Let's say you're a nice Japanese lady who is about to embark on a trip to the U.S., but you don't know any practical English, nothing that could save you should you be mugged by a bizarre-bandana-wearing man with a knife. Never fear. The Zuiikin Girls will help you with their aerobics and catchy chants!

Now tell me you're not going to be chanting anti-mugger messages all day.

This show apparently originally aired in the early '90s and just enjoyed a short revival on Japanese TV. Thanks to the magic of YouTube, you can now enjoy many Zuiikin English episodes whenever you want.

So you know about the five elements and the five senses. And maybe you've heard of the five colors in Japanese cuisine. Perhaps you're even familiar with Buddhism's five states of enlightenment. But have you heard about the Pocky Five Fruits and Black Five? No?

...That's okay. Neither had I until two nights ago at Family Mart.

I became an instant fan of the Black Five (Kurogo). Not only does its name sound like an ultra-cool group of hitmen and/or spies -- whereas "The Five Fruits" is more like a fourth-grade talent show dance troupe -- its nutty flavor is almost exactly like my favorite Pocky ever: Black Sesame (Kurogoma). Which makes sense, since kurogoma is a member of the Black Five. The lineup also includes the Japanese favorites kuromame (black soybean) and kurogome (black rice), as well as the lesser-known kuromatsunomi (black pine nut) and kurokarin (black quince). (I hope you've figured out the Japanese word for "black" by now.) But I'll be honest -- I only really taste the black sesame flavor. Which is fine by me.

Similarly, though the Five Fruits (Goka) includes chestnut, apricot, plum, peach and jujube, I only taste the momo, peach. Although I actually have no idea what a jujube tastes like, so maybe the Five Fruits reeks of jujube, who knows?

This new Pocky marks the end of summer, I think. Gone are the Pocky Pine Cream and Coconut days; it's time to start thinking about quince and chestnuts. Life in Japan is all about the subtle markers of seasonal change. Some people watch the ripening rice or the changing leaves. I watch the Pocky.

The super-cool Cirilia and I first bonded over our shared bang-growing woes and decided to have an under-the table (i.e., non-Gimme-Your-Stuff) swap between internet friends. Since she works at WEBS, the gigantic yarn store in Massachusetts, I requested a knitting project in exchange for Japanese craft goodies. She sent two kinds of yarn, some patterns, amazingly cute stitch markers and point protectors (see those little socks?) and a bunch of extra treats. Not pictured are the CRAZY GOOD Jolly Ranchers flavored with chili (mango, lime and tamarind), which were happily and speedily consumed during a road trip I took with fellow Mexican-food-craving friends from Arizona and Texas. Delicioso/oishikata/yum!

So after making the I Collect Fruit totebag for my sister, I decided I was in dire need of my own dark blue, food-themed bag. Thus, the Taiyaki Tabetai totebag was born.

"Taiyaki tabetai!" means "I want to eat taiyaki!" which is pretty much how I feel most of the time. Taiyaki are fish-shaped pancakes stuffed with sweet bean jam, most commonly eaten at festivals. They are kind of like the funnel cakes of the Japanese food world. But better! Think of all the protein!

I debated whether or not I should use Japanese characters or write the Japanese words in Roman letters, but embroidering the foreign characters won out. I mean, I might as well take advantage of the fact that I can write in what amounts to a secret code for most people. Who WOULDN'T choose the secret code? As I was embroidering, I had absolutely no idea if the finished bag would be legible, but -- as I write Japanese with the careful neatness of an eight-year-old -- it ended up being fine.

And yeah, the little tai applique is not sporting a bloody back wound; he's just leaking bean jam. Sweet sweet bean jam....

Mont Blancs (or monburan) are impossible to avoid in Japan if you are one of those people who spends lots of time peering into pastry shops or wandering through bakeries. (I freely admit I am one of those people.) Apparently, in France the dessert is a meringue base topped with chestnut puree and cream. Here, it is a shortbread base with loopy rings of chestnut puree surrounding a creamy middle, usually topped with a big chestnut that looks as shiny and plump as a cartoon dog nose. (A peek here will give you an idea.) Mont Blancs are okay, but I'd rather have a Beard Papa cream puff, thanks.

Lucky for the Mont Blanc Mocha Takenoko no Sato candy, the geniuses at Meiji decided to make the cookie base coffee-flavored. The bitterness of the cookie cuts through the sweet milkiness of the chocolate perfectly. It's like a dessert-plus-coffee set at one of those pastry shops I'm always peering into. Earlier in the week, as I sat on my couch knitting, rain falling outside, this candy was the perfect thing to munch on while pretending it was already autumn. Unfortunately, my fake autumn was short-lived and today's heat has reduced the chocolate tops to mush.

So please wait for the real autumn before eating these. Unless you're too busy eating actual chestnuts. But you probably won't be, unless you're one of those stick-wielding old Japanese ladies who comb the ground under chestnut trees until every. last. chestnut. is gone. But you're probably not one of them. They're usually too busy foraging to get on the internet.

When I opened up my swap package from Malin in Sweden, I had a smile as big as I imagine Moomintroll would be in real life. (And that's big.) That's because everything in the envelope was fantastic, from the book about recrafting old wool sweaters, to the colorful fabrics and everything in between, most especially the handmade Moomin crafts!

All of it, especially the cool-looking map of Stockholm, makes me want to visit Sweden sometime soon. Is everyone there as fashionable as the girls in the sweater-crafts book and as cheerful as Malin? Maybe not, but even if they're only half as fashionable and cheerful, I'd still be happy.

Needle case and pincushion. How do you say "kawaii" in Swedish?

One night this week, autumn arrived, and this time I think it's for good. The days are cool, the air is crisp and I'm already thinking about all the pairs of cute tights, knee socks and leg warmers I'm going to buy this year while I still have the chance.

When classes started up again in August, I asked one of my classes what words they think of when they hear "summer." The most common: fireworks, yukata, BBQ, watermelon, wind bells, fans and shaved ice. And even though many of those things are part of summer in the U.S. too, there seems to be something particularly and pleasingly Japanese about this list.

I'm happy, then, that my last weekend before the weather turned unrelentingly autumnal was spent next to the blue waters of the Neo River, eating BBQ and river-chilled watermelon and lighting fireworks until the lighter ran out of fluid and it was time to leave. (Attempts to run a heated car cigarette lighter across the parking lot in order to ignite the remaining fireworks proved useless.)

I can't describe to you in words why eating a watermelon in Japan is different from eating one in California or why I will always have a crinkly feeling of nostalgia when I think about lighting sparklers on a dark night with a group of friends, but there you are. Today I got an email from a very nice reader (hi, Linda!) who spent six months in Japan and says she sometimes wants to scream at me through the computer, "You will miss it!" But she doesn't have to worry; I already know it. And in some ways, I already do.

Back in February, I told you about the dark chocolate diet fad that was sweeping Japan, a genius eating plan that involves consuming 50 grams of dark chocolate every day as a way to lose weight. Since then, dark (or bitaa, bitter) chocolate has spread like a shadowy plague over the candy aisle. I mean this literally, as the packaging for all this dark chocolate is invariably black or brown, making for very monochromatic supermarket shelves.

But this isn't one of those disastrous shadowy plagues. Nothing leading to the mass-marketing of KitKat Bitter could be considered a disaster -- unless you happen to be on a non-dark chocolate diet. Then it would be very bad indeed.

Because this candy is GOOD. I-could-eat-this-every-day-and-maybe-twice-on-Sunday good. Here are my feelings on limited edition KitKats, since I'm sure you're dying to know: they're generally overrated. I've tasted KitKats flavored like sakura, uji-kintoki, fruit parfait, azuki and wine. In my opinion, none tasted better than KitKat the Original, a very good candy indeed. Basically, I'm not a fan of fake-chocolate coating, no matter how exotically flavored.

