2025, A Shit Year

On Sunday, December 28, 2025, the writer, Homa Pourasgari, collapsed and died while taking a hip hop class. Her family wanted her to stick to crocheting, but she wouldn't have it. Always too adventurous for her own good, she lived a life outside the norm. When all her family and friends were planning their wedding from a young age, she travelled everywhere, living in different countries as often as possible, and meeting people from all walks of life. 

She enjoyed watching the movie, Charmed, with her teenage cousins instead of sitting around in a room full of pretentious family members. She would go on rides all day in Disneyland with her young nieces while sitting in the front row, and getting soaked from head to toe. A kid at heart, Homa got along well with children, and young adults. Her friends would say that she was stubborn to a fault, always wanting to do things her way, even if it meant making as many mistakes as possible. Her motto was, life was meant to be lived, and the future was too far away. 

A foodie, she would joke with her friends that she would not die of diseases, but rather from eating herself to death. Although she enjoyed exercising, she did everything late in life. At 18 when she had just learned how to ride a bicycle, she rode around a swimming pool on a dare, and ended up at the bottom of the pool with her new bicycle. 

When she was 23, she ran a famous franchise retail store even though she had no experience, and all her father's friends in France, and Iran said that there was no way that a franchise would let her open a business under their name. At 35, she left an accounting career, took anatomy classes, got licensed, taught indoor cycling, cardio kickboxing, and weight trained male clients, working alongside her twenty-something year old colleagues. 

At 40, she decided to change paths, and write novels. People around her told her that she was crazy, and that she couldn't do it, but she went ahead, and did it anyway. When people told her that she couldn't do something, she became determined to go, and do it. A conventional life bored her, and conservative people and her didn't mesh. Never trying to fit in, she did what she wanted when she wanted. 

She asked to be cremated, and set free in the sea. She never liked funeral flowers, and preferred lot's of color. Homa said that before she died, she didn't want to have any regrets about how she missed an opportunity to do what she wanted. She asked that after her death, instead of crying, to dance and celebrate her.

Anyway, this is the obituary that I wrote about myself. I wanted to do this because 2025 was a shit year for me. I had to let go of too many people because they hurt me both mentally, and emotionally. My family and friends are always surprised at how often I let hurtful things slide. I think it's because the people I care about are an important part of my life. Even so, I do have a boiling point. When people cross that line, I move on, because I can no longer trust them, nor forget or forgive what they did. 

With that said, I'm announcing 2025 to be the year that I died. I like hot pink roses. So, only if you fancy, when you pass by the sea, throw one in the water in my memory.

 

Charles Dickens and Tam O'Shanter

Every Christmas, I try to do something festive, and this time I ended up at the Tam O'Shanter. This place has been around for more than 100 years. There is a ton of history behind it which I will not get into here, but if you're interested, you can find more info at Discover Los Angeles. They used to have a neon Christmas sign, but for some odd reason, they have taken it down, and so, it's easy to miss this place as you drive or walk on by.

The story behind the lightening bolt is based on a Scottish poem by Robert Burns, titled Tam O'Shanter. This poem is about the dangers of overdrinking. Tam was a Scottish farmer who would go out with his friends, and get drunk. One night on his way home, he runs into witches and warlocks dancing around the fire. He watches them from a distance, but when they spot him, they come after him. As he tries to run away with his horse,

 

"The lightening flash from pole to pole, 

Near and more near the thunders roll,"

 

And so, several years after the restaurant was established, the owner added the lightening bolt logo.

The décor of this place creates a warm ambience for the patrons who want to hangout for hours, but I think that they only give you an hour and-a-half table time during the holidays, We had no problem because we got in two hours before closing, and were able to sit for a longer period.

Walt Disney and his staff were regulars here, and they usually sat at table 31 by the fire.

There is a cozy bar area where people have meals at lunchtime. Someone told me that the sandwiches are tasty.

They get busy this time of year, but even so, the service is great, the tea is perfectly hot, just the way I like it, and the crème brûlée is pretty good.

