Nihon o omoidasu

If the title of this blog post leaves you lost in translation, you're not the only one. 

I woke up this morning "remembering Japan," or "Nihon o omoidasu," and wondering what it is about this time of year, this week, today, that has me reliving, and remembering, the past.

I think part of it has to do with the fact that I recently moved into an apartment that reminds me of the one I had in Japan. 

Koshigaya, to be specific. 

After a year of living large in the country, in an abode that housed a walk-in closet larger than my current kitchen, I'm back to Japanese-style living.

Think... capsule hotel.     

While my current apartment is not quite as, ummmm, cozy (real-estate talk for small), as a capsule hotel and, thankfully, isn't equipped with the (mite-infested) tatami mats it's Koshigaya counterpart was, it does remind me of the place I called home for one year when I was 23.

Minus the genkan. Which I loved. 

Imadake is another reason I've been lost in translation recently. 

Meaning "only for now," Imadake is a Japanese pub in downtown Montreal that serves small, traditional and very "oishi," or "delicious," dishes (including mochi, takoyaki and okonomiyaki) in an ambiance totally reminiscent of Tokyo.

Ever have a sake bomb? If you haven't you should.

When I say sake, you say bomb!

 the sake bomb starts at 1:02

To appease the lack, and loss, of Japan in my life I decided to watch Lost in Translation this morning while writing this blog post. Written and directed by Sofia Coppola, the movie provides moment after moment of deja-vu, as Scarlett Johansson's character finds herself living, and feeling, so many of the same things I did so many moons ago.  

Like this:

And this:

 Lost in translation indeed.