Tomorrow morning at 8:45 am, I'll be on a bus bound for Kyoto for four days. This is balm to my spirit, as lately I've been feeling a little crappy. I've been having weird dreams and terrible nightmares; in the weird dream category, one of the strangest was when I discovered that I was some sort of wonderous beast that, when milked, gave orange juice instead of milk. My cowrorkers were lined up with glasses and arguing over who got to get the juice first. I think I was some sort of weird-looking creature, fuzzy and orange in colour, part unicorn, part goat. I remember feeling vaguely embarrassed that my coworkers didn't recognize me as Endrene, and now they were going to drink my juice. In the terrible nightmare category, I awoke in a dead panic two mornings ago after dreaming that my dad was drowning in some sort of filtration pond, and I couldn't save him. I phoned home right away to make sure he was still alive (he was). Mom asked why I was having these awful dreams (I had phoned her two days previous, with a nightmare of her hating Christmas... which is impossible!).

Well, the rug is moving under my feet, as it is apt to do. My boss (and good friend) Maz, is leaving Nova in a matter of days; I've already had my final shift with her. That means I am now the senior staff member at my school. What?! Have I ever been the senior anything? Also, two days a week I'll be working at the other school, which means that I will no longer be teaching my favorite kids classes; I'm tearing up just thinking about it. I love those little booger munchers. I'm also on pins and needles awaiting approval from head office so that I can renew my visa. Without it, I'll be back in Canada in January, and I'm not ready to go. To top it off, I seem to be having a somewhat severe attack of homesickness... 'Christmas' (or Kurisumasu') in Japan seems to me to be a farce, a completely commercial holiday. Not to say that it isn't similar back home. However, at home the commercialism would be tempered by advent and the contemplation of the coming of Christ's birth. I can't claim to be as completely Catholic as I once was, owing to the fact that I think all forms of spirituality and thanksgiving are good and equally valid. But I am a girl with a yen for ceremony and deep meaning, so I find myself aching to go to church in a way that I haven't felt in years. I want to sing some expectant carols and smell incense and pine and hear the story of the baby in Elizabeth's womb leaping for joy. You know? I've made do with the purchase of a pointsettia and two Christmas CD's which I have been playing ad infinitum.

So, there's Kyoto to look forward to, to take my mind off of things for a bit. It's still Autumn here; the leaves have just hit their peak in terms of colour and splendour, so I couldn't have planned the timing of this trip better. I'll be meeting up with Ume and her mom at Kyoto Satation. We're going to see the famed Golden Pavilion, and some garden that was featured in Memoirs of a Geisha (dunno which one) and then it's on to Nara to see the Daibutsu (giant Buddha) and hopefully the little deer... and then... Takarazuka! I can't believe how excited I am about Takarazuka!

Taken from Wikipedia:

The Takarazuka Revue began in Takarazuka, Hyogo Prefecture, Japan in 1913 founded by Ichizo Kobayashi, the president of Hankyu Railways, who had the idea to boost sales by staging Western-style musical shows using only young, unmarried women. The name of the troupe comes from the Hankyu Takarazuka Line in suburban Osaka. The Revue had their first performance in 1914, and by 1924 the company had become popular and obtained their own theatre, the Dai Gekijō. Currently Takarazuka performs for 2.5 million people per year. Most fans of the group are women.
Part of the novelty of Takarazuka is that all the parts are played by women, like a mirror-image of Kabuki. The women who play male parts are referred to as otokoyaku (literally "male role") and those who play female parts are called musumeyaku (literally "daughter role"). The costume and set designs are incredibly lavish, and the performances are melodramatically emotional.

How cool is that? I'll be writing all about it following my return next monday... until then,

Namaste

Endrene

Bubu's Impression of Turkey
(as taken from a text-message he sent to me)

"We ate a turkey's meat. My impression which is not birds it is animal's taste and born. Nobody think it's born are birds. It is to much big and fat one for us. This is our first impression about turkey's taste. Thank you very much for your kindeness. Gochisosama deshita."