But sometimes the milk-chocolatiness of plain KitKats can be a bit cloying. This is where KitKat Bitter glides in, sleek in its deep brown box and sporting "high grade cacaomass," not to mention 139mg of polyphenols. You won't contemplate buying a whole store-display's-worth of these for health reasons, though, believe me. The perfect balance of bitter and sweet, this is a KitKat worthy of all the KitKat hype.

And the best news? This isn't a limited edition candy, at least not in bitter-chocolate-obsessed Japan.

Soon after Mariko and I decided to have a t-shirt swap, I realized I already have way to many t-shirts and not enough cute bottoms to wear them with. Having seen and envied the seemingly billions of Japanese-pattern skirts Mariko has made, I asked if she's be willing to make me a skirt in exchange for some t-shirts. This skirt, to be exact. Happily, she said yes, and last week her package arrived, containing my new and amazing skirt.

You may notice I am wearing jeans in the photo. (You also may notice that my room is messy. Please don't.) That's because Mariko and I initiated this very summery swap at the tail-end of summer, so we didn't actually get each other's packages until after the weather had cooled down. Boo. Luckily, I picked a fabric that is perfect for autumn and I live in a place where is is perfectly appropriate and fashionable to wear pants and skirts together. Not to mention a place with a large array of tights and legwarmers available. What I'm saying is: this skirt is perfect for fall! I will wear it happily until at least December.

Also included in the package were a vast array of American treats, not all of which are pictured here because I polished them off while watching X-Men 3 at my local movie theater. If there's anything better than sour Mike & Ikes at the movies, I'd like to know about it.

But the most thoughtful part of the package was this pair of earrings she made for me, which are supposed to look like Cubyrop! They match the skirt and do look very edible, I think. Hooray!

You can see what I sent Mariko here. And while you're at it, check out Mariko and Kelly's cute-Japanese-craft-supplies shop, Superbuzzy!

On Saturday, I finally attended a paper-doll-making class taught by the skilled and extremely kind Chisako, a certified doll-making teacher who lives about an hour away from me. Nearly everyone I know has taken one of her classes and every doll they've ever shown me has looked incredible, so I was excited about the class.

I'm fairly certain this type of doll is called anesama ningyo (big sister dolls), but Wikipedia is not giving me a lot of history on them. Chisako called this the "temari doll" because she is holding a paper replica of a temari, an elaborately thread-wrapped ball used as a toy in olden times.

We got to pick the paper for the kimono and obi and I went for an autumn theme. I haven't done paper crafts in quite awhile, but I think all my sewing and knitting came in handy; I seemed slightly less terrified than everyone else in class about messing the whole thing up. Chisako seemed completely unconcerned about that possibility and the whole process was almost easy. Looking back, I realize it is because she took over the more complicated steps, but since she was always explaining what she was doing, it never felt like she was doing it for us.

The coolest technique was making the hair. We started with a plain, flat piece of black paper and -- through a series of scrunchings with various implements -- transformed it into something soft and striated that looks more like real hair. I keep staring at it, maybe because I wish my hair could do what her hair is doing.

Chisako has a class nearly every month, so I'll definitely be going again. I want to get to the advanced level soon!

No candy review this week, as today is the day Captain T. arrives in Japan and I am far too excited to eat candy or much of anything, really. (Here are some things you might not know about him, in case you forgot.)

Instead, I am going to let you be the judge of some Japanese candy. By that, I mean I am having the First Ever Giant Jeans Parlor Japanese Candy Friday Candy Giveaway (FEGJPJCFCG for short). And by that, I mean that I am giving you all the chance to receive a free package of three types of Japanese candy, delivered to your doorstep! All you have to do is leave a comment on this post with your email address (only I will see it), telling me your favorite Japanese Candy Friday candy so far.

