foreign travel

In the last month, there have been two instances of foreign travel: one was my parents coming to me, the other was my trip to Korea.

Part of the fun of having people visit you somewhere foreign is remembering what it was like when you hit the ground, reflecting on how far you've come in terms of what it takes to conduct your life. Remembering what stuff looked like when you first saw it, even the things that have become commonplace since then. Remembering what it was like to have never ridden a Japanese train, never have browsed a combini, never have switched shoes three times in ten minutes. Normal things. For you, now.

Going to Korea had much the same effect. Effective illiteracy, total failure to pronounce even "thank you," and inability to remember "excuse me." Complete lack of knowledge on how to buy a subway ticket.

I had shared this link earlier, and so now I can claim a very limited and slow competency in puzzling out some place names written in the Korean writing system, Hangul.

But anyway, it was kind of interesting to be on one end of that hosting experience in the beginning of the month, and at the other in the end.

Mostly, though, the two trips were a little about the place, and mostly about the people. My parents are pretty game for stuff, but their interests don't necessarily lie in Japan or Japanese stuff specifically.

Same goes for Korea; I didn't really have all that much interest in Korea previous to going there. I hate admitting that, but it's just true! I don't really like spicy food, so the reasons for going drop to almost nothing right there (according to the Japanese, who are ALL FOODIES). Other reasons that lots of people go are because there is good shopping for cheap. But lately I'm in the business of getting rid of junk, not collecting MORE, even if it is cheaper there than here. Finally, I know so little (and this is pretty sad actually) about Korean history and culture, I have no compulsion to visit famous landmarks or stuff like that.

Still, have foothold, will travel, as it were. My being in Japan was one thing, but my being here for three years is even more of a thing, and I think that spending that kind of time in a place will naturally cause it to seep into you in a lot of ways. I won't be the same when I get back, that's just the nature of the beast. But in order to understand the new beast, it can be instructive to take a taste of the soil whence it grew. So the new  Emily isn't Japanese, but she did some time there, so... Also, I like sharing the stuff I think is cool or beautiful or special, and there is a lot (LOT, too much for any given visit.. too much for three years) of that here.. and I am gratified to think my parents want to have it shared at them.

I shouldn't be surprised that my parents are troopers and game for almost anything. I don't know.. I think I've spent too much time lately meeting other people's parents or hearing about their plans with them; it's sort of made me believe that parents are a certain way, they can't help it, they're just older, richer, and more experienced at shit than us kids... while traveling with people my own age is more gritty, silly, and catch-as-catch can, by the seat of one's pants as it were.

But there is a saying in Japanese, that the frog's child is a frog. Meaning, the apple doesn't fall too far. Meaning, of course, that other people's parents and my parents are different things, and while other people's parents may be particular about such-and-such, it doesn't mean mine will be. And that, in fact, a fair predictor of what kind of things the will like is actually what I already do like.

Seriously: combini beer in the park is how we DO in Japan.

It doesn't hurt of course that they wanted to have dinner, beer, and karaoke with my friends. I think they won over the Shisoshians forever (or until such time as all the current Shisoshians are replaced). People showered them with gifts (and they, intelligently enough and I don't even know if I suggested they do this, brought gifts to give out as well). What I feared would be an overly traditional ritualistic respect dinner with the kempo people turned out to be the biggest "houseparty" fun fest of all. They tried things, they drank the sake, they watched and learned and it all dazzled me because there are some things I'm kinda proud of being able to do, and watching them reminds me that I come by those things honestly.

These are the light/heavy rocks -  if they feel heavy, your goal will be difficult to accomplish.

Among the lucky, you are the chosen one. It's a fortune cookie that my dad got once. But I feel it goes for me, too. The more people I meet, the more I realize that what I believe as a young child (that everyone has the same kind of life as me) just isn't so. That some people are born into a lucky situation, with parents that teach them to be good, that are proud of their achievements but love them with or without them, and make sure they know. I'm not fearless, but when my parents call me fearless, I really do start to think I can do anything.

Like just go to a different foreign country every time there is a break in the work schedule? Well yeah, like that. Korea, though, was mostly about chilling out and visiting Erin, seeing Korea more through her eyes than as a tourist. I didn't even go to Seoul, but rather spent most of my time in GwangJu, with a little side trip to Busan that I am calling "the extra day," because I got it by changing my boat reservation to Sunday morning rather than Saturday late-morning.

