Hot cocoa and a rainy morning leave me lingering in the hotel café.  I get to look at periwinkle and yellow irises.  Beyond the flowers there is a bamboo fountain with water trickling out.  Sarah is not feeling well this morning so I will explore more of Kyoto solo and remember to bring her back orange juice for her sore throat.

I go to the hotel’s front desk and in Japanese ask for a taxi to the nearest department store.  The attendant then goes outside in the rain and hails a cab for me.  I assumed she would call a taxi company on the phone. I instantly feel guilty and thank her profusely when one arrives in a jiffy.

The taxi driver and I chat about baseball.  He passes what look like to me, perfect department stores, but I realize later that he must take me to his wife’s favorite.  “Best items” he says and I try to give him a tip but he refuses.

Pink “Love To Mamma” signs are everywhere. Mother’s Day is a big holiday here. (Another reason to love Japan.) Rows and rows of designer handkerchiefs and scarves line the shelves.

I travel up an escalator to the second floor, round the corner and find my oasis.  A manicure shop that is not afraid of my ugly toes.  They frown when they notice my all terrain sneakers, but accept me as a client none-the-less.  My pedicurist is so gentle with me and speaks English with great fluency.  As if this experience was not relaxing enough, beyond our station is a flat screen TV that plays a recorded version of an ocean sunset.

Gentle turns into a massage by Cruella De Ville as my feet get rubbed.  The whole pedicure takes two hours, three types of lotions, two exfoliants and lots of sanding with a giant emery board.  Now I can present at the National Museum of Modern Art with toes that shine.