Tokyo: No Small Adventure
Updated: 23 minutes ago
This February, I received amazing news. It was my first year at Gilman so when I was notified that I I received a grant to travel and experience the art, culture, food, architecture, and beautifully steeped traditions of Japan, I was overwhelmed with gratitude. This has been a dream of mine for some time and I planned to make the most of this adventure. Thank you to Gilman and the Thalheimer family for their generosity.
After a 13-hour direct flight, we stepped out of Haneda Airport into a wall of heat: 96 degrees with a real feel of 105. My glasses fogged over so completely I couldn't see the country I'd flown 6,700 miles to visit. Within minutes of leaving baggage claim, sweat beaded across our faces. It felt less like walking outside and more like opening the door to a giant steaming dishwasher.
Welcome to Japan! 日本へようこそ
Several years ago, Quinn developed a fascination and love for the culture of Japan. We wanted to make his dream come true of visiting this place he's put on a pedestal for so long.
How do you possibly encapsulate Tokyo in a simple, efficient blog post? I’ll tell you: you don’t. There are simply too many moments, places, and little details that I want to capture for us to look back on someday. I could never get it all in. As Liam is writing his college applications right now, I realize I might need a 650-word limit too. I truly appreciate those of you who take the time to read along.
So, here we are in the land of Neon, Pop Culture, Buddhist temples, and Shinto shrines. Japan is spectacular and sublime. It is a country defined by remarkable order, politeness, and cleanliness, where centuries-old traditions coexist effortlessly with cutting-edge technology and vibrant pop culture. It's a treasure trove of delights.
As part of our trip planning, Quinn (our resident sensei) took the time to research Japanese customs and etiquette. When we travel, our goal is to be thoughtful and respectful guests, to understand the culture we are visiting, appreciate local traditions, and make an effort not to stand out. Interspersed throughout are customs and etiquette we’ve gleaned from Quinn’s research labeled, Quinn's Tips.
I don't remember much about our GO Taxi's sleek black van other than the buttery leather seats that offered at least ten times the legroom of our United Airlines flight. However, I do recall catching fleeting glimpses of Tokyo through long, slow blinks. For the next 45 minutes, we melted into our plush seats as we sleepily cruised toward Asakusa, a residential, quiet neightborhood in Tokyo's Taitō City, where we'd set up shop for the next four nights.
We arrived at a nondescript alley in 2-chōme, Kuramae, marked only by a small sign that read "SG Hotel." I don’t know that it qualifies as a hotel if there are only two apartments but hey, we’re new here. Through a glass entrance doorway, we were led down a narrow hallway where cardboard boxes and rolls of receipt tape were haphazardly "hidden" behind hanging white sheets before squeezing into a tiny elevator. Upon first glance, it did not bode well. However, the elevator carried us to the third floor, where the doors opened directly into our cozy (that’s Airbnb speak for small) apartment, named The Fuji.
I have to hand it to Japan: They know how to squeeze every last ounce of usefulness out of a square foot. The apartment itself was probably the size of the average American McMansion’s walk-in closet. The efficiency is borderline magical. It felt a little like Harry Potter’s Room of Requirement: Somehow you have exactly what you need, when you need it, perfectly placed and ready to go. I half expected to press a button on the wall and have an additional toilet slide out, murphy-bed style.
We cranked up the air conditioning, unpacked, and made a decision to stay awake until at least 9:00 p.m. To accomplish this ambitious goal, we set out in search of the most convenient of convenience store dinners. Too exhausted to do much more than walk mere minutes, we trudged to the nearest 7-Eleven (yep, they’re everywhere) for sustenance.
As I perused the store shelves, I was convinced I’d lose 10 pounds over the next two weeks simply based on the lack of recognizable food…including the letters on the packages.
I have to admit, I panicked a little on the inside. The 7-Eleven shelves were stocked with the likes of spicy cod roe, deep-fried wasabi-dusted seaweed sheets, pork katsu protein bars, shrimp mayo flavored potato chips, and little rubber bands that I now know are dried squid. My heart broke a little to see a cephalopod family reunion of saran-wrapped baby octopus skewered on a stick staring back at me. Of course, being the Americans that we are, we came away with raisin bread, waffles, cup of noodles, and yogurt. Yep, dairy products and wheat: The American staples. I felt sheepish. Clearly, this was not destined to be a bold culinary adventure. But right then, we made a pact. We were going to stretch our paletes. Right? Right.