The quartet of Dickens Carolers (soprano, alto, tenor, and bass), take a request of your favorite Christmas song when they come to your table. They have a hat where you can drop in your tip. I asked them if it was okay to film them, and they said yes. They asked if I would give them credit for their singing, and handed me their card. There were two different websites on the card: Voices of Christmas, and Wonderelles Music. Apparently you can book them for various events.

They have outside seating as well. I'm not sure if the carolers come outside to sing. So, before you reserve a table, call ahead to find out. Below are more pix. It's a nice place, and puts you in a holiday mood. I wanted to come here last year, but the inside was completely booked. If you plan to go during the holidays, reserve your table at least two months ahead.

Cleaning House

"Keep only things that speak to your heart. Then, take the plunge, and discard all the rest. By doing this, you can reset your life."—Marie Konmari 

It's time to eliminate some things from my life. A few days ago, or so, I put together donation boxes. I still have more to go. The above picture of my stuff is a small sample. These are things that make me hold on to the past. Things that no longer give me joy. Things that are now meaningless to me. 

First in, first out. I began gathering what was sitting in front of me, and wondering why was I still hanging on to them—sweaters, jackets, T-shirts, sweatshirts, cuffs, rings, beads, and silver necklaces. Then I made a few calls to various charities to see if they were accepting donations. I know that it's strange to call up places, but many of them are full, and will turn you down when you show up at their door.

 

Anyway, I finally found a place, and drove there. The lady working at the donation desk kept all the jewelry to herself, especially the handmade rings and silver cuff, the Trinity Knot necklace, and a heavy handmade silver cuff with a large turquoise in the center. She couldn't believe why I would be giving them away. I told her that although they made me happy once, they no longer brought me happiness. I also said that I'm glad that she likes them because all that silver has now found a new home. Once I gave away these items, I felt free. Because sometimes in life, we hang on to things for too long. 

Note: I'm one of those people who folds things neatly before giving them away. If you're like me, this can be a bit frustrating, because when you give them to a charity, they will undo all of the clothes, and toss them into a bin. Yet, I continue to neatly fold the giveaways because that's my way of showing respect to them, and to the receiver, even if they will never know how much I cared about them at one point in time.  

Yanaka, Part II

Mari, my guide, gave me a map, told me to go and checkout a popular outdoor market, Yanaka Ginza, and then she had to leave. I began to explore the area with no definite plan in mind, and happened upon an interesting looking house. I was standing in front of Asakura Museum of Sculpture, the home of the famous sculptor, Fumio Asakura, turned into a museum at his request after his passing.

The front sign read: A sculptor's eye. I checked in my bag because they asked me to. A docent near the entrance, who wanted to practice his English, engaged me in a long conversation. I had a hard time getting away from him. And finally, when I was able to break loose, the museum was about to close, and I had to rush.

This museum is off the beaten path, and I do recommend it. You go up several staircases where you discover hidden spaces, sculptures, and tools. Fumio Asakura also held classes for his students in his house. The last climb up leads to a rooftop garden with views of what feels like the old Japan. Had the docent not pestered me, I could have easily spent an hour there, just taking in all the views, the mood, and the flavors it had to offer. More info here.

I continued with my stroll, and ran into shops that had handmade items. In the first one, there was a man with a sewing machine who made things, and sold them on his premises. I just thought that his business was different. It was disorderly, with a homey feeling. The guy working there was kind and friendly.

At the second store, I browsed around, and found a book cover which I bought. It is now covering one of my favorite books, The Portrait of a Lady by Henry James. Feeling a bit lost when I stepped outside, I asked a couple of teenagers how to get to the open market. They pointed the way, and I left.

On my way, I saw this cute kid walking by himself afterschool, and I had to take a picture of him and his Randoseru—a style of backpack all Japanese students use.

It was getting dark by the time I got to the outdoor market. There were small shops and food stalls. I bought a gift—a small change purse that looked like a turtle, sesame seed soft served ice cream, and two small sweet potatoes to take back to my hotel. The elderly lady selling the potatoes spoke only Japanese. From her hand gesture, I understood that the potatoes came in pairs. So, I bought a pair, and tried to ask her for a take away box when she wagged her index finger at me, saying "Nein." Nein means no in German. I think she was used to dealing with European customers. Anyway, I said okay, and took my potatoes on a thin sheet of paper. She gestured to me to come back, perhaps because she felt sorry for me, and decided to give me a small plastic container to carry it in.

