came into sight:  the last thing in the world I wanted to do was to make him navigate the crowded taxi queue. 

   The last time I saw such sheer confusion in a human being was in the days before my mother's brain tumor was diagnosed.  I have to wonder....

   We're now up in Sendai, visiting my in-laws for the weekend.  Satoko will join us later today, and tomorrow night we're all off to an onsen (hot springs resort).   Sunday I'm bound for Kyoto to take care of some business.  I'll be back in Tokyo late Monday night, and by all reports the cherry blossoms should be in full bloom right around then.