I phoned my brother during the late afternoon today, which meant that it was pushing midnight in BC. "You're calling me from JAPAN? That's so cool," he slurred. Uh, yeah dude. I'm kinda living here... Sandy's working as a firefighter in Kamloops, BC, and now for the second year in a row, he's travelled down to Vancouver with a group of other firefighters to string Christmas lights up in Stanely Park for some children's charity. The had finished their work for the day, and had moved on to some pub to celebrate a job well done.
"Did you tell that Japanese creeper to screw off?"
"Nah, man, I haven't dealt with it yet."
"WHAT? Did you get my email? I dressed up like Mike Holmes from Holmes on Homes for Halloween, and I sent you a picture... I look really scary. You can show it to the dude and say 'HE NO APPROVE'."
"What? Who is Mike Holmes?"
"He has a home improvement show..."
"I have no idea, man. I'll Google him."
"So, what's new?"

So, what's new, what's new... Went to Jeff's Annual American Thanksgiving Party last night; I half thought about cancelling, because it was raining. Then I remembered... the smell of turkey. Stuffing. Mashed potatoes. Didn't I say a month ago that I could do without this stuff? I lied. I braved the rain and the dark and the windy kilometer-long bridge, and arrived dripping wet, the first guest. Just in time to mash the potatoes. The cheesy, garlicky, buttery mashed potatoes. Jeff also made lovely little spinach balls, and was surprised to find that no-one else had made or eaten them before. Eventually he had a pretty good turnout; Me, Tomomi, Calvin, Maz, Andy, Jenna, Kat and Melissa. Pretty much everyone brought a bottle of wine, and most of the evening was spent quaffing the contents of the various bottles, praising the spinach balls, talking trivia, and avoiding Jeff's mean dog 'Buu', who is inclined to bite strangers. We also listened to Bani's karaoke recordings. Have you ever heard a largish Australian-Assyrian man sing 'Man, I Feel Like a Woman' by Shania Twain? It's an unparalleled experience.

Today saw me finding my way to the Uchimachi Culture Fair, where some of my artwork was on display. It was a lovely little community 'do, with gorgeous diplays of Japanese quilting, miniature gardening, photography, and artwork by various hobbyists and professionals. I went with Satoshi, and my friends Miho and Yasu joined up with us for a little while. In the farthest room there were tables set up with ink and fruits and vegetables and an encouraging volunteer; I found Miho and Yasu conspiring like kindergarteners at one corner as they painted a red pepper and a bunch of mushrooms, respectively. I sat next to an older lady and we shared a kaki (persimmon) as model between us. It was fun to paint a postcard and have the white-haired ladies come and peer over my shoulder, chanting 'jouzu, jouzu!' After we all finished, the sensei stamped our postcards with the hiragana for the first part of our names ('mi' for Miho, 'ya' for Yasu, 'e' for Endrene). Miho and Yasu left shortly after I had relocated Satoshi, who had been doggedly avoiding an overtalkative gentleman. We went for coffee and shot the breeze for a while, then parted; he for an early night at home, and me-- well, here I am, but I've been traipsing around a bit before now.