Ever-present water bottle, and the hike begins.

In GwangJu I had a bunch of marvelous experiences that were part Erin and part Korea.. stuff I might have done something like if I had been alone and had done my own research, maybe. On my first day, we climbed up a hiking trail mountain to a temple she liked to visit, stopping also at a small art museum on the hillside. We ate at a vegetarian buffet until we couldn't move, then walked all the way back to her place. Other days, we drank coffee on the roof (which she brewed with cinnamon), or fresh juice (fresh meaning it was a carrot and some oranges a second ago..), baked banana bread and made pasta (SHE did these things, I consumed them). We drank makkoli, watched Wizard People Dear Reader, and Game of Thrones. I visited her school to meet her bosses and her students (all of whom speak way, way better English than mine... oh Japan and your language teaching systems). I met her friends. We talked about all the things. You know; the friend visit.

FRESH JUICE. And coffee too.

We went to a jimjilbang, which is like an onsen but so not like an onsen. For one thing, despite the jokes to the contrary, I have never been touched in an onsen by anyone. In the jimjilbang, after we'd excercised a bit on the top floor and let one of those crazy belts you see old women using in movies rub our waists and butts, we went down to wash and soak in the various pools. It's even more a Roman bath than the onsen because there were pools of hot, cold, and tepid water, including a few different hot ones with different minerals (maybe iron?) in them. The tepid one had exercise equipment, and jets for the back and shoulders. After a few hot and cold dips, it was time for my.. what? Mini massage?

She started by removing what I was wearing. Yes, I was naked: she took off the first layer of skin. Just the dead stuff of course-- it felt really nice to be scrubbed so thoroughly, the only gross part being when I opened my eyes and saw where the dead skin had sort of... well, never mind that, just I saw and it was gross. After dumping water on me, she soaped me down, then oiled me up then womanhandled me as I have never been womanhandled. She wrestled with the knots in my back and shoulders in such a way that it was excruciating but good, like brutal massages can be. When it was all over, I felt as pink and pummeled as ... I wanna say a newborn, but I was newer and cleaner and more relaxed than that.

On the extra day, we hit the beach and spent the night in a minbak, which is mostly a room with blankets for you to use to lie on, and an attached bathroom and semikitchen. The beach was gorgeous under the full moon that night, and four of us even managed to hit a noraebang, or karaoke room, before the end. Before all that, between day beaching and night beaching, we visited a seaside temple that was super awesome for being right on the coast.

Minbak near the beach.

Temple by the sea (Yonggungsa).

Mostly, though, I can see that little changes inspired by my time there, and by my friend there, are going to leak over into my life as they are wont to do. And I think that is the other reason we travel abroad, to get that perspective, to try that new thing, whether it sticks or not, whether it is actually from that foreign place, or just based on what we ourselves found there.

Ichijo-ji, Temple 26

Well, the first day of spring was sunny and only a little chilly, so I took to the road, with a brief stop to gather a traveling companion, and we set out for Ichijo-ji, the 26th temple of the Saigoku Kannon Pilgrimage.

I had forgotten everything I knew about pilgriming in the hiatus known as winter, so I missed out on a few of the offerings scattered around the temple grounds, and didn't conduct myself quite as protocol would have me do.

However, it was a pleasant day, and the things we did see were lovely, so I'll go over it nonetheless.

Ichijo-ji was situated in what felt like the middle of nowhere. It was possibly the first temple I have driven to on the pilgrimage, as the others have all been part of a larger trip or excursion (and even Engyo-ji, the closest one to my house, I biked to from Himeji station!). So we started from the parking lot, rather than the front gate, and that threw me off a bit.

The parking lot is right next to the Jizo-do, or the part of the temple dedicated to Jizo, who is the helper of babies who do not survive pregnancy. This Jizo-do was larger than ones I have seen at the other temples I've visited, and a little less austere as well. The one at Engyo-ji is rows and rows of little statues, all outfitted with knitted things or other accouterments, but these areas were full not only of statues with bibs and collars and knit things, but also toys, a few clothing items for babies, pinwheels, and other such dedications. There were three hexagonal sections like this.



From there, we wandered up the hill behind an Important Rock to what we realized was the Miko Daimyojin, the shinto (not Buddhist) area of the place. I found the Inari area, but did not see the statue or "Welcome Home" sign as described in the website. This side was very pretty in the dappled sunlight, and felt very peaceful, nature-y.