What made this challenge even more daunting was the fact that none of us are exactly seafood enthusiasts. My Baltimore kids barely like steamed crabs, which is practically a family scandal where we’re from. So what chance did we have in Japan, a country famous for its seafood markets, sushi, and ocean-to-table cuisine? We had some work to do.
The following morning, we stocked up on "matchy-matchy" parasols to protect ourselves from the sun and the eventuality of a scattered storm and headed to Sensō-ji in Tokyo’s historic Asakusa district.
It’s the city’s oldest temple and one of Japan’s most iconic Buddhist temples. Founded in 628 CE, Sensō-ji is dedicated to Kannon, the Bodhisattva (an enlightened being) of compassion, who represents mercy and the wish to relieve the suffering of others.
Onora, however, had her own interpretation of the temple’s name. After mishearing “Sensō-ji,” she confidently declared it the “OG temple.” And honestly, she wasn’t entirely wrong. At nearly 1,400 years old, Sensō-ji has definitely earned its original gangster status among Tokyo’s temples.
During the Edo period (1603–1868), when Edo (what is now called present-day Tokyo) became the political center of Japan, Sensō-ji flourished as both an important religious destination and a lively cultural hub. Pilgrims, merchants, performers, and visitors from all walks of life gathered here, helping Asakusa become one of the most vibrant districts in Edo.
Passing through the enormous red lantern of the Kaminarimon Gate, or “Thunder Gate,” we found ourselves facing the shopping gauntlet of Nakamise Street.
This lively stretch of vendors sells snacks, souvenirs, and traditional crafts leading toward the temple grounds. Given the sad state of Liam’s bank account, it was clear his eyes were much bigger than his wallet. Nakamise Street was basically a financial obstacle course for him, with every textile stall calling to him like a siren. Every 20 steps, we’d turn around and find that we’d lost him to the inside of a stall…yet again.
Along the back wall of the Senso-Ji temple stood a hundred small wooden drawers, each marked with a number. In front of them sat a metal cylindrical container filled with numbered wooden sticks. To receive an omikuji (fortune), visitors shake the container while silently making a wish or asking for guidance. A single wooden stick slides out, revealing a number that corresponds to one of the drawers on the wall. Inside the matching drawer is a paper fortune explaining what the future may hold: good luck, bad luck, or something in between.
If the fortune is unfavorable, tradition says you can fold it and tie it to a designated rack or string, leaving the bad fortune behind so it does not follow you.
We slogged through Tokyo hot soup on the way back from Senso-ji to the cool interior of Paradise Poké for lunch. Fresh tuna or pork poké bowls paired with smoothies and lemonade. It was exactly what we needed! The meal quickly decreased our body temperatures from a rolling boil to a slow simmer.
Quinn tip:: Prior to eating or even touching your chopsticks, place your hands in prayer position, bow and say Itadakimasu (ee-tah-dah-kee-mahs)
いただきます. It means, “I humbly receive this meal.”
I woke from a power nap feeling groggy, almost drugged, and a little disappointed that we had a 6 p.m. date with Tokyo Skytree.
Quinn Tip: The best way to show you are a tourist is to jaywalk. It doesn't matter how long the light lasts or how few cars pass by. You wait until the light turns green before venturing across a street. There's something remarkable about watching millions of people follow a rule simply because it's the rule. In Japan, shared respect for community norms, structure, and expectations is part of what keeps everything running so smoothly.
As we walked along the Sumida River toward Tokyo Skytree, the tower became our north star, rarely disappearing from view despite the buildings crowding the skyline. At 634 meters tall, it's the world's third-tallest structure, behind Burj Khalifa in Dubai and Merdeka 118 in Kuala Lumpur. Its silver lattice framework rises to two bulbous observation decks at the top that would be our destination for the evening.
Though the river promises a wider view of the city skyline, it only hints at Tokyo's immense scale. In reality, the sliver of city we could see is just a fraction of the sprawling metropolis. That would become apparent shortly.
The four elevators, each artistically themed to represent a different season, shoot to the top at an ear-poppingly fast yet surprisingly smooth 600 meters per minute. Liam and Quinn spent the next 10 minutes using their prior physics knowledge (props to Mr. Kahl) to calculate how long it would take to fall from its immense height.
