Tsukuba Mountain

      Tsukuba Mountain is a short trip to the north of us here, and we were told to take a hike, so we decided that was exactly what we would do.  We got up at 4:00 AM (2:00 PM for you in New York) and met the cousins from Moria.  They drove us to Tsukuba and we were lucky to get parking even though it was still quite early.  The weather was perfect and the maples were in full color, check out the photo.

      The hike was great, as I am in fair shape now that I am running.  I did discover that the muscles for running are not exactly used the same for hiking and my calves took a few days to stop reminding me.
      I found the hike somewhat melancholy since the last time we hiked Tsukuba was with Ryoko's cousin, Yumi-chan, who was killed by a truck last Summer as she was crossing the street.  I kept remembering how Yuta held Yumi-chan's hand on that last hike.  He was having a difficult climb and she was so kind as she helped him.  I remembered how I took Yumi-chan ice fishing years ago and how she looked like the wind would just pick her up and carry her off that day.  She had the slight frame so common here in Japan.  The next picture is one that we took that day.  I kept an eye out for the tree in this photo and when we came to it I suggested a photo with

the new group.  Ryoko took the picture, as she had the first time.  I did not think at all about where to stand and ended up in close to the same position.  Yumi-chan's sister, Kyo-chan is standing quite near to where Yumi-chan stood.  I feel that Yumi-chan was there in our spirits and I know that she would have approved of how we enjoyed the beauty of the mountain.  We miss you. . .

     We did not take the train down the mountain this time because the weather was much nicer. The number of hikers increased as we went down until it was almost harder to go down then up.  This trend continued until we made it to the bottom and took some pictures there.  We loitered

around at the bottom for some time and then made our way to the car. The scene around the parking lot was chaotic and Lee-san lost his temper with another driver.  I have not seen him angry before and that speaks volumes.  The line of traffic that we drove by snaked all the way down the foothills into the valley below.  I estimate that the line was at least 2 miles of cars.  I am glad that we got there early. . .

Tree Maintenance!

     I usually spend the Summers in Japan helping out around the house and farm, and this is the first real Fall/Winter that I will be here.  Oba-chan has always put me to work at some point trimming and maintaining the trees around the house with the statement that "this is early".  Well this year I finally get to do the work at the appropriate time.  Today we broke out the clippers and started "cupping" the trees along the driveway.  They had gotten a little rough and the work was needed.  It took us most of the day and clean up was tough considering the clippings were quite small.  I hope you agree that the outcome was worth the effort!

Signs and reading Japanese.

      I do not read Japanese, and this is a major setback to life here in the land of the rising sun.  It is especially a pain in the neck when shopping.  I once bought skim milk thinking it was regular milk, which seems minor until you factor in the sheer volume of complaints emanating from the developing human in my life.  Size apparently is inversely related to vociferous rejection of fatherly mistakes.  The inability to read Japanese characters usually resolves itself when English characters (called romanji in Japan) are used and I can figure out the meaning.  I now have greater empathy for illiterates in society. . .

     One of the positives though is that many signs in Japan use cartooning to strengthen their message, and determining the meaning from them can be funny.  While I was jogging the other day I encountered this sign.  My thoughts of what it means were that "if you walk your dog here, we will throw explosives at you and blow up your dog!".  I looked around to make sure that there were no dogs in the area that may be misconstrued as mine.  It seemed best to not test their resolve, since rules in Japan are followed without variation.  When I showed this sign to Yuta (he is literate in Japanese) he told me that it was just a warning not to litter.  What I took to be a stick of dynamite is really a can.  I like my misunderstanding better, its more exciting!

The Magic of visiting Grandmothers

     I clearly remember, with great fondness, the times that I got to spend with Nan (my father's mother) in Yonkers, New York.  We would often go for a few days and spend time in the house that Dad grew up in, which is kind of awe inspiring for a boy who considered his father superhuman.  I can still call up the smell of the back yard with its moist, earthy notes. When I smell that aroma now, I am transported back to that place emotionally and imaginatively.  We would look forward to taking the walk "across the creek" to visit the store there, or up the hill to the other.  It was special to me, as I would imagine it was to my siblings.  Maybe this is because there is no love like a Grandmother's, no safety like in her care.