After that, we took a sort of side/back path that led us to the area where is found the Benten-Do. I totally wanted to put a coin in there and give a nod to a water deity of eloquence. I would be worried about it if I didn't think (currently) nah, it's cool, we hang out all the time so no big.

We continued on a back path that ran uphill parallel to the main temple (which was to the left). We found the path to the Okunoin roped off with a big sign in all kanji. Mir deftly convinced me that it was worth ignoring, and so I followed her up the slope toward the small founder's temple.

The reason for the sign was quite clear even from the path below. The whole area had been washed out, probably this past fall with all the rain in the Kansai area, and a landslide had washed a bunch of mud and rocks down around the Okunoin. I took some pictures of the sides of it, where you can see the mud marks. They have cleared around the small temple itself, but the path leading up to it is still in disarray, and the upper part of the mountain whence came the mud and rocks is pretty obvious.

From there we wound our way around to the main hall of the temple, from the back, where I failed to look up at the rafters and also was kind of plebian when I went to get my book stamped and calligraphed. We looked out over the Sanjuto and sighed with gladness that spring is finally coming, then made our way down to the front gate to head out. Ichijo-ji does not have a gate in the same way as other temples, but there was a not-blooming cherry by the entrance.

A badass old tree. 

Not my best exploration endeavor, but I'll do better next time now that I remember how it's done.

Plum Wine

Today, I made umeshu. Or, I hope I did. I did what I thought you do to make umeshu. I even used plums out of my own garden, no kidding. Don't ask what percent, though.

The rock sugar has already dissolved a little in this photo. And I hope the plums are unripe enough. We'll take her for a taste test in a month or two and see how she goes.

From 2011_06_16

It's been that kind of a day?

Happy Monday

Monday, May 9th, was like some kind of anomaly in the world of Mondays.

I had the day off because it was my school's "Foundation Day," which fortuitously came at the end of the Okinawa trip. If I had known about the day off in advance, I might have tried to extend my stay in Okinawa yet longer, but as we have seen, that would have been a not so good idea. So, instead, I just had an extra day to recover from vacation before heading back to work.

Monday was dazzlingly sunny and quite warm. These are perfect laundry conditions. In the winter, laundry takes about a full day in the sun to dry. More often than not, it would end up hanging from my closet door while I ran the heater at night. One thing I like about spring and summer (rainy season excluded) is the way you can hang laundry out more frequently, with much faster results.

So I did some laundry, and I finished unpacking, and I made a foray into the garden which had somehow lost all its color (other than greeeeen) during my absence. And there I discovered 8.6 zillion motherfucking aphids on each cluster of leaves on my little plum tree. Any kind of insect, especially large numbers of very small ones, which is eating something in my garden makes me really, really, irrationally angry. I want nothing more in the world than to end their lives as quickly as possible. Because how dare those little bastards be destroying my poor innocent plants that are not hurting anyone and that are tenuously enough holding on to life as it is? The little flowers and trees out there are just tryin' to grow, and they are bright and a beauty and a joy and anything that brings harm to them must instantly cease to do so, or die.

From 2011_04_30

This murderous rage was the only blot of negative energy on the whole morning. The rest was spent relishing my plan to visit the Thousand-Year Fuji (wisteria) of Yamasaki. I decided to go and see it on a general foray into town by bike, the usual, bank (what's the damage, Okinawa?), post office (packages to pick up, letters to send). Osaki-san had said the best days of the fuji blooms were usually right through Golden Week (3rd - 5th of May), but I had resolved to go check it out as soon as I could get over there after getting back from Okinawa.

Of course, as with any season-dependent plant life, dates only give general ideas of when the best time will be. There are photos on display at the shrine by the sen-nen fuji showing it in full bloom on May 10th, and another year, April 28th. People come from far and wide to see this thousand-year fuji (recall our own pilgrimage to the thousand-year sakura tree in Yabu), from Osaka and maybe even beyond, so I figured I was pretty lucky since I could just bike a few blocks.

Last year, I went to see the place when it was just past its prime. I had heard of it, but didn't even know where the shrine was until it was too late! A few hangers-on wandered in the pleasant shade, and there was the mild scent of dried flowers, some of the fallen petals crunching softly underfoot.