The elevators open onto the main Tembo observation deck with 360-degree views of a city so enormous that its scale is truly incomprehensible, even after seeing it with my own eyes.
Minutes after walking the circumference of the tower and marveling at the sheer scale of Tokyo, we noticed the sky darkening to the north. Lightening snaked jaggedly from cloud to ground, prompting oohs and ahhs from fellow visitors. What had been a relatively clear view of Tokyo vanished in seconds as clouds closed in, forming a blanket of fog that reduced visibility to zero while torrential rain beat the tower.
The rain stopped as soon as we made down the elevator and back outside, cooling the city considerably. Wait…No, it didn’t.
Here I am, a face so shiny it has become reflective, hair plastered to my head like a wet dog, and a steady trickle of water running from shoulder blades to waistband. Meanwhile, the locals stroll by straight out of a magazine in long sleeve flowing shirts smartly tucked into their fashionably belted pants. It’s as if we were standing in two entirely different climates! Is it my age?
So here’s the thing about traveling Digges-style. Some people vacation to recharge. We vacation to conduct a full-scale assault of attractions, neighborhoods, experiences, museums, and foods. We see travel as an endurance event disguised as a vacation. How many miles can we walk before our feet file a formal complaint? So, despite our tired feet and general discomfort, we decided to revisit the “OG” temple for a nighttime perspective where the softly illuminated temple stood in striking contrast to Tokyo’s modern skyline.
Even better, we happened upon a geisha inspired photo shoot. I couldn’t be happier!
By this time, finding dinner had become our top priority, and Onora’s internal clock was a ticking time bomb, inching closer to an emotional explosion. Thank you jet lag for her 4:30 am wake up. We wound our way past Hoppy Street’s open air izakayas (bars) where options were limited to pork tendon stew, butter-grilled squid tentacles, raw horse meat sashimi, and offal stew.
Thankfully, Kip and his infinite memory, recalled a Wagyu Beef restaurant near our apartment. We wiped tears from Onora’s exhausted face and sat down to dig into the comfort food we didn’t realize we needed until we absolutely did.
Morning came fast and another full day was upon us, starting with the famed Tsukiji fish market. The market stretches for blocks, a maze of tightly packed covered stalls. Some are carefully designed displays, while others are little more than a few stacked milk crates cobbled together into a makeshift shop. Either way, the displays of food were picture-worthy culinary works of art.
A sliver of hot sunlight filtered through the patchwork of awnings stretched across the alley, casting narrow ribbons of light onto the crowded passage below. Vendors called out politely, tempting you with everything from kitchen wares, handcrafted knives, vats of seaweed, salmon stuffed sea urchin, eel skewers, traditional sweets, vegetables dunked in a briny concoction, and one taxidermied polar bear?
A deep baritone voice cut through the market's constant hum, drawing customers toward the stall. As he sang, he expertly grilled king crab legs over an open flame. The shells popped and cracked as they sizzled on the grill, releasing yet another aroma into an already overwhelming olfactory smorgasbord.
We dipped our toes in and chose several items to sample:
Tanghulu - a traditional Chinese sweet made with skewered muscot and strawberries dipped in hot sugar syrup, then immediately plunged into ice water, creating a crisp, glass-like candy shell.
Pork Bao Buns - Soft, pillowy dough filled with savory, spiced minced pork
Red bean and matcha mochi - chewy rice cakes stuffed with strawberries
Eel skewers - grilled eel glazed in a sweet sauce
Three of the four were successful and I bet you can guess which one was the outlier. Liam took one bite of the eel and his face immediately twisted into a grotesque grimace, causing him to blink in panic. Miraculously, he swallowed and then promptly made an involuntary loud wretching noise that surprised even him.
Quinn Tip: If you purchase food from a vendor, it’s courteous to stand aside to eat your food. Walking while eating or drinking is frowned upon.
Next stop on our march through Tokyo: Hamarikyu Gardens. Once a private retreat and hunting ground for a feudal lord during the Edo period, it is now an oasis tucked into the heart of the Shiodome district. This expansive garden, with its open vistas framed by Tokyo’s skyscrapers, gives your eyes room to breathe and creates one of the city’s most striking contrasts between old and new.
