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This week’s writing took me in three very different directions, even though I stayed put here in California. A historic Oakland theatre, a shifting political moment in Japan, and a plate of perfectly crisped chicken skin skewers each found their way into my blog in their own unexpected way. None of these were things I did this week, but they were things I kept thinking about, and somehow they formed a quiet through-line about attention, influence, and the small joys that shape how we experience Japan, no matter where we are. The first piece was about my recent visit to the Paramount Theatre in Oakland. What surprised me most during that visit was how often Japan appeared in the details. In the curve of a sculpture, in the shimmering patterns of the ceiling, even in the mention of Hokkaido ash tucked into an upstairs restroom display. When I sat down to reflect, the piece became a meditation on quiet cultural echoes, the kind that don’t announce themselves but reveal their presence the longer you look. Midweek, my writing turned toward something entirely different: the Japan Outlook 2026 program. I attended the event last week, but it was only in revisiting my notes that the pieces fell into place. With Sanae Takaichi newly elected and both Japan and the U.S. recalibrating priorities, the session felt like a snapshot of a year already shifting beneath our feet. Writing the post felt like opening a window onto questions we will be returning to again and again this year. And then, because writing weeks rarely unfold in logical thematic order, I found myself ending with chicken skin. More specifically, kawa yakitori, glistening under my husband’s careful hand on the grill. This wasn’t a new meal, but it was a story I had been wanting to tell: how Japanese food culture turns what many kitchens would discard into something transcendent. Kawa is one of those perfect examples. Nothing wasted. Everything respected. Technique transforming scraps into pleasure. Somewhere between the history of yakitori in the Edo period and the small rituals of our own kitchen, the post became a reminder of how deeply care and resourcefulness run through Japanese cooking. Looking back, I didn’t travel to Oakland this week, I didn’t attend any election events, and I didn’t discover yakitori anew. But the writing brought each experience into sharper focus, and together they created a week shaped by three kinds of noticing. The details hidden in architecture. The signals of political change. The beauty tucked inside the humblest ingredients. All reminders, in their own way, that Japan threads itself into my days long after the moment itself has passed. I hope your week brought its own reflections too, whether from something you did or simply something you finally took the time to put into words. Warmly,
Saskia
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