From 2010_05_16

I went a few more times to that shrine just to poke around and enjoy it. I think of it (quite all made-up by me, I assure you) as the shrine to Japanese Venus, or sort of like that equivalent (femininity, growth, fertility, love, etc.), partly because I went there at a time when I was thinking about Venus and new beginnings and healing and growth, and partly because of this statue:

The shrine is called 大歳神社, or "Otoshi shrine" .. and it turns out that is more associated to Jupiter, than anything.

From 2011_05_09

This year, as I rode up the hill to where I thought I should park my bike, the warm breeze wafted a lovely floral scent over me. I realized with a start that it was coming from the wisteria. I was prepared for the color, and the crowds of old people, but I had not thought about the way the place would smell (I, being lately rather sensitive to smells; recall how a whiff of the moldy smell in our condo made me queasy). I went into the main area to sit in the shade and breathe in the fresh gentle smell of it all. It was absolutely awesome. The photos don't do the warmth or smell any justice, but at least you can see some of the blooms (click through to go to the album):

From 2011_05_09

From 2011_05_09

From 2011_05_09

From 2011_05_09

I thought this was cool, the blooms coming out of this vine near the ground! The main trunk in the center of the pavilion did not have this.

From 2011_05_09

I also really liked the idea that I could go run my errands, then come back again and sit for a minute, if I liked. I resolved to do so, and also to stop at Osaki-san's "open garden" (she lives really close to the Sen-nen Fuji) and ask her advice on those gdmf aphids back home.

When I went to Osaki-san's, I didn't know what to really expect. What we had there was, older people, mostly ladies, wandering in in nice dress to take traditional matcha tea (complete with a sweet) in Osaki-san's beautifully appointed tea room, with a view to the garden. Then she walked through the garden with the lady I happened to sit next to and take tea with, and pointed out some stuff for both of us. Before I left, she gave me a nice big bottle of AphidDeath (named by me) to borrow, and also some riceballs, which I took back to the fuji to eat for lunch while basking in the ancient plant's sweet presence.

As I biked home, there were cars lined up all the way to the main road, and people walking along the street between the Michi-no-eki (road station) and fuji. There's really no parking up by the shrine. I felt even more pleased to be on a bike, and decided to visit the fuji every day for a little while, if I could (of course, this plan was foiled by three straight days of heavy rain, which also did their part to take out most of the blooms and leave the display in worse shape than I found it last year!).

I spent the early afternoon doing a bit of gardening, finishing up some chores, and getting ready for the evening. At 4pm I had my second HPV vaccine shot. The paperwork runaround eventually led me downstairs where a nurse with a "I'm new" badge on her nametag asked me which arm I preferred to take my painful injection in. Another nurse corrected her, showing her that it was already written on my form, that these things were all decided ahead of time. I thought, awesome, the last shot left my arm sore for two days. This is going to be hurt like a bitch and a half with sweet nurse Newbie stabbing me.

She was super sweet, though, and as she got ready to stick me (with all the seasoned nurses, including the one who got me last time, standing by in a line against the wall, watching), she said "It's going to hurt, so be brave!" I took a breath and tried not to remember how, when I was 13, a nurse had to try like five times to get the IV in my hand properly because she was new. But just because it was Happy Monday, maybe, the shot didn't even burn like the last one did, and the following day, the muscle was only a little sore (nothing like the time before!).

I hurried home to get ready for homemade okonomiyaki dinner at Heke's dance teacher's house, which was excellent, and of which there was too much food, of course. Wrapped up the night by going over trivia questions with Lester for the Pub Quiz at the end of the month. All in all, an excellent day.

Sakura, Sakura

Sakura in Japan is a big deal.

In English, we say “cherry blossom” for the flower, and “cherry” for the fruit. The fruit is the thing; the blossom is just how you get there. In Japanese, precedence goes the other way: the blossoms are sakura, and the cherries perhaps later produced are sakuranbo, the natural result of having sakura. But sakuranbo, I should mention, aren’t as big or juicy or sweet as the imported American big-ass cherry, or black cherry, or whatever.

First blooms, school driveway.

From Hanami 2011

But what makes the sakura so damn special? Why does it become the flavor of every consumable food and drink imaginable ‘ere springtime approacheth? Why does the weather start to carry bloom forecasts along with sun and rain? Japan loves the sakura for a number of reasons. One is the brevity of the blossoms: sakura blooms in an area for about one week before the petals start to drop. It’s kind of symbolic of the preciousness of youth and beauty, how shit fades really fast, and you gotta enjoy it while it’s there. I think the other reasons are that it signals the start of real spring. Sakura opens when the sun makes it warm enough, so normally, sakura time is open-windows, outside into the sunshine time.

