Get this: Beach season ENDS next week. They'll take down all the lovely beach shacks with their change rooms and hot-dogs and ice-cold beers, and people won't come to the beach anymore. Because it's over. Really. No matter that it'll be 30 degrees Celsius plus well into September... because BEACH SEASON IS OVER. And we Follow the Rules. Unless you're a surf-nut, or a crazy gaijin, like me. And I have been enjoying the beach, veryvery much, and will be sad to see all those lovely Japanese guys take their Hello Kitty beach umbrellas and their inflatable, water-craft-towable bananas (which they bounce upon joyfully as they are towed repeatedly by the beach), and their purple shorts and pink sandals, and get back into their business suits and their air-conditioned offices. Metero-sexuality is alive and well, in Japan, folks. In case you were wondering.

I've been having a blast lately; I went to a Yaki-Nikku (BBQ) party with my friend Miho and her classmates to celebrate the beginning of their summer vacation. I ate piece after piece of hot lovely beef, peeled straight off the grill and deposited directly into my personal bowl of sauce, corn, eggplant, onion, onigiri (rice balls), skipped rocks on the beach, learned a few new Japanese comedy routines (I can now make the kanji for 'life' with my body, which is apparently hilarious) and took photo after photo. The evening culminated with tossing the drunkest guy into the sea, and an especially careless and dangerous fireworks display, which was exhiliratingly, stupidly fun. I myself was a bit of a party favour-- kind of like when someone brings their new puppy to a party. I'd get played with until one person's English supply was exhausted (or they were exhausted by my poor Japanese), and then I'd get passed on. Kind of fun. It left me just outside of things enough that I could really enjoy and appreciate the dynamics of the group-- the way they helped each other in every situation, especially when things needed to be cleaned up or work needed to be done.

I've also recently gone bowling with a Mongolian (truth) and been over to Bubu's a few times for dinner. He told me recently that he is my father while I am in Japan, and his house is my house too. I was very deeply touched... I took my Mongolian friend, Battur (or Mong-Chan as Bubu is now calling him) over to Bubu's the other night when Miho was making curry, and we all traded animal noises... surprise, surprise. Everyone loves animal noises! Mong-Chan didn't understand at first that we wanted to hear the 'children's' animals sounds-- the simple ones for kids, like Oink or Quack or Moo. So he was making some quite realistic noises! Eventually he understood-- all I remember is that cows go "Mmm-bu" in Mongolian. Battur is here in Tokushima studying medicine at Tokushima University. The university has quite a high international student population, and we English teachers occaisionally cross paths them at TOPIA- the international center, or at the real international center, Ingrid's karaoke bar.

At any rate, Neil has just phoned me with the promise of adult beverages and English conversation. No animal noises for me tonight! Until next time...

Namaste

Endrene