     Being in Japan, I can see my son making these kinds of memories for himself.  Yesterday I plowed where I was directed, and we planted onions (tama-negi) as a family.  The smell of my Grandmother's back yard was there, and I was likewise transposed.  Yuta enjoyed the planting, even though it was work, and informed us of his feelings by his enthusiasm and cheer, he even started singing.  When the first notes reached me, I glanced over at Oba-chan and we both smiled at each other.  Yuta can sing well, but we were reacting more to the evident joy in his tenor.  Hopefully when we harvest the onions, the lad will be more willing to eat them. . .
     Each day that Yuta goes to school at Yagi-Minami Shogako, I walk with him.  When we get to the gates of the school, I start my run and Yuta starts the academic day.  We usually take the shortcut that brings us down the hill and past a Lawson (small store) that reminds me of "across the creek" in Yonkers.  I have also had many instances of deja-vu when walking around the house.  Oba-chan resembles my Nan, and sometimes when I walk past, I see her in my peripheral vision.  I see Nan.  This causes me to back up and take another look to find that its Oba-chan, sitting flat on the floor, in the same way that my Grandmother used to.
     Nan had many humorous but very wise sayings, one of which was "when you burn your butt, you've got to sit on the blister".  I have thought of that this year as I struggle through homesickness, bacon withdrawal, and learning a difficult language.  But I know that this trip is worth our time as I know that Yuta is building a series of memories that will comfort him when he needs it.  I believe that these memories are part of what helps make humans resilient and I know that Yuta will have a better life with this experience to draw upon.

Nawa!

     I recently went on an overnight trip with Yuta to Ibaraki, just north of where we are now. Yuta's cousins had invited us to harvest rice in the traditional way and enjoy a local farmers festival on the river.  We had a blast and one of the things that I learned is how to use rice hay to make rope, which is called "Nawa".  I spent a few days playing around with the process and made quite a bit of rope (about 50 foot of it), none of which was strong enough to hold my weight, even when I doubled the rope.  Here is a picture of my Nawa:


     You can see the broken ends where I tested to see if it was strong enough to hold me.  I was very focused on the process and wanted to make sure that I remembered how to make nawa, so I spent a few days playing around with it.  Ryoko, observing me, decided to ask me to make an ornamental rope for the Shinto shrine in the house, which you can see below:

     I am accustomed to being able to make things with my hands.  I am a woodworker and general handyman as most of you know.  I took some time to study the fancy rope and tried to reverse engineer it so that I could make one.  After about an hour I realized that I had no idea what to do.  The rope in the shrine is beautiful, mine sloppy.  The level of workmanship in the shrine rope was way above anything that I could do at this point.  Ryoko told me that her father had made one, and it had taken him a full day or so.  I also learned that you can purchase them for not so many yen.  So I will not be making one, this is something better left to more adept craftsmen. I will be glad to teach anyone who asks, when back in the states, how to make crude rope. . .

Archaeology in Japan

     Today I was out on my morning jog when I went past the JA (Japan Agriculture) building.  Across the street are fields and within one of them were these holes.



Now my first thought was "holy cow, look at the gophers!", but then I noticed how regularly the topsoil was removed.  I have seen this before in Japan, only at the time the holes were filled with Archaeologists (I know what you are thinking, they were alive and mostly women to boot).  When I approached them then, I was informed that because Japan has such a long history, every construction project that is going to disturb the stratigraphy must have a dig performed in order to make sure that nothing important is destroyed.  Seems a bit much, but I can see the point and support the science.  So it seems that the first dig I found was active and real artifacts were being found, while I do not know if anything was discovered here.
     You gotta love a country that can keep their archaeologists busy.  In the States, they just wander around and get into your garbage, kind of like degreed raccoons. . .

Little Things

     Little things can make a big difference.  Japan is profoundly different in many ways from the US, but there are many aspects of Japanese society that are the same.  Gossip still reigns supreme among neighbors, litter still dots the landscape, and politicians lie.  But I find the slight differences to be humorous in the extreme.  Take my work shoes in the photo.  They are comfortable and stylish, if a little dirty here.
   












     I really enjoy wearing them and they certainly serve their purpose well.  The only issue is in the brand name of the shoes.  I know Shakespeare's opinion: "What's in a name? that which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet;" , and I agree with Juliet, names should only be important when communicating with others.  But there is a hitch in this philosophy, when the names become downright funny.

     As you can see I have reason to laugh each time I put these on.  I even find myself occasionally chuckling as I walk along , remembering the shoes I wear. . .