From Hanami 2011

Last year, hanami season was right after I returned from spring break in warm sunny Okinawa. Last year, hanami season was cold as a bitch. We bundled up in coats and gloves and shivered in the dark outside Himeji-jo, snagging some good photos just before the castle went under tarps, and then hurried home to turn on heaters and crawl under blankets.

Himeji Castle hanami, 2010.

From Hanami

Hanami is supposed to be lying back on blankets, setting up BBQ pits on riverbanks, sipping sake in the warm sunshine (or in the evening, under lamplit trees). It’s supposed to be the way people enjoy the lovely warmth of spring.

From Hanami 2011

Last year, I didn’t really get into sakura season, partly because I returned from Okinawa and everything was in full bloom, and it’s only downhill from there. I was too busy with the new school year and post-vacay catchup to really go and enjoy them, plus there was the Cold of Winter-Ling’ring. I preferred, I found, the new-formed leaves of later spring, the robust appearance of the healthy living green that covered the hillsides after hanami-season was over.

Kagoshima, Yoshino Park

From 2011_04_02

But this year, it’s a little different. I spent spring break in Kagoshima, where at the time sakura was just blooming down there. Sakura bloom moves like a wave over Japan, starting down in Okinawa in like February, and moving up to Hokkaido by May. They’re blooming now around here, with the ones higher up in the mountains in full bloom maybe today, while the stuff closer to sea level was full-bloom about last weekend.

Center Ichinomiya

From Hanami 2011

Those gnarly, unimpressive trees draw the sap up from where they sent it to hide during the effing-cold of the winter months and their very first act is an explosive orgiastic excess of pale pink petals. The landscape is bare except for evergreens, the last of the plum blossoms, and then the ridiculous fervor of the sakura, branches nearly invisible beneath the blanket of blossoms.

From Hanami

They’re thick with the blooms, like cloud puffs of light pink. It goes well with the light blue of the sky, really. So this year, I like the sakura. I like looking out the window of the bus and seeing them like signatures across the mountainsides. I like the way they are just everywhere, their visual mating call resounding, each to each, as they line roads, riverbanks, fields. You don’t have to go to a festival or special place to ‘view’ them, because they’re along the driveway to work, and they’re along the river that the road follows north, and they’re in your neighbor’s yard.

And just as suddenly and madly as they bloom, they fade, petals fall like warm snow, get swept into eddies and canals, and dust the edges of paths.

From Hanami

From Hanami

Something else I like about sakura (this year) is the way that some of the trees are little and puny, some are like regular trees, and others are clearly masters of their respective areas. Last weekend, I spent Sunday riding the Himeji Riiide route with Illustrator JET to make sure we had that nailed flat (conscientious? you bet!), and I spent Saturday on a mini-roadtrip to Yabu with three other Shisonians. Our pilgrimage was to go see a sakura tree that is 1,000 years old.

You'd need scaffolding too, if you were a thousand.

From Hanami 2011

A thousand! This tree was around before.. before.. well, before lots of things! I love the idea of living things that are so old. They call it the Oya Daizakura (or is it O-zakura? I dunno) and it’s a monster of a tree, a huge sprawling thing, pretty in a sort of massive, oddly-shaped kind of way. The tree, sadly, was not in full bloom, being a bit higher up in elevation than the Himeji trees, but it was a great roadtrip and we packed a hell of a good picnic, and made several stops along the way there and back. The rules of the roadtrip were, each person in the car has to call for at least one stop (only one?) along the way there or back, at any place, be it combini for supplies, shrine that looks interesting, the dam that holds up the reservoir in Haga…

Hello picnic! We failed to bring utensils, so we ate the chicken salad by scooping it with bread or spinach leaves.

From Hanami 2011

On the path in Himeji, pre-PEPY-ride with the Illustrator.

From Hanami 2011

So overall, it was a good and exhausting weekend. I prefer to take my hanami on the road, because I feel like I see more, and I like the idea that I’m not just sitting, but moving through the picture. I biked from Himeji station to Taiyo Park and back again on a free rental bike (courtesy of Himeji tourism office) in flip-flops, while the riverbanks below the bike path played host to a hundred blossom-gazers and  their kids wading in the water and their uncles grilling on the BBQ pit. The smells were intoxicating. “It’s like Memorial Day weekend,” I observed to the Illustrator, “only not so damn hot out.”

