I shouldn't leave my blogging as the last thing to do before I leave the internet cafe. The heavy cigarette smoke is giving me a headache that not even the free espresso can quell.

Feeling sluggish even as the caffeine sloshes through my veins; I guess I'm still recovering from the indulgences of my vacation. I ate-- OH, did I eat! I ate crab legs and strange orange sea creatures, I ate seaweed salads and home-made gyoza, and Mickey-shaped onigiri and sugary soda-flavoured popcorn from Tokyo Disneyland. In Sendai I ate cow's tongue and snotty-textured raw yama-imo (mountain potato). And here's the kicker-- I ate whale. Oooh, Greenpeace is gonna get me now! I didn't know it was whale when I took it. Maybe that's not an excuse. But I ate it. Hmmm. Greasy like lamb-fat, darkly manky in flavour. I can't honestly recommend it. Eating it prompted a discussion of why whale is still consumed in Japan-- force of habit, mostly. Long time ago, there were no cows in Japan (or very few to speak of, so let's just say there were none) so all the protein sources came from the sea--- why spend time and energy raising meat when you can just go grab it out of the ocean? Now of course, whales are endangered, and the world-wide consumption of beef causes global warming as 3rd world nations slash and burn forests so as to raise cattle and compete in the global economy... but let's stop there. Sustainability is an issue for another time. For now, let's just accept the fact that I ate whale, and I feel weird about it.

I flew to Tokyo last Wednesday and promptly got lost trying to find Sumiko and Kazuo. I found an information kiosk and had the embarrassing honor of having my name and my predicament announced to the hundreds of thousands of people in the Narita airport. Sumiko-- with Kazuo, her niece Yuuko, and Yuuko's two sons-- aged 5 and 3-- descended upon me, told Tomoya (age 5) to hold my hand and not lose me, and off we went. Lunch, monorail, train, train, train, train, car. Ta-da! We're in Tsukuba. From the outside, the two houses looked unchanged (Sumiko's and Kazuo's, and Kazuo's parents house-- they've both passed away since I was here in 1994) but Sumiko and Kazuo had been doing some renovating-- now both houses were connected, forming one mega-house. HUGE! Like a maze of sliding doors and dropped foyers and long hallways and secret rooms. My bedroom was to be in Sumiko's former master suite, where I slept 12 years ago at the foot of their bed on the floor. (This sounds weird, but it was because it was the only air-conditioned bedroom in the house, so they were actually being very kind). We dropped off my stuff, went out for do-it-yourself okonomiyaki and karaoke, then returned home, an exhausted wee trio, to the monster palace.

The next day started another round of car, train, train, train, train, as Sumiko, Yuuko, Tomoya and I plunged back into Tokyo to go to Disneyland. OK, so forgive me, but I'm going to say it here and now: I am finished with Disneyland. I have never liked Mickey or Minnie Mouse. And yet-- I have been to Disneyland California, Disney World Florida, and now Tokyo Disneyland-- twice. It's like some part of me belongs to Walt Disney's frozen spirit, and I can't escape. I'll admit that the first time, I felt the magic. I was able to suspend reality, be a child in a magical fairyland. But then, in university, I grew suspicious. I studied Disneyland, took it apart, researched its inner workings, its dark anomalies. And then, like the kid who takes apart her grandfather's beautiful pocketwatch to figure out how it works, I couldn't put it together again. Disneyland didn't 'tick' for me anymore. Just like after Film School, when all I could do was notice bad lighting, stilted scriptwriting, and poor sound quality. At least I still have my night-time dream-shows... I ought not ever study psychology.

Anyway, I'm off track.