All the reviews can be found here and you have until noon on Friday, September 29 to comment. (That's Japan time, by the way. In California, it would be...8pm on Thursday, September 28. I'll leave you to figure out your own time, as time differences make my head hurt.) I will cover postage to anywhere in the world, so this is open to everyone.

Once the deadline passes, I'll do a random drawing and announce the winner in that day's JCF review. If you win, you may specify what types of candy you'd like to receive, but I reserve the right to substitute whatever looks interesting to me. And you can reserve the right to refuse all marine-creature-flavored candy. I wouldn't blame you.

And if you don't win, don't worry. I'm planning on more GJPJCFCGs in the future!

Before we begin this week's review, there is some business to take care of.

First, the winner of the First Ever Giant Jeans Parlor Japanese Candy Friday Candy Giveaway is...Sabra (a.k.a. Chocovore)! She will soon be receiving a package of three types of Japanese candy to eat and ponder at her leisure (not necessarily in that order). Thanks to everyone who left a comment and look for more candy giveaways in the future!

Second, this week's Japanese Candy Friday was written by a special guest reviewer. Enjoy!

JAPANESE CANDY FRIDAY: Capt. Tenderheart Edition

First of all, it is an honor to be the first official guest Japanese Candy Reviewer. I can only hope that I come even a little bit close to continuing the great tradition started by Anjali, who is my girlfriend and is cute and smart and cute and awesome.

Apollo. Greek god of the sun and music. Top notch pilot in Battlestar Galactica. And most importantly, a fine Japanese candy.

However, I might be a bit biased. As a tiny tot growing up in the harsh wilderness of coastal Massachusetts, I automatically assumed that anything pink was delicious. And not to toot my own horn, but many times I was right. Frankenberry cereal… Strawberry Pudding Pops… Pink Starbursts… Ham. All correct assessments.

Sometimes I was wrong, though. Like the time I got pneumonia, yet did somersaults of joy when I was prescribed a bottle of creamy, pink, antibiotic fluid, fluid that turned out to be the worst tasting liquid on the face of the earth. (The type of thing that when you first swallow it, you say, “Huh. Did I just die? Is that the taste of death?” Kinda like when you drink Jagermeister…) And why I thought a bottle of pneumonia medicine would be delicious is beyond me. At that point, the pneumonia must have already reached my brain.

It’s worth noting that some people would say my predilection for pink foods makes me secretly gay. Smarter people would say that I just like strawberry.

Anyway, my pink bias kicked into full effect when I gazed upon the box for Apollo. It went into overdrive when I discovered that the box opened via a tiny door in the front. Upon opening the door, I discovered an entire family of individually wrapped candies welcoming me into their home, inviting me to devour them. Which I promptly did.

There are two different types of Apollo. Both are tiny Reese’s cup shaped discs of chocolate topped with strawberry cream. However, one variation has tiny, Nestle crunch-inspired bits in it. I found myself alternating between the two, but you may be the type to blow through one kind to get to the other. That way’s cool too, if you want to be wrong.

Bottom line, Apollo is creamy. And delicious! Why it’s called “Apollo” is still a little bit beyond me. Maybe, after pursuing one of the many nymphs he was infatuated with until they eventually committed suicide, Apollo turned towards Mt. Olympus and bellowed at Zeus, “Father! These nymphs keep killing themselves by diving into springs and turning into laurel trees and shit! Make them remember me! Let it be that I am forever associated with tiny, conical fruity chocolate things in Japan! Cause that just really screams, ‘ME’!!”

But I think, the most important thing to learn from the Apollo candy is that It continues to add more credence to my theory that pink things (with the notable exception of antibiotics) are inherently delicious. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go try some of this mouth-watering “Pep-to Bis-mol”.

Captain Tenderheart, who typically answers to the name "Rob," spends his days playing video games for money and his nights being funny for free (but hopefully not for long). He likes black raspberry ice cream, nerdery and making mix CDs with a commitment to excellence. If you like his writing, please visit his blog and hound him about updating it more often.

Engaged in important research at a toy store in Tokyo.