 Click on any of the above photos to go to the full albums, including gratuitous overphotography of blossoms, and of the thousand-year sakura, and other spring things.

Travel OK

Copying this straight from the US Embassy email I just got:
U.S. citizens should defer non-essential travel to the following regions:  Tokyo (Tokyo Capital Region), Yokohama (Kanagawa Prefecture), and the prefectures of Akita, Aomori, Chiba, Fukushima, Gunma, Ibaraki, Iwate, Miyagi, Nagano, Niigata, Saitama, Shizuoka, Tochigi, Yamagata, and Yamanashi.

Areas of Japan outside these above regions of concern include:  the islands of Hokkaido, Shikoku, Kyushu, and Okinawa, and the prefectures Aichi, Fukui, Gifu, Hiroshima, Hyogo, Ishikawa, Kyoto, Mie, Nara, Okayama, Osaka, Shiga, Shimane, Tottori, Toyama, Wakayama, and Yamaguchi on the island of Honshu.  Travelers to these prefectures should bear in mind that transit through Narita (Chiba) and Haneda (Tokyo) airports may be required.

This means many systems are go.

In the meantime, it's the last day of the official school year. The office smells strongly of bubblegum.. I think it must be cleaning products. I spend the morning booking Okinawa (dragging those participating Shiso-ites kicking and screaming into the world of planned Golden Week travel) while the tickets are still within our price range, because we've thrown around hypotheticals for at least a month, ohh, Korea? hmm.. Okinawa? The Philippines? Hmm.. But so-and-so has already been there. And someone doesn't have enough money and someone doesn't have enough vacation days, but it's important to me for us to make this trip together because it's the end of the JET year nearly, by then, but it's impossible for anyone to commit to or settle on anything. Fuck that! We're nearly out of time.
I try to look at websites about Kagoshima and fail. I will need to look at a guidebook instead. I consider ordering one on Amazon and decide to just borrow someone else's for this weekend.

I spend the morning in renraku form, playing little miss travel agent for myself and others, e-mailing and messaging in different people's various (idiotic.. no it's not her fault she can't access e-mail at work and uses facebook instead) messages. Lunch I sit and watch the sun on the river. It really is starting to feel like spring. After lunch I get back and have had enough of people who just don't listen.. and I don't mean 'people who just don't agree,' I mean who don't listen to things like facts. I tell them the time, the price. Then they ask again in another e-mail fifteen minutes later. Who can be bothered to scroll up, anyway? I have my fill of it and flee the bubblegum scented stuffy office for the flowerbeds because

I walk up that driveway every day and back down again in the afternoon to catch the bus, and there is one pansy bed among the many that is choked with weeds. The big powerful weeds wrap their coils (and roots, too) around the pitiful flowers, choking the life from them slowly...

So I grab my gloves (which VP gave to me some random day when he asked me to join him in his random job-doing around school) and go down to weeds who do not argue, and do not ask questions, and I rip them out and beat the roots against the rocks to loosen the dirt therein tangled. And the weeds resist, and the flowers do not thank me, still there's satisfaction in the sunshine of it, the dirt, and the warming wind. I think I found my new favorite spring-break-at-work sunny day pastime.

But of course, at some point I really will have to look into what I'm going to hope to do in Kagoshima this weekend. And I really shouldn't slack off on my Japanese studyin'. Maybe I'll do it on the train.

Updates from HQ

It’s been a whirlwind here at EmLem HQ; we’re pushing to publish HyogoTimez early because the designer (and probably most of the writing staff) is leaving for spring break on Friday. I’ve been attending graduations and trying to collect, digest, and disseminate information. I thought this issue of HT would be smaller than normal because we’re missing two of the regular sections, but then I somehow wrote a bunch of sections myself that I felt needed to go in and.. we’re about where we are every month I guess.

From 2011_03_19

It’s spring, officially. Sagramore came to visit and we had pretty much the coolest Shiso weekend ever. First we visited Tatsuno’s Ayabeyama plum grove collection, where we wandered through that special brand of newly-spring sunlight and an intoxicatingly plum-blossom-aroma-filled air. I bought some honey which I believed at the time (but no longer believe) to have been produced by the terrible Death Bees (susumebachi) of Japan.

Not an optical illusion. They really are that effin' big.

