I don't think we're in Kansas anymore

When we woke up Sunday morning it was snowing, for the second time since we arrived, and it was beautiful. Big fat flakes, but it wasn't as much fun to be outside as they just melted on contact, so it was like you were being rained on in slow motion. So instead of trying to build a snowman in Ebisu plaza, we trekked to Children's Hall in Shibuya to see a free stage production of The Wizard of Oz. Dorothy, Scarecrow, Tin man and Lion were just as you remember them, only they spoke and sang in Japanese. The Wicked Witch of the West had a green face, black pointy hat and scraggly broom, and Glinda wore a pink gown. There were scary monkeys and a stuffed Toto in a basket. And Dorothy was played as a real girlie-girl, all perky in her blue and white bibbed dress and white knee socks, and she squeaked and squealed a lot. For the tornado, four chorus members wearing silver lycra bodysuits ran around stage holding the four corners of a silvery sheet, swishing and swirling it over Dorothy's head until she collapsed to the floor. When the munchkins thanked Dorothy for flattening the Wicked Witch of the East with her house, they kneeled before her in a semi-circle and bowed down all the way to the floor, ending up in child's pose, as in, we really, really honor you. Throughout the show T and I whispered crucial plot information to the kids (the scarecrow, see, he wants a brain...the witch got wet so now she's melting, etc.) to help them follow along. When I pointed out the ruby slippers and told our 7-year-old that they helped protect Dorothy, he demanded clarification. "Do they protect her," he asked, "or do they protect her feet?"