Unlike traditional gardens built around freshwater ponds, Hamarikyu’s tidal pond connects directly to Tokyo Bay, with seawater flowing in and out with the tides. At its center sits Nakajima-no-Ochaya, a traditional teahouse perched on a small island where visitors have enjoyed matcha and seasonal sweets for centuries. Of course, we had to sample some ourselves and enjoy the air conditioning too.
We stepped into the teahouse through the whoosh of the sliding doors. We removed our shoes and placed them in wooden lockers secured with a simple lock-and-key mechanism that was both ingenious and oddly satisfying. A flat wooden key, carved with three unique grooves, slid into a metal lock with a distinct click. It was such a small detail, but such a perfect example of Japanese design: functional, elegant, and thoughtfully crafted. Four days later, Quinn is still talking about those lockers.
Quinn Tip: Be sure to take off your shoes when entering homes, temples, or teahouses.
Floor to ceiling windows framed by rich wood give you a beautiful view out to the pond and park beyond. As quiet as it was within the park, it was still quieter inside the teahouse. Families and couples sat reflectively on long red strips of fabric laid atop of tatami mats, sipping matcha tea while taking in the view. We ordered several types of wagashi, a traditional Japanese confection typically served with tea and known for their delicate plant based flavors, seasonal themes, and artistic presentation.
Quinn Tip: Talk softly. In a city of nearly 14 million people, you might expect the noise level to be overwhelming. However, keeping your voice low is considered common courtesy, even in crowded spaces. Frankly, the quiet can feel almost strange at first, even alarming. But, it’s a refreshing reminder that a city can be enormous without being chaotic or jarring.
As Quinn once said, “I need more boats in my life.” Well, we are here to deliver! As we were planning this adventure, we knew we needed to get across Tokyo Bay to see Team Lab Planets but couldn’t figure out the most efficient mode of transportation. That’s when Tokyo Water Taxi came up on my internet search. We pulled up to Hinode Pier and boarded a yellow taxi boat for a direct, as the crow flies, shot to Team Lab Planets immersive art museum. We met our friendly captain who escorted us across in style, even being gracious enough to suggest a pause in the action to take a family photo in front of Rainbow Bridge.
After disembarking, we made a quick pit stop for an udon noodle lunch at Toyosu Senkyaku Banrai’s food court designed to look like an old Tokyo street before heading to Team Lab Planets.
No one really knew what to expect from this next Tokyo attraction. In fact, when, days before, Kip and I tried to explain what we were about to see, we found ourselves a little lost for words to describe something we didn’t understand ourselves. However, after our visit, we discussed our experience as a group and cobbled together a definition. Here it is: An open ended, interactive, multi-sensorial art museum experience attempting to diversify the way in which people perceive and absorb the things around them.
Let me tell you, this place will blow your mind. Divided into 3 sections, Forest, Water, and Garden, it takes ‘art museum’ to another level. Spend time in an unnaturally colored psychedelic forest floor ‘catching’ animals (zebras, rhinos, elephants) with equally unnatural colors. Hot pinks and limes, blue morpho hues, and purples from ceiling to floor.
Leap frog through a maze of stepping ‘stones’ made from short and pliable pillars creating the illusion that you’re crossing a river in a mushroom induced hallucination.
Enter a greenhouse with dozens of oversized reflective silver potato shapes. Green grass provides a mossy backdrop while mist cascades around you. Give them a gentle push and they ‘weeble wobble but don’t fall down.’
Step into a mirrored room where long strings of vined flowers attached to the ceiling slowly descend and ascend on a sensor as you move throughout the room. Crouch and the flowers descend almost to the floor. Stand and they retract as you move through the space.
In this mirrored environment, it’s hard to get a sense of scale or your bearings, giving a sense of the infinite.
For the water section, you are blessedly required to remove your socks and shoes before stepping into a dimly lit hallway. You’ll enter a dark room where you moon-step across a floor made from a pillowy soft and a surprisingly deep waterbed, covered in a black galaxy fabric. As you try and balance while wading through “water,” the sensorial shock is the feel of moving through water without getting wet.
Down a hallway, the sound of a rushing waterfall grows louder as you make your way forward, the cold water ever inching upward on your bare legs.
Beyond the doorway, you'll stand, calf-deep in a dark, mirrored room where shimmering projections of koi fish and slowly shifting ribbons of color drift across the water and reflective walls, creating an immersive, infinite and, ever-changing environment.
