"HOW" Do You Say Christmas: A Holiday Wigwam Lighting & Donut Exchange

As many times as I visit San Bernardino, CA's legendary Wigwam Motel, the Route 66 icon never ceases to inspire wonder and joy; and really, are there any more fitting emotions for this most wondrous and joyful time of year?  Whether a road-trip stop, a pow-wow birthday, or a holiday festivity, the Wigwam Motel is an ideal setting for any occasion. 

This past weekend we were hosted by the Wigwam Motel and Charles Phoenix for the first-ever Wigwam Holiday Lighting & Donut Exchange.  Every year, I try to get more people in my life to forgo the tradition of gift giving and instead participate more fully in the season - donating time, caroling, looking at Christmas lights, etc. - and boy, did this event fit the bill.

Thanks to our pal Fabian of Chopit Kustoms, our ride for the evening
was his '55 Buick.  All decked out for Christmas, it looked right at
home amongst the wigwams.
(photo by Fabian)

Guess who was forced to sit in the backseat?

Mr. Tiny, Charles, and our pal, Cherie, who incidentally made the most-
delicious, vegan donuts (pistachio and peppermint).  As is the case in most
photos of me, my eyes were closed so Fabian photoshopped in some googly eyes.
(photo by Fabian)

The wigwam lighting itself was the centerpiece of an event filled with sing-a-longs (my favorite was The Carpenter's "Merry Christmas, Darling") and mountains of donuts (I failed to get a picture of the donut box tower).  Even the wattage of all those bulbs did nothing to stave off the frosty temperatures.

Leave it to the minds of Charles Phoenix and the
Wigwam Motel to create a Christmas tree out of stucco teepee.

In spite of the cold, there was a warm and wonderful turnout.  Hopefully, this is just the first in a new holiday tradition that is certain to get bigger and better with each holiday season.  Wouldn't you love to see all the wigwams lit, flashing in time with a holiday soundtrack?

The group photo
(photo via Charles Phoenix Facebook page)

Thanks to Charles and The Wigwam Motel for helping us get in the holiday spirit!  If you are ever in San Bernardino, be sure to stay in a wigwam!

Wigwam Motel

2728 W Foothill Blvd

San Bernardino, CA

(909)875-3005

www.wigwammotel.com


Cheers!

Mr. Tiny

wacky tacky tunes: The Sounds of Leroy Anderson

For me, there are certain names that are so inextricably associated with the holidays that they are akin to that of Rudolph and Santa Claus - names like Cole, Crosby, Como, Carpenter, and Ives.  Year after year, these voices, among others, faithfully provide the soundtrack to the holiday experience.  Nevertheless, I always wonder about their motivation for making Christmas albums; was it the overwhelming spirit of this joyful season or, much like it is today, was it a quick buck and guaranteed album sales?

Well, Karen...well, Perry...which one is it?
(Source)

As I listened to the 24-hour holiday music station today, "Have a Holly, Jolly Christmas" came through the tinny speakers of the wacky wagon.  Singing along in full voice - doing my best Burl Ives impression - I couldn't help but wonder about him.  Don't you kind of wonder about Burl Ives?  I've always loved him and his full-of-folksy-charm singing voice (my first introduction was "The Ugly Bug Ball" in Walt Disney's Summer Magic).  As Burl and I belted it out, I couldn't help thinking that there was something, I don't know, kind of sinister simmering beneath that holly, jolly exterior.  Do you think he loved singing "Frosty the Snowman?"  Did he feel that "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" was beneath his dignity?  Did he really want us to "Have A Holly, Jolly Christmas?"  I'm not so sure.  I stopped my sing-a-long as I pictured a tiny recording studio littered with empty whisky bottles and filled with the foul stench of stale cigar smoke and flatulence; between takes, a surly, dissheveled Ives mumbled incoherently at the sound technicians about "real acting" and "Oscars" and "Tennessee Williams."

Oh, something is simmering beneath the surface, alright...
(Source)

This image I've created of Ives is totally unfounded; the fact that he was supposed to have been a very kind man did nothing to keep me from being tickled by the sordid machinations of my mind - until it came time to rejoin the chorus.  However, I am not here to talk about Burl Ives nor his well-known Christmas compatriots.  I am here to discuss a musician that is every bit as embedded in the holiday tradition as the others but fails to get the same recognition - Leroy Anderson.

Leroy Anderson
June 29, 1908 - May 18, 1975
(Source)

Leroy Anderson was an American arranger/composer/conductor whose compositions include one of America's most-popular, oft-performed, secular, Christmas tunes.  As it happens, I appreciated this holiday favorite long before I knew of its composer; in researching Anderson further, I discovered that his work transcended the Christmas season.  

Anderson gained national fame in the late-1930's by arranging and writing light orchestral pieces for The Boston Pops.  It was Anderson's uncanny ability to transform the sound of traditional instruments and find the music in everyday objects that made him a musical whiz.  From jazz, to marches, to musical theater, and eventually to Christmas music, Anderson was also quite prolific.  To understand the full measure of Anderson's contribution to the sound of Christmas, I think it is important to review some of his other masterpieces first.

I've discussed at some length the fact that David Rose's "Holiday for Strings" is wacky tacky's theme song.  Well, if David Rose is responsible for the music that plays over the credits of our nonexistent film score, then Leroy Anderson is the genius behind every other song on the soundtrack.

"Jazz Pizzicato" (1938)

Anderson's first composition for The Boston Pops 

"The Syncopated Clock" (1945)

The theme song to CBS' "The Late Show" for 25 years and the real impetus 

for this post.  I fell in love with this song in a Japanese grocery store!

"A Trumpeter's Lullaby" (1949)
Written at the behest of The Pops' principle trumpeter
who was searching for an unusual solo piece.

"The Typewriter" (1950)

This perennial soundtrack favorite was most recently used in the French film, Populaire.

"Plink, Plank, Plunk" (1951)

This was used as the theme song for the game show, "I've Got a Secret."

"Sandpaper Ballet" (1954)

A charming piece meant to emulate the soft shoe routines of Vaudeville

Now we get down to Anderson's Christmas contribution.  In my estimation, there are three kinds of people when it comes to Christmas music - lovers, haters, and tolerators.  Tolerators are those who appreciate holiday music...but only when it is seasonally appropriate.  Lovers are the type of people for whom Christmas music is always seasonally appropriate; a true lover of Christmas music could be sitting on the white sands of Waikiki in the middle of summer drenched in coconut-scented tanning lotion and simply be unable to refrain from humming the refrain to "Mele Kalikimaka."  And haters, as the saying goes, "gonna hate."  Myself, I am a lover and Leroy Anderson's Christmas classic, "Sleigh Ride," never fails to get me in the holiday mood (with the whinny of the trumpet-horse and the whip crack as the best part).

"Sleigh Ride" (1948)

It is reported that "Sleigh Ride" was written during a 

particularly-punishing Connecticut heat wave.  It looks 

like old Leroy was a lover too. Well, Mele Kalikimaka!

In our house, Anderson definitely rates among Cole, Crosby, Carpenter, Como, and Ives, at Christmas and all year long!

Cheers!

Mr. Tiny

Crazy Crafty: Christmas Corsages

My maternal great-grandmother died before my fifth birthday.  My memory of her - and everything else for that matter - is more than a bit foggy.  To the best of my recollection she was a warm woman who loved her electric organ, loved her giant, desert tortoise, Lollipop, and loved treating the kids in my family to cheese puffs from a cardboard canister, syrupy "juice" drinks from waxy, little bottles, and Sunkist Fruit Gems - favorites to this day (leave it to me to remember little beyond the treats she gave us).

Great-Grandma
I'm disappointed in our imaginations; "Great-Grandma" is exactly what we called her.
At least you can see one source of my sturdy build and substantial upper arm.
(Also, how's this for my first-ever attempt at free, online faux-toshop? )

I think it is impossible to be truly "fancy" in San Bernardino, CA - especially in the days when the town was just a sun-burned, suburban stop long Route 66.  However, as a member in good standing of the Order of the Eastern Star, my great-grandma had plenty of opportunities to wear formals (of her own design and making, of course).  Based on her photographs from the middle part of the 20th Century, it seems that every Eastern Star occasion warranted a fancy formal and one simply could not wear a formal without a corsage - particularly at Christmas.

Even in her waning years, she still donned a full head
of hair, her own(ed) teeth, and a Christmas corsage.  Between the
specs and the corsage, I'm, digging the pink and gold color story!

A Christmas corsage is exactly what it sounds like; overtly festive and overly large, it is like a prom corsage that has been kissed by 1,000 spastic elves.  Traditional features include metallic leaves, miniature ornaments, flocked pine cones, bells, berries, holiday figurines, miles of looped ribbon, and sometimes, just sometimes, flowers.  If you ever wanted to know what it feels like to be your grandma's Christmas tree, just slap on a Christmas corsage and you're halfway there.

"Christmas Corsage: Ideal for table decorations,
boutonnieres, gift wrap trims"
(Source)

It is hard to say exactly why the Christmas corsage has fallen out of favor as the compulsory holiday accessory for women, except for the fact that on the whole they are cheap, gaudy, and usually quite massive.  Oddly enough, these are the exact qualities we seek when selecting our holiday apparel.

These examples of holiday corsages prove that while granny dear
was unique in many things - corsages were not one of them.
(Source 1, 2, 3, 4)

It is difficult to think of Christmas corsages as having an entirely-bad reputation; they have become so déclassé that they really have no reputation at all.  I don't think most folks would know a Christmas corsage from a tacky assemblage of fake florals and holiday trimmings...oh, right...  I suppose it is entirely possible that they are still a part of every festive woman's holiday ensemble in some areas of the world, but this year, I'm making it my mission to pin a little more wacky tacky onto the bosom of American womanhood.

The inspiration for my crazy crafting came from both the
photos of my great-grandmother and this lone, vintage
corsage that I had among all of my holiday hoardings.

Here is my recreation, using only materials that I had on hand.
Thanks to a few friends, I had the vintage bell ornament, miniature
toadstool, and Christmas tree.  I made the candy cane out of pipe
cleaner and the rest came from the flower section of my own personal
craft emporium.  I bound all of the wire and stems together with green,
velvet ribbon and dusted the whole thing with clear glitter.

Because I made all of the women in my life promise to wear a corsage this year, I decided that I had to make a few that were traditional and slightly more subdued in nature.

Somehow, they still turned out giant, glittery, and weird.

Figuring that any further attempt at making an understated Christmas corsage would be futile, I started deconstructing and reconstructing every bit and bob in my stash. 

This one started out as a few different tree
ornaments found at a local thrift store.

Elements of this corsage began life as a
holiday spray at the 99 Cents Only Store.

Like a wacky tacky take on the traditional primary colors,
I think aqua, red, gold, and silver might be my favorite
new holiday color combo. 

Cake toppers, tutti-frutti shoe clips, and a repurposed
flower bunch were the founding members of the
corsage I call, "California Christmas."

One never knows when miniature citrus fruit, roses, and
plastic, beach-party figurines will come in handy. 

Growing up in Southern California, I always made
like Bing and dreamt of a "White Christmas."

These days, I will happily take a California
Christmas every time; where else is it socially
acceptable to go for a tandem ride on a giant, vintage
ornament in the dead of winter wearing only a bathing
suit (a grossly-immodest bathing suit at that)?

How do you feel about Christmas corsages - or Hanukkah or Kwanzaa corsages for that matter?  Are you breaking out the glitter and the glue gun for some crazy holiday crafting this year?  Let us know what you're making.

Cheers!

Mr. Tiny

Out of This World: The Space Orb House

Most people refer to the solitary "Geosphere" along a lonely stretch of Arizona's I-40 as the "Golf Ball House."  I can understand; in very general terms it resembles a giant golf ball.  Given that it is raised from the ground by a tower, I will further concede that it does appear to be perched atop a tee just waiting for a 340-foot golfer to come along and whack it across the continental fairway and into  the great water trap that is the Atlantic Ocean.  However, this place shares neither the color nor the telltale dimples of a standard-issue golfball.  And, really, when was the last time anyone saw a golf ball with windows?

I like to believe that I am above striking the typical "tourist" poses, but
when one goes to Pisa, one must hold up the leaning tower.  When one
goes to Yucca, AZ, one must cup the space orb.  One cannot,
however, be expected to make like Atlas and keep one's eyes open.

This "golf ball" is an inspired bit of roadside architecture.  Given its prominence in the vast desert scape that could easily be taken for the wastelands of an alien planet, I think the house deserves a name with more dignity, more mystery, and more intergalactic drama.  I will henceforth refer to it as the "Space Orb."

Clearly, the owners are on the same page, as the grounds are a friendly landing
field to a fleet of small-scale spaceships, flying saucers, and UFO's.

As a private residence, the Space Orb is not open for exploration but the location makes for a great place to stop and take some out-of-this-world pictures (next time I think we will wear our moon suits).  Respecting the gate on the staircase that restricted access to the home, we definitely made use of the onsite convenience store's facilities and replenished the road trip snack reserves.

The convenience store sells UFO parachuters at the counter as an impulse buy.
Clearly, I have mastered my impulse issues; ordinarily, at twenty-five cents apiece,
I would have bought the whole barrel.  A master of self-control, I bought only two.
Do you know how many tokens and how games of skee-ball it takes me to earn enough
tickets to get just one parachuter at the Family Fun Center?!  A quarter was a steal!

Call it a golf ball, a UFO, or a space orb, this house is more fun than anyone else is providing in Yucca, AZ.  It is so remote that it would make an awesome set for a photo shoot, video, or film.  I might pitch the idea for my next project, "Mr. Tiny versus the Orb Women" to the owners and see if we can launch that into orbit.

The Space Orb "Golf Ball" House (and convenience store)
Alama Rd exit off of I-40
Yucca, Arizona


Cheers!

Mr. Tiny

A Day of Thanksgiving: The Johnson Family Counts Its Blessings

One of the things for which I have always been grateful is old, educational film reels.  I feel so lucky to have gone through school at the tail-end of the era when teachers still wheeled the projector in from the A/V storage room and began the process of winding the beginning of the decades-old film from one reel to another.  The films were always sensationally-corny but as an avid lover of nostalgia (even at a young age) I'll never forget that combination of overwhelming thrill and terror experienced in the moments of countdown; would it be "Donald in Mathmagic Land"(good), Mr. Bungle in "Lunchroom Manners" (great), or, heaven forbid, "Our Changing Bodies" (shudder)?  In honor of America's oldest holiday tradition, I share with you a wonderfully-apropos film reel about family and gratitude, "A Day of Thanksgiving."

"A Day of Thanksgiving"

Listening to the Johnson family talk about the Thanksgiving that was "the best [they'd] ever had," I was struck by two things - one, that the children were completely unaware that the Thanksgiving Holiday was upon them until Susan read it in the newspaper (kids reading newspapers, cuh-mon..) and two, how closely the family's gratitude list reminded me of Norman Rockwell's series of paintings, "Four Freedoms."  I definitely count Norman Rockwell's artwork as a blessing in my life.  While I am no amasser of Rockwell collectible plates, I have always appreciated the warmth, humor, and humanity of his fine illustrations.