I've been going out a little bit more frequently lately, but I'm thinking about dropping of the face of the Tokushima-Night-Life earth, as my natural tendency to attract oddballs has been landing me in one creepy situation after another. I know Bubu thinks that I am responsible for some of the further graying of his hairs: "Sometime you make me more worried than my own daughter!" Probably I tell him and his wife too much about my goings-on, but it's nice to have someone worrying after you. Even if it means that he counts the nights that my apartment light isn't on when he walks home, and then accuses me of "over-play" the next time he sees me. Tonight (avoiding the enormous task of writing and addressing Christmas cards) I cooked them some apples (I found some for only 98 yen a piece!) in brown sugar and nutmeg and placed them, still-warm, on a layer of cookies, and hoofed it over to the shop.
"Remember how I promised to make you apple pie?"
Bubu poked at the plastic wrap and lifted the bowl into the light to inspect it. "This is apple pie?"
"Well..." It was the best I could do without an oven. "It's apple pie En-chan style."
Haruko thouroughly enjoyed the apples and asked for cooking directions. Success! We got to talking about why my apartment was dark last night.
"I went to a Thanksgiving dinner."
"Oh? What foods did you eat?"
"Mashed potatoes, stuffing, turkey-"
"Wait, wait, wait, chotto matte-yo, chotto-matte-yo... What? Turkey?"
Turns out turkey is the stuff of dreams. In the Land of No Ovens, the concept of buying and cooking a forigen twenty-pound bird seems well-nigh impossible. With round eyes, Haruko gestured hugely, indicating a big bird, and I nodded-- yes, it was a big bird. I forget sometimes that normalacy is all relative. I explained how Jeff had brought his American oven over in a cargo container, how he had bought the turkey from the Foriegn Buyers Club. Bubu and Haruko pressed me for details of a turkey's appearance, preparation, flavour.
"We have never tasted like this," he said wistfully.
Suddenly I remembered the leg Jeff had sent me home with. "Do you want to? Do you want to try turkey right now?" I scampered to my apartment and back in less than five minutes; the size of the drumstick was exclaimed over, and they both sniffed it curiously. I left, feeling I had done a good deed. Not five minutes after I was back home again, my phone rang; Bubu was making a dinner delivery as a show of thanks. Miso soup! Rice! Shredded cabbage and potato croquettes! That's what this girl likes. Besides... I've joined the Japanese camp on one opinion; I genuinely reccomend a Japanese diet to any regular gas sufferer!

The past week's wealth of experience has left me a little short of words. Ha! Who am I kidding-- me! Short of words!

Hmmm. Where to begin? Well, the Sushi Pimp* issue has still not been resolved, though I am trying to get it sorted. I looked at the Caramel Fritter's ideas for coping, and had actually already planned on going with a version of Option A) My Father Does Not Approve and Here is Your Money Back. But I don't actually want to see these people ever again, so it definitely has to be in a letter. Some wires got crossed with Kenji-- I had asked him last week to write a letter in Japanese for me, and I thought he had agreed; but when we met last night for our language exchange, he asked me if I had written a letter yet. So I think I might just plow ahead and try to write the letter in Japanese myself. It's going to be terrible to behold since I am still abhorrent at forming coherent sentences, and I have no training whatsoever in writing kanji, but maybe all of my inaccuracies will only serve to highlight how little I understood of the situation in the first place.

*The Sushi Pimp... sounds like a good idea for a comic book, doesn't it?

Enough of that mess. We have yet another new arrival in Tokushima-- a girl named Melissa from Chicago who has moved in with Kat and Joanna in the Boobie Palace. She'll be working with me and Maz and Kat and Andy out in Kitajima. I've only met her once, but liked her well enough; she's quite high-energy and excited to be here. She's quite tom-boyish in comparison to Kat and Joanna, so it'll be interesting to see how the dynamics at the Palace are affected. I myself am once again thanking my lucky stars that I made the decision to move out on my own-- no offense to the others, but I love having the relative peace and quiet of my own place. (Relative because I can still hear every sniffle and giggle that my next door neighbor makes).

I spent a great day with Satoshi last Thursday; we went out to Bunka No Mori, a park that I visited in the spring with my friend Brian. It was a lovely clear day and the fountains were running. Unfortunately the prefectural library was closed-- too bad, as Satoshi wanted to get some books, and I have heard that there is a decent English section. We walked through part of the park and chatted about this and that, and found ourselves at the fantastic deserted children's playground. We ran around like maniacs for a while, swinging and sliding and scampering. We stopped at the cat temple before leaving. To my delight and heartache, there was a basketfull of kittens alongside the temple gatehouse; a teeny calico came teetering out of the basket to contemplate the enormity of my lap. Of course, I lifted her in and cooed ridiculously to her. Not to be outdone, