While most people visiting Japan go crazy over the toys and the souvenirs, I go crazy over the food. Well, I wasn’t super crazy about the traditional food because I was sick of the rice-fish-pickles-noodles combination by Day Three. I was more interest in the fun snacks and candy they have everywhere, from the basement food markets with tons of samples, all the little cafe and sandwich shops in the train stations, the pastry shops, creperies (which I sadly did not indulge in) and soft serve parfait options. Also, I couldn’t buy any clothes because I couldn’t fit in any of them. How wrong is that!? I’m not a giant. There were so many girls in Tokyo that were my size. What gives!?
Anyway, there was one non-food item that I did buy myself, which was a Hello Kitty omamori from a temple in Kyoto for good health, specifically made for my blood type (A). How could you go wrong? It was amazing and went perfectly well with my Marc by Marc Jacobs purse (and any outfit I would wear).
Like any of that matters anymore. A week after I get home, I visit my grandma and show my omamori off (because it’s that adorable) and what does she do? She takes it, asks if it’s okay she can have it and I am forced to say yes, because whoever says no to their own grandmother is a heartless, cold person. RIGHT? So in less than 3 minutes (and less than 7 days after I bought my special souvenier), it was out of my hand and lost somewhere in the clutter next to my grandmother’s bed. She’s probably going to give it away, too, because she loves to “gift” things to anyone who’s not related to her. Ugh ugh ugh ugh.
I don’t think I’ve ever felt this heartbroken. I came home that night with the saddest face, and it didn’t help that a certain someone laughed at me when he found out, or that my sister blamed me when I called her in a panic in the car ride home, or that my mother pointed out over the emergency long distance call that I’d probably never find another one again because when are we ever going to Kyoto again in the near future?
But I’m comforting myself knowing that my omamori was broken anyway, because of the following:
- I got sick and threw up four (FOUR!) times the night after I bought it.
- It made me forget our Sonicare toothbrush in Tokyo.
- The little bell on the string made me sound like a cat anywhere I went.
- Did I mention I barfed?? What kind of good health charm makes you barf within 24 hours?
Also, people who write mean blog entries about their grandmothers are not cold, heartless people. They are people with FEELINGS and strong attachments to material things, especially those made out of pink silk and Hello Kitty.