I ran into Zakuro lamp shop by accident. They teach students how to make Turkish mosaic lamp. It was enjoyable to spend a few minutes watching the students work. If I was staying in Tokyo for a longer period, I would have liked to have participated. Below are more pix, and a tip, in case you're interested in visiting the area.

Note: If you go to Yanaka, and decide to walk aimlessly like me, and get lost, make sure that you know how to get back. Phone maps don't always work, and Japanese subways (in comparison to the straight forward ones of Hong Kong, France, and Germany), are not the easiest to figure out. My hotel was a bit far from where I was, and because Yanaka is a local, non-tourist area, Japanese Taxi drivers who pass by with empty cars do not like to give rides to foreigners. They are uncomfortable with the people who do not speak the language. And Japanese pedestrians in this area also have trust issues with foreigners. So, it's not always easy to ask someone for help. I managed to get back to my hotel using the subway, but it took a bit of an effort. 

Yanaka, Tokyo, Part I

Yanaka is a local neighborhood in Tokyo with a traditional Japanese ambience. My tour guide, Mari, introduced me to this area, and used her knowledge to give me an authentic Japanese experience. With the exception of a few Europeans, there aren't that many foreigners in the area, at least that was my experience when I visited. I talk about Yanaka in my book, The American Outsider, where Tessa and one of her activist friends, Akira, hang out. So, I will not get into too many details here.

This is a famous Himalayan cedar tree in Yanaka, planted when it was small by the original owner of Mikado bread store, about 90-100 years ago. Closed permanently, the shop is situated behind the tree. The tree was to be cut down to make room for a new development, but a neighborhood committee fought against it, and so, the tree stays with a sign on it, indicating that it is a protected tree.

There is a large cemetery in the area, and several temples. The grave markers have the name of the donors on them.

Ueno Sakuragi Atari—three traditional homes built in 1900s were renovated, and turned into businesses—Yanaka Beer Hall, Vaner Bakery, and OshiOlive.

OshiOlive sells olives, and other items, and balsamic or rice vinegar drinks served in schooners. We ordered ours here, and took them with us to the Beer Hall. Recently, a bunch of recipes popped up online, but these recipes are not as tasty as the drinks made at OshiOlive. I recommend the balsamic drink. Mari was kind enough to let me try hers. So good...

The food at Yanaka Beer Hall was yum. Our menu was in Japanese, and so, Mari ordered for us.

Mari was trying to describe the shrimp dish to me, and I thought that she was talking about the Agemochi. Ahijo is a Spanish dish—shrimp sautéed in olive oil, garlic, and red pepper—which I skipped and traded with Mari for some of the amazing tasting Konnyaku. (Apologies for the upside down video 😏).

Konnyaku (konjac jelly. It's the cubed Jelly looking dish) has zero calories, is flavorless, but with the right sauce, it tastes yum. Here is an online recipe (actually three recipes). 

Agemochi (the two round sticky things on a stick) is fried mochi with sweet and salty sauce, and nori seaweed added on top.

The servers and the kitchen staff were super nice, and allowed me to take their picture. Afterwards, we sat down on an outside bench, and had tea. I had so much fun, in fact, the entire day was incredible, and a learning experience of getting lost in time.

Kayaba Coffee is a popular place. It made it through WWII, but shut down after the owner passed away. It was renovated a few years later, keeping its traditional Japanese charm. It  serves breakfast, and lunch food, ice cream, drinks, cakes, tea, and gourmet coffee. Downstairs, there are western style tables and chairs, and upstairs you sit on the floor.

Yoshidaya liquor store (1910-1986) was turned into Shitamachi Museum Annex, across the street from Kayaba Coffee. There is no entrance fee. It has been revived to look like what one would find in a typical liquor store during the Meiji period—tatami mat, sake barrels and bottles, artifacts, and wooden doors and panels. 

Well, that's about it for now. Hope you enjoyed. Yanaka, part II, will be posted soon...