Adventures in Japan no. 20

Last night I went out for dinner at Cous-Cous (a French restaurant in Yonago) with 2 of my English students, Masumi and Masami. Masumi is an advanced English speaker who makes a living selling Issey Miyake and goes to wine parties as a hobby. Masami is a beginning English speaker and also a customer of Masumi's. Masumi was a fantastic translator, though after we'd collectively consumed two bottles of wine, it became a little more difficult to understand her.

Masumi chose a 5 course seafood menu for our meal. I know fish is quite popular in Provence and most of the south of France, but I guarantee that sashimi-style raw fish isn't French. What would Julia Child think?

For the first course we were served an egg custard full of assorted seafood – I believe we had cod and lobster.

The second course was a stack of sashimi piled on top of a tomato wedge and a half of a radish – covered with a gelatinous fish consommé. It was probably my least favorite of the dishes, but it was still pretty good. The flavor of the consommé was very delicate and matched nicely with one of the bottles of Italian white that Masumi brought to the restaurant.

The third course was Shimane (a near prefecture) beef. It was amazing. Beef in Japan is so expensive and extensively marbled. It was sliced and tossed with wild greens and a warm mustard vinaigrette.

For the fourth course we had abalone and a small lobster in an escargot sauce. This was fantastic! I was a little put-off seeing Masumi eating the entire lobster, shell and all. The abalone was wonderful – very firm meat for a shellfish, and the escargot sauce paired so nicely with it – but I felt a little guilty eating an endangered species, so I asked if I could take the shells home. In Japan it's unheard of to bring leftovers home from a restaurant, so my request was received with laughs. I might not have normally asked to bring the shells of the fish I was consuming home, but I'd had a lot to drink and was really feeling the guilt from the abalone.

For desert we had a small piece (the size of a wine cork) of chocolate cake and frozen yogurt.

We ordered a cheese tray as an excuse to finish off the bottle of Italian red that Masumi brought, and finished dinner with double espressos.

I woke-up this morning a little groggy and forgot about the two napkin-wrapped abalone shells in my purse. Now my purse smells like fish. A small price to pay for a fantastic night.

Adventures in Japan no. 19

The waters of an onsen come from the mountains. Hot springs with the powers to heal. An eternal spring. Have the Japanese discovered the incredulous fountain of youth?

Going to an onsen, or public hot spring bath, is a part of everyday life in Japan. As Americans who are taught that nudity is dirty and shameful, it can be an awakening experience. I am walking, bathing and relaxing, nude, with a group of strangers. We are all different – our bodies have all seen different things: some childbirth, some surgery, some overweight. We are from different cultures, but we are all women living together on earth.

Kate and I were the only non-Japanese women in the onsen last night, but we're used to that. It's unusual to see someone who looks like us: fair complexions, and Western figures.

We soaked in the hot mountain water in the outdoor pool for an hour, surrounded by rocks and bamboo to shield us from onlookers. The steam rose as the cold winter air touched the sacred water, and then the rain began to fall.

Autumn

26 October 2006

It's autumn in Yonago. The Japanese maples are turning shades of bright red and the bamboo is turning a softer green. The humidity is gone for the year and there's a cool chill to the air.

It's the peak of the harvest – rice is drying in the fields and onions are hanging from people's balconies.

The persimmon trees are abundant with their fertile fruit. The leaves have fallen to the ground and the orange fruits decorate the sparse branches.

The Ant

I killed an ant this morning. I was putting in my contacts and saw it making its way up the side of my contacts case. I wiped it off the case and smashed it with my thumb – just one gentle thump and it was dead. I left the ant there.

Later that afternoon I went into the washroom to pop a pimple and noticed the ant was still there. Feeling a little guilty for killing it, I pondered the relationship between insects and humans.

I then noticed 3 more ants running past the body of the deceased. I moved in closer for a better look. One of its ant brethren (we'll call him Wilcox) was trying to pick up the body of the fallen. My powerful thumb-stomp stuck it to the counter, and Wilcox was having a hell of a time moving the deceased. Again, feeling a little guilty I carefully unstuck the dead ant from the counter so Wilcox could move him.

Feeling a notable joy, I watched Wilcox pick-up his fallen friend and (with a little struggle) carry him away.

Adventures in Korea no. 1

The Kampu Ferry connects Japan to South Korea by a simple boat ride across the Strait of Korea. Since Daniel's and my visas were about to expire we were forced to leave the country and re-enter – Welcome to Korea!

We spent Sunday driving through Tottori, Hiroshima and Yamaguchi Prefectures – together about a 6 hour drive through the very rural Western Honshu. Our first goal was Yamaguchi City. We met Maurice there (the owner of the English school we work for), had lunch and bought our train and ferry tickets. After lunch we took the train from Yamaguchi to Shiminoseki – another hour of travel.

Shiminoseki is the most southern point of Japan's Western Honshu Island. It's a lively port town with lots of great Western amenities. We went through immigration and boarded the ferry here.

When I heard we were taking a ferry from Japan to Korea I was expecting the type of ferry you'd take from Seattle to Bainbridge Island – something breezy and a bit uncomfortable. The Kampu Ferry has all the amenities of a cruise ship – a restaurant, karaoke, an onsen, and being from Japan all the vending machines you could ever ask for.

We found our room – a large carpeted room with a tv, shelving and about 20 futons on the floor. It was like a youth hostel on water. After a night of vomiting I discovered that I do get seasick.

The ferry ride from Japan to Korea is about 10 hours – the boat leaves Shiminoseki at about 8pm and arrives in Pusan at about 6am.

I've always thought that all Asian towns are the same – temples, languages I can't understand, no black or white people....but Korea was a bit different then Japan. Much more westernized – 7-11, the cars drive on the right side of the road, lots of loud horn honking, and no Japanese mullets. The entire city smelled like kim-chee.

After a day of wandering Pusan I really missed Japan. I missed how kind and friendly the Japanese are and how fresh the Japanese air is. We'd only been off the ferry for about 8 hours when it was time to board again for our return trip to Japan.

I'm exhausted, so glad to be back in Japan and am in no hurry to eat kim chee for a while. Cheers!

Adventures in Japan no. 18

7 January | 8:45a

As I was leaving French class last night, in the NHK parking garage, there was a bright flash of light. The kind of light you'd imagine when you're heading to the 'other side'. The light was immediately followed by a thunderous roar that shook the concrete structure I was in. I drove my Diahatsu Mira home in a storm of horizontal snow and wind gusts around 80km/h.

I didn't have a very blissful sleep that night. All night the wind was snapping our shutters against our house like rubber bands.

I awoke to a bright flash of light. Our entire bedroom was illuminated in what my mind could only place as an alien abduction (we all become X-Files characters in dreamland). The piercing light was again followed by a roar of thunder.

I crawled over Daniel, opened the shoji screen that covers the window above our bed and peered outside into the night sky that was ripping through the emerging daylight. There was a layer of ice on the window, formed by the clinging horizontal snow.

Were we getting hit with another typhoon? That's what I thought, but alas, 80km/h winds just sound louder at night.

Adventures in Japan no. 17

6 January 2006 | 9:43p

For months we have heard something in our walls. In our home. Something is sharing space with us. A flutter or a chase. Their sounds are haunting. I hear these noises only at night – scratching, clawing. Only I hear them. Daniel thinks I'm crazy.

Tonight we both heard them. In our walls – a scratching accompanied with a squeak. “We have mice!”, I exclaim. I finally know what has been taunting me at night.

“That's how the bat got in!”, Daniel proclaims. I'm confused. What are you talking about? We don't have mice in our walls – we have bats.