"Four Freedoms" - Norman Rockwell

I love the courage and faith and love captured in each picture.  While "Freedom from Want" tends to get the most face time at Thanksgiving, I believe that every "Freedom" is important in acknowledging the rights we enjoy in this country, the rights we often take for granted.

Freedom from Want
Did someone say, "Free public library?"  Tommy may appreciate
the well-written words of Jack London but he is especially grateful
for plenty of food, including extras like cookies & milk after school.
GOLLY!

Freedom of Worship
Among her many blessings, like her clothes and her parents,
Susan was grateful for her ability to attend Sunday School.

Freedom of Speech
Mother, grateful for hot water, washing machines, the telephone,
a car, the safe birth of her children, dad's job, and American Democracy,
was probably most grateful for the freedom to meet friends and neighbors at
the backdoor for a good gab session on any subject, even Jane Jones' hat!

Freedom from Fear
With the very real threat of lurking fascists or gangsters,
Father is grateful that there is no fear in answering the
knock at the door (even if it is a bill collector...or more of mother's
darn friends who just can't stop talking about Jane Jones' hat). 

"A Day of Thanksgiving," and other instructional film reels of similar ilk, usually tend toward the melodramatic, the condescending, the banal.  Nevertheless, I think the simple messages of respect and gratitude are both timeless and quite-timely in a world plagued by "selfies."

In spite of Mr. Johnson's counsel that gratitude "isn't something you can write down like a grocery list," I will attempt to compile a brief inventory of those things for which I count myself thankful - keeping in mind that I've "got to feel it down deep before [I] can really be thankful for anything."

1. It may seem trite, but I am grateful for my family.  They are my best friends, my confidantes, and my reason for functioning (especially that little one, front and center).

The whole fam-damn-ily!

2. Little Tommy Tucker the Thanksgiving Squirrel

And Chi Chi the French Bulldog

3. wacky tacky!  It probably appears incredibly self-centered to be grateful for one's own blog but the support, friendship, and community that I found through blogging were an unexpected thrill.

4. wacky tacky!  No, there is not an echo in here; I am grateful for a world that is chock-a-block with whimsy, fun, energy, creativity, and inspiration.  I love adventure days and all the wild, wonderful, and weird roadside attractions that are available to the wacky tacky adventure team and to everyone!

The wacky tacky adventure team

5. A functioning body.  It might not be beautifully formed or full of grace, there may be a lot more of it than deemed fashionable, but, boy oh boy, I sure am glad that I can see, hear, type, sew, assist my friends and family, taste, and DANCE!!!

***no picture required here***

6. Feedback!  It is hackneyed amongst bloggers to express gratitude over comments but there is nothing better than to know there are "those wonderful people out there in the dark," reading (maybe even enjoying) our words.  Writing a blog is pleasurable work, but it is definitely work.  Understanding the joy that comes from receiving thoughtful comments, I will put forth a more concerted effort to spread that joy by commenting more often on the blogs that I love.  Thank you for your comments; I truly appreciate them!

There is a certain amount of delusional self-
importance required for writing this blog.
Please keep those comments coming!

7. Non-Thanksgiving dinners.  "Even the pilgrims had a feast; isn't that what Thanksgiving is for?"  Despite the Johnson kids' relish for "Turkey, and dressing, and pie, and cake, and fruit salad, and whipped cream, and cranberries," I find the Thanksgiving table to be a tad dull and overwrought.  I am, however, grateful for the relative abundance with which we live.  "No turkey for Thanksgiving?"  That's okay by me; let's have a salad bar or, better yet, Pineapple Upside-Down Loaf!

Well, it is most-assuredly abbreviated but this is my list for now.  I encourage everyone to follow the Johnson family's example and start "totin' up the common ordinary blessings that we have to be thankful for."  Just writing this short list has changed my attitude for the better and put me in the right spirit for our Thanksgiving festivities.