Tokyo Disneyland was Disneyland, in all of it's fabricated, fascinating glory. Characters careened through the manicured boulevards-- I posed with the Mad Hatter from Alice in Wonderland, some flaming Iowa farmboy with perfect white teeth and a glued-on nose. "Let's be eighties about it and pose back-to-back!" he trilled. I grinned and said, as an aside, "sure is nice to speak real English to somebody!" He nodded enthusiastically, and breaking from his Disney-script, said "Tell me about it, sister! Tell Me About It!" So all, in all, Disneyland was fun. There was a Halloween theme-- so we watched the Halloween parade-- twice (most of the rides frightened Tomoya). I wore Minnie ears. I went on Pooh's Hunny-Hunt which was quite fun and beautiful. I also got a kick out of hearing Pooh and Tigger and Piglet talk in Japanese. When Tigger sings the bouncy Tigger song, it actually sounds quite-- well, dirty. I won't mention what I thought I heard him say! I also went on Buzz Lightyear's Space Blasters ride. I got to handle a laser-gun and shoot aliens... so that was fun too. The Raceway and The Jungle Cruise and Splash Mountain are the same as they are at every other Disneyland-- except in Japanese, of course. And-- here's where I don't remember why I was complaining in the first place-- Sumiko bought me a fast-pass for the Thunder Mountain railroad, far-and-away my favorite Disneyland ride! That was wicked. OK, I'll go back to Disneyland. When I have kids.

Train, train, train, train, car. Bed. Get up, eat breakfast-- Sumiko had lovingly sorted out the details of my trip, and left a gorgeous Japanese breakfast for me as she herself had to get off to work that day.　She arranged to have her other niece Haruka, meet me that morning. car, train, train, train, train. Shinsaibashi, Harujuku, shop, look for 'Harajuku Girls' (didn't see any), eat the crepes that Harujuku is famous for (yes, crepes-- mine was strawberry-chocolate-cream-and-pound-cake flavour). Then train, train, train, back to Tokyo station to meet Ume. Then onto the Shinkansen (Bullet Train) and start off to Sendai. As we jet along in the relative peace and comfort of the speeding capsule, I felt strangely at ease. I'm going to Sendai. I'm going home, I'll see Ume's mom and dad, I'll sleep on a futon on the floor next to best Japanese girlfriend, we'll talk about stuff. Actually, we never ceased talking about stuff. The whole 2 hour train ride, then as we walked through Sendai to a Jazz cafe, and later on from there to have a reunion with 4 of the the Penticton-Summerland Japanese exchange students of 1994, neither one of us shuts up. I tell her about my students, my friends, my mishaps in the world of dating Japanese guys and she tells me about her two years in Hawaii, her current boyfriend, the antics of her over-the-top father.

It was good to see the other students again. Jun-ya, only 30, looks as though he's 45... already a father, and a heavy-drinking, heavy-smoking salary-slave. As we reminisced, I felt my heart ache for the confident, hopeful boy he'd been. As for the girls-- one's married, a brand-new shufu (housewife), the other is looking forward to her wedding. Hiro really impressed me-- never ceasing to believe that he was anything but an artist, he is now nothing but an artist. Determined and committed, 100%. The next day, Ume and her Dad and I all went out to Hiro's family house wayyyy out in the far reaches of a country town called Zao, and saw his work. It blew my mind. We're talking intense, massive watercolours stretched on boards-- ranging anywhere from 10' x 30', to his largest, 26' x 90'. Well, we said we wanted a revolution in watercolours, and Hiro's done it. I was at a complete loss for words. We all moved indoors (he paints in a converted barn/garage, like I did in Aldergrove) and had tea with his mother and father and-- I'm not sure if he/she was his grandma or grandpa. Anyway, I did Hiro's portrait, and he did mine. Ume's dad told stories that made Hiro choke on his laughter as he sketched me. He invited me to come to the art prep school he works at and I did, a day later. I had a blast, and was once again deeply impressed by his seriousness and commitment to art and his students.

The afternoon after we visited Hiro's house, Ume, and her mom and I convened at the Green Green Ryokan, set in the heart of the undeniably green, green rolling hills. The view from our room looked out on nothing but an expanse of emerald. The onsen at the hotel was simple but large and comfortable; the outdoor bath was blessed by the cool sweet air rolling down off the mountainside. I spent a whole 20 hours with Ume and her mom, lolling about in our hotel-yukatas (we even ate dinner in them), eating mochi-ume sweets and Sendai vanilla cream-cheese, watching Japanese comedies on TV and having multiple baths at the onsen. Pure bliss.

As I write this, the sun is shifting outdoors, and I feel the pounding need to get out of this internet cafe... I can only remain suspended in the comfort of my memories for so long before the second-hand nicotine becomes a renewed reality. Suffice it to say, I had a lovely time; I feel re-centered and surrounded by the warmth and love of good Japanese people on all sides. I am truly blessed to have met all of these people, and to have experienced their warmth and generosity.