Drying our feet, we continued forward into yet another mirrored space. Fittingly, all of this was reminding me of the famous Japanese artist, Yayoi Kusama’s installations. Instantly, the boundaries of the room dissolved as we wound through floor-to-ceiling mirrors enveloped by millions of cascading string lights hung from above somewhere. They exploded in waves of brilliant colors; bright whites, lavenders and then unexpectedly vanished, plunging the entire exhibit into absolute blackness and leaving us momentarily suspended in the dark.
We ended the exhibit in what felt like a giant bubble bath. The room was filled with enormous, soft, inflatable spheres that drifted and bounced with every movement. They gently nudged us from all sides, sometimes trapping us between several at once, creating the uncanny, and delightfully disorienting sensation that we had been shrunk down and dropped into a bathtub full of oversized bubbles.
We emerged from our entire experience, disoriented and blinking in the sunlight, the reality of our world suddenly looking a bit underwhelming and a lot less colorful.
By the time we made it back to our apartment, our feet had logged enough miles for one day. We picked up takeout, sank into the couch, and let Tokyo buzz on without us for the evening. Rested and refueled, we'd be ready to dive back into the city's fashion, cafés, and neon glow of Shibuya and Shinjuku the following morning.
As it so happened, Saturday was the perfect time to venture into Tokyo's fashion capital. It's where everyone, and I mean everyone, goes to see and be seen.
We stepped out of the taxi at Shibuya's famed Scramble Crossing. At least 500,000 people cross this intersection each day, and from a distance, the view creates the illusion of disembodied heads floating on an undulating sea.
Quinn tip: Inside of a taxi, speak only if a driver seems intersted in speaking to you. If a driver is quiet, let them be quiet. If they are interested in chatting, chat back! A simple thank you, 'Arigatou gozaimasu' is appreciated as you exit.
As we prepared to cross the intersection, I imagined the open-field battles of centuries past, with opposing armies gathering on either side of a vast expanse. The white stripes of the crosswalk became our battlefield, its soldiers armed with parasols rather than bayonets.
The light turned green, and the opposing forces surged toward one another, bracing for impact. We finally collided, shoulder to shoulder, weaving in and out of the mob of bodies until each of us emerged on the other side, unscathed and ready to live another day.
For my fashion "forward-ing" young teens, who now seem to enjoy shopping for clothes as much as they used to enjoy shopping for toys, Shibuya 109 is a fashion mecca in Tokyo. A towering silver cylindrical 8 story mall chock-full of the latest trendy wear. It mattered little to them that there was only a smattering of styles for men.
There was certainly enough to look at! Teens, seemingly fresh from the runway, strutted the mall in plaid pleated minis, knee high socks, platform shoes, pig tails, and sailor-collar blouses. Others rocked wide legged baggy black jeans adorned with chains and buckles paired with cropped strapless corsets belted at the chest. The combinations were endless and no matter the style, they were absolutely stylish and they knew it!
Up the street, and to an equally impressively sized Tower(ing) Records, where we heard rumors that an entire floor was dedicated to K-pop.
Quinn, found K-pop in 7th grade and has immersed himself completely. Bands like Stray Kids, Ateez, BLACKPINK and their solo spin-offs have become a staple in our house. Merch, CDs, and vinyls were all on display, making it feel like a pilgrimage site for K-pop fans.
Japan has an undeniable obsession with cuteness, and it shows in an incredible variety of ways. Whether it’s the Gachapon vending machines you find everywhere, dispensing everything from cute animal and anime character figures to tiny, realistic food models and strange novelty objects, Japan has a fierce affinity for the collectible, especially when it comes in small, cute forms.
So, niche animal cafés are about at cute as it gets. Name a small(ish) animal, and there's probably a café dedicated to it: owls, otters, hedgehogs, rabbits, micropigs, even capybaras. Like moths to a flame, we were drawn into the cozy interior of Café MoCHA, where we spent a relaxing afternoon with fifteen or so rambunctious cats, laughing at their antics.
If I were a cat, this place would be heaven: A clean, quiet bookstore atmosphere with cozy perches to nap on, an endless stream of people eager to cuddle, and treats galore. No wonder the cats here were a bit "husky."