Americans might have the market cornered on turkey consumption but we certainly don't have it cornered on gratitude; because of this, I wish a "reel" Happy Thanksgiving to one and all!


Cheers!

Mr. Tiny

Tommy Tucker the Thanksgiving Squirrel

With only a couple days left for Americans to remember that for which they are truly grateful, I decided to join the thankful throngs and entertain the same thoughts myself.  As I ponder the many things for which I am ever appreciative, I can't help but reflect on my travels.  I am not especially well-traveled but with the opportunity to explore other countries and other cultures, I am reminded that wacky tacky knows no creed, color, geographic boundary...nor species.

I was overjoyed when, in Kyoto, we stumbled upon a
staged family of Tanuki (Japanese raccoon dogs) going
about the rigors of daily life in feudal Japan.

I imagine that dressing and staging a whole tanuki family is quite the undertaking, but obviously this taxidermied bunch wasn't putting up much of a fight.  Imagine dressing a real, live squirrel!

Little Tommy Tucker, the muse and ward of  Mrs. Mark Bullis of Washington D.C., was
orphaned at birth.  With a wardrobe of thirty, couture outfits of Bullis' own design, Tommy
(and his French Bulldog) became a mild sensation in wartime America after his feature
in Life Magazine.
(Source)

I'm assuming that Mrs. Bullis named Tommy after the old English nursery rhyme of the same name:

"Little Tommy Tucker 

Sings for his supper.

What shall he eat?

White bread and butter.

How shall he cut it without any knife?

How will he be married without a wife?"

Don't let a squirrel fool you; it is entirely possible to eat bread and butter without a knife (plenty can be accomplished with  dull spoon - plus, arming a squirrel is never a good idea).  On the other hand, it is probably no small task to woo a squirrel wife while sporting a tartan-plaid pinafore; you might be wondering why Tommy, a boy squirrel, is dressed in such a feminine frock.  Well, have you ever tried to get a live squirrel into a pair of Sunday britches??!!!  You also might be wondering how one distinguishes a boy squirrel from a girl squirrel, anyway?  The answer is easy; check his nuts.

Dressed in his marketing ensemble, it appears that Tommy indeed sang for his supper.
Although what supper he would be getting from the butcher shop remains a mystery.
Frankly, I would be afraid to take my pet squirrel to the sausage company
during WWII when food was rationed and meat was scarce.
(Source)

After marketing, Tommy becomes a model for the latest in trans-rodent fashion
including ric rac, stripes, gingham, prints, and "a pleated, silk dress for company."
His credits include "professional model" but he looks a little squirrelly to me...
(Source)

All play and no work makes Tommy a silly squirrel.
Tommy was sure to make time for entertaining hospital-bound children while wearing his Red Cross uniform.
(Source)

All tucker-ed out at the end of a productive day, Tommy makes sure to
wash behind his ears and say his prayers before drifting off to dreamland.
(Source)

Once we had a baby bird fall into our spa and, after rescuing it from drowning and trying our best to foster it, it quickly earned its figurative wings in glory land.  I'm not really an animal person; while I could imagine nurturing the baby bird, I certainly couldn't imagine making it a full costume collection and taking it to the grocery store - and I have a pretty darn good imagination!

Have you ever adopted a wild animal into your family?  We may or may not have a tiny, baby lizard currently occupying the spare bedroom but as we have yet to feed it or sew a single stitch, I'm not sure that counts.  Nevertheless, when I count my blessings this Thanksgiving, I will definitely include Mrs. Bullis, Tommy, and all the others who make wacky tacky a full-time job.

"Hi-Heel Sneakers" - Tommy Tucker (1964)

For the cross-dressing squirrel who has everything! 

Happy Thanksgiving!


Cheers!