From 2011_03_19

From 2011_03_19

From 2011_03_19

Father Earth: Sagramore refused to let a lady carry around a new pet tree when his hands were empty.

From 2011_03_19

We then went directly to monkey park Chikusa (directly is relative.. I got lost and found again along the way), which proclaimed itself open with signs at the front, but there were no monkeys nor people to be found at the park site itself. On a whim, we (three of us now, with the addition of Chikusa’s Zed) climbed a hill toward Ruriji (the temple around which was built the monkey park), even though the path was muddy and there are still a lot of downed trees there from the typhoon rain-caused landslides almost two years ago.

Our reward was that as we pursued the dying sunlight to the top, we found where the monkeys were hiding, as well as a semi-abandoned looking temple. It was pretty freakin’ awesome. I did not have my camera in hand.

After marveling for a while, we went back for dinner at Raputa, followed by a good karaoke session in which we screamed lyrics until we could not speak anymore.

Sunday, we had brunch at Uncle Tom’s Cabin (yeah it’s really called that), a restaurant near my apartment, and then went to Takarazuka, where Sagramore was able to get tickets for seats not far from us. We saw Beauty and the Beast, which was fabulous as Takarazuka is, and the second act was a sort of musical dance and singing number which made sense in a over-the-top glitter and feathers and sparkles and colors kind of way until the unicorn bit (which I still don’t get).. even the America segment, with its cavorting and gunmanship and yee-haws was understandable! We followed the show with dinner at a classy New Zealand restaurant (where yes I did lick the plate), and I concluded along the rainswept walk that Takarazuka is a cool city, all perched there along the river tucked against the mountains, and I hope to spend more time there, especially once Laureno gets installed.

I drove home zombie-like through the rain so I could go to bed so I could get up Monday morning and go sit for my portrait..!

And that too was pretty much awesome. I’ve gotten to the point where visiting a Japanese household is not a huge cultural experience. Happily, the purpose of my visit was not Japanese Cultural Experience (some people in the past have invited me over in order to Teach Me Stuff and show me the layout of a house.. it’s not until I get into these situations that I think about the fact that I go to a Japanese home once a week for dinner and studyin’), so we didn’t waste any awkwardness with a tour or explanation of the style, displays, or whatever.

We had tea in the morning and a cookie, and chatted a bit. I hung out with his wife while he set up in the studio before 9. I use that term deliberately; in some situations I “sit with” someone’s wife as we awkwardly attempt to find more about the weather to say to one another. But here, we just chatted, paused to watch a little NHK, chatted some more. I was their first foreign guest (gaijin-san.. I think nobody who says that actually means it as an ironic insult). The house seemed full of various paintings. I thought about my grandfather, the artist.

I was more relaxed than I thought I might be, too. I sat for twenty minutes at a time with ten minute breaks in between. I refused to look at the work in progress. I looked around the studio. We chatted during breaks and a little bit during sitting. When it was finished, we had pasta and salad and whiskey and chicken, and it was all really good. I felt pretty at home still.

I thought the painting was really good. I think my real face is a bit rounder, and in the painting I look older or sadder or something.. maybe longer, or maybe I just don’t know what I look like from the side (er..). I wanted to take a photo of it, but I didn’t because I wasn’t sure of protocol. I figured I (or my parents) might buy it at some point.. and I was still (am still) hoping to maybe do it again. He didn’t seen quite satisfied with the painting, and I don’t know if that was just culturally the way you have to put down yourself and your stuff and your skills, or if it was the artist’s affliction wherein nothing is every quite right.

They gave me fifty bucks and then his wife drove me home. On the way, she mentioned that sometimes he gets mad at Newbie-sensei because he wants her to become a good teacher. It dawned on me that this makes total sense. Here I was, fearful that he hated me, when actually he was just getting mad sometimes because he gives a shit and wants us to be better. Because the students should get a good education and because.. because we just should keep trying to be better. I can really identify with someone who gets frustrated when other people aren’t better sometimes.

The result of the morning was that a painting was produced, the future of which is uncertain, but that it exists is really cool to me. And I like this teacher a lot more. I feel like I might really be part of this town (especially if my picture gets to hangin’ in the local pizza restaurant, and it might), and this staff, and I like to think we can ‘hang out’ with our co-workers. If I had a house or cooking skillz of any kind, I would invite them for dinner. Instead I just stopped tiptoeing around the staff room. I mean, ef it, I’m a person here too, right? Just a person.