After our fill of cats (okay, that sounded like we ate them), lunch was an authentic affair at Shibuya Yokocho. A long row of tunnel-like restaurants made me think of the anime series Arcane with its grungy cultural undercity full of unexpected upcycling surprises.
Inside, seats were fashioned from a hodgepodge of beer crates and fruit containers, topped with felted cushions. Warm, glowing lanterns, blinking lights, and neon signs lined the long corridor, creating the overstimulating sensation of being trapped inside an arcade game.
And somehow, all of this was tucked beneath the modern café-culture mecca of the Miyashita Park complex.
Just above us, the Miyashita Park complex rises as an enormous modern shopping and cultural center, crowned with a lush green rooftop overlooking the city. Across its four stories, open-air spaces blend exposed ductwork, raw wood, and corrugated metal with sleek cafés, high-end shops, art galleries, and an eclectic mix of mostly Japanese cuisine, including raw horse sashimi...again. Still not trying that, despite our adventure pact.
It's an uber designed urban playground and a place where people come to write in cafés, browse galleries, shop, eat, and relax in the park above it all, right in the middle of downtown Tokyo.
It wouldn't be Japan if we didn't attempt the subway system, would it? Just as an afternoon shower rolled in, we arrived at Shibuya Station on the JR East Line, bound for the neon lights of Shinjuku. Descending into the bowels of Tokyo's sprawling underworld, we found ourselves standing before the ticket kiosks amid what looked like the Tokyo equivalent of the New York Stock Exchange.
Hundreds of commuters streamed in every direction with unwavering purpose, electronic signs flickered overhead, ticket machines chimed incessantly, and trains arrived and departed with astonishing precision. Somehow, everyone seemed to know exactly where they were going...except us. Thankfully, we had help in the form of a JR East ticketing angel. In a flurry, he pushed buttons with such speed and precision it could have been an Olympic sport. Within seconds, the machine spit out six shiny, new tickets and he sent us on our way. We squeezed into the subway car, grateful that someone far more competent than us had come to our rescue.
Just when we were convinced there wasn't room for a single additional passenger, another wave of commuters poured in. Somehow, they compressed themselves into the tiniest slivers of remaining space, flattening together like pieces of a puzzle until the impossible somehow became possible. Quinn, held tight to the grab handle and then and shrugged, relinquishing his grip and quipped,"It's so tightly packed in here, I couldn't possibly fall."
We walked out into Shinjuku at night, thought you'd never know what time of day it was. Shinjuku is like Times Square on mega-steroids. It stretches for street after street, creating an endless sea of towering buildings, 3-D billboards, and lights that have had their saturation cranked to the max setting. Craning our necks to the sky, we marveled, slightly overwhelmed, at the idea that humans created something so ostentatiously beautiful. Yet just a short walk away, you might find yourself wandering a quiet side street, lit only by red lanterns promising fresh sushi. That contrast between dazzling excess and understated charm and powerful cultural depth is what makes Japan so unforgettable.
So, we had to ask Quinn: Upon first impression, has Japan lived up to the hype? In his uber thoughtful way, the answer? "Absolutely. Nowhere is ever exactly what you expect, but it's everything I had hoped for. It's cultural, modern, clean, and friendly and has an amazing culture that is amplfied by the modernity, not erased by it." I am afraid we will lose him to the other side of the world at some point.
Our next stop is Hakuba, an hour west of Nagano where the winter Olympics were held in 1998. We will take Japan's bullet train (the Shinkansen) to the Japanese Alps for a little cooler weather and a slower pace of life.
Thanks for reading!! XO The Digges
You, my friend, are quite the travel writer! I love your adventures, and this one is shaping up to be incredible from start to finish!
Sarah
What an incredible experience !! You brought to life the sights, sounds and smells of the iconic sites! Loved Quinn's tips! Thanks for sharing!
Wonderfully overwhelming! The beauty, the colors, the sense of simple and organized but crowded and silent. It a big mix of things that clash…perfectly!
Thanks for the detailed and beautiful travel blog. I feel like I have been to Japan! The immersive art museum is a world-class experience...wow!
😃
This is amazing! I love all the Quinn tips and perspectives. I can hear his voice stating them. Love it! You balance beauty, culture, human struggles such as heat and exhaustion, with optimism, respect and growth in both learning and self. Keep it coming sister!
Love, Brittany