Mr. Tiny

A Mild Case of the Grumpies at The Happiest Place on Earth

If you are going to visit "The happiest place on Earth," it would be well-advised to make sure that you are actually happy.  We waited until our last full day in Japan to explore a version of a theme park that is no more than twenty minutes from our front door; and while we weren't exactly unhappy, we were definitely at the point in our trip when the novelties of what we initially thought were the most charming customs and unique characteristics of Japanese culture were seriously beginning to wear off.  Our mental state, aggravated by an epic forced march through the bowels of Tokyo Station, followed by a sardine-can train ride, had us feeling (for the very first time) a little wistful for America - a land where dignity and restraint, minding one's manners, and respect for others are policies almost unanimously vetoed in favor of the freedom to complain...noisily...to anyone who will listen. 

Don't misunderstand me, we truly loved Japan.  We even loved Tokyo Disneyland.  It was pretty marvelous getting the opportunity to see such a concentrated version of American culture as experienced in a foreign country.  We were just a little grumpy (and maybe sneezy, sleepy, and dopey too).

Despite our grumblings, things were looking up when we got to the ticket booth and realized that we could visit both of Tokyo's Disney parks for less than the price of a one-park ticket at home.  We began the day at Tokyo Disneyland where the recently-debuted "Happiness is Here" parade, as designed by our good pals, was taking place (an entire post will soon be dedicated to its awesomeness, stay tuned).

Main Street, U.S.A.

Although I was never around to experience Disneyland's early days, Tokyo Disneyland gave me the impression of the old park before the Fantasyland makeover, before the crumbling of Carnation Plaza, before the demise of the PeopleMover.  The walkways of Tokyo Disneyland are wide.  The lands are are spare and there are many places to rest one's eyes.  The concession carts are simple and not thematically linked to the area of the park in which they vend.  With few exceptions, the park looks very much like 1962 (don't quote me Disney fanatics) and we think that is a good thing!

Pirates of the Caribbean

Our first ride of the day left us hopeful that all the lines would be as short; we walked right on to a ride 

that, except for a few glaring differences (only one drop), is a very close comparison to the original.

The Jungle Cruise

We had no idea what our skipper was saying but we still laughed in all the right places!

Country Bear Jamboree

Even though half of the program was in Japanese, I can't tell you how comforting it was to revisit the old
gang.  I was always an ardent fan of Disneyland's musical attractions - live, animatronic, and otherwise!

Food

We were so intent on getting to Disneyland that we did something I've heard people say was possible but I firmly believed to be an urban legend - we forgot to eat.  By the time we had gone on Pirates of the Caribbean, The Jungle Cruise, The Swiss Family Robinson Treehouse, and Country Bear Jamboree (the last two representative of Tokyo Disneyland's greatest genius - keeping these two attractions intact), it was well past lunchtime and we were starved (understanding that this is a completely-relative term).  On the hunt for a corn dog, or a hamburger, or anything really, it had never occurred to us that in this bastion of Americana, we would be at a loss for American food.  Come on, who wants to eat a fried pork cutlet served with curry before going on Space Mountain, for goodness sake?!!  Eventually, Mary found a pizza topped with teriyaki and mountain yam and I discovered a Mickey-shaped chicken sandwich and salad in a cup. If we had only found the hot dog vendor earlier, we might have known how an egg-teriyaki dog or cabbage-avocado cheese dog would have tasted...maybe next time.  And yes, those are Mike Wazowski pastries!

The Enchanted Tiki Room

The Tiki Room, my all-time favorite attraction at Disneyland was a huge bust at Tokyo Disneyland 

in spite of the beautiful buildings.  Let's put it this way, less Lilo & Stitch and more tradition, please.

The Haunted Mansion

It is only natural to compare each Disneyland ride to its Japanese counterpart.  I was hoping to experience this ride sans the Nightmare Before Christmas layering; still, with pride I say that Anaheim's Haunted Mansion is superior - at least when it comes to the facade.  A decaying Southern plantation is much more frightening than Toad Hall.  Be warned, Tokyo Disneyland doesn't tolerate any hijinks; I may or may not have shut down the ride after knocking on the next "Doom Buggy" over - old habits die hard.

Big Thunder Mountain Railroad

Now this is where Tokyo has California beat; Tokyo's Big Thunder seems
faster, longer, and more fun.  Somehow the Wild West is wilder in the far east.

Splash Mountain

I hate Splash Mountain.  I've always wondered why such a huge ride would be dedicated to a movie deemed so inappropriate that Disney refuses to release it from the archives.  I also wondered why I waited through a traumatic, hour-long line only to be launched down a giant flume based on the dictates of Mary.  Can you tell from the photo that I'm not having a good time? 

Cinderella's Castle

I hate to say it, but this waking beauty kind of puts Sleeping Beauty's 

Castle to shame...I've always been more of a Cinderella fan anyway.

Mary put together an Instagram video of our Disneyland experience. 

Please don't take offense; a natural mimic, I spent our whole

 two-week vacation trying to refine my impressions and received

a host of compliments on my accent.

Having hit most of the highlights of Disneyland, it was high time (according to the Mickey Mouse clock) for us to head over to Disney Sea via the monorail.

The Monorail

The mickey clock, windows, and ring-handled straps almost made the monorail
worth the fact that we had to pay for the ride - unheard of at Disneyland, CA.

Built just on the other side of a seawall from the actual sea, Disney Sea is a water-themed park rather than a themed water park; each land is dedicated to an area of the world that has a connection (if only very loosely) with a large body of water.  Instead of a railroad that circles the park (like Disneyland California), Disney Sea takes guests on a circular tour of the park via water taxi!  Although we arrived at the the park after sundown, the incredible effort taken to create beautiful landscapes and interesting environments was quite evident. 

Sinbad's Storybook Voyage & The Arabian Coast

The motivation for going on the Sinbad ride was found in the absence of a line.  Initially, I thought that the ride was quite lame but after a few minutes, I was duly impressed by the art direction and quality of the animatronics.  Plus, the boat full of bananas really smelled like bananas!

Mediterranean Harbor

This land was probably my favorite if only for its beautiful views and realistic atmosphere;
hotel rooms of real hotel guests look down on cobblestone streets and glittering harbor.

Lost River Delta

Lost River Delta is home to Indiana Jones and the roller coaster, Raging Sprits.
Not wanting a raging headache, I let Mary ride it alone while I returned to 
The Arabian Coast for a ride that was more my speed - Jasmine's Flying Carpets. 

Mysterious Island

Still seeking a bit of a thrill, we went on Journey to the Center of the Earth.; Mary failed to explain that it is basically Splash Mountain revisited, only drier.  We also went on the 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea ride - a submarine treat!

The American Waterfront

Perhaps, it was because we were feeling just a touch homesick that we found this area so special.

From the Queen Mary lookalike to the New England port town to the mini Atlantic City, the American Waterfront 

I will admit that it did seem odd to me to dedicate an entire day of our once-in-a-lifetime Japan adventure to a byproduct of distinctly-American culture - and maybe it was.  A trip to Disneyland is a requisite stop for those visiting Southern California but what American tourist makes it a point to go all the way to Japan only to visit Disneyland?  Actually, I can answer that.  We spotted a few couples/families who, in all their obvious Disney dorkery, apparently devote every vacation to exploring the world's Disney theme parks.  While we're not quite that dorky, we are happy to have visited Japan's "Happiest Place on Earth."

Can you believe than in the Mr. Tiny archives, there is a commemorative
medallion from Tokyo Disneyland's opening day in 1983?!?!!
The hoardings archives are a bit like Mary Poppins' famous carpet bag!

Do you think Disneyland is the happiest place on Earth?  If you went all the way to Japan, would you spend a day at Disneyland?

Cheers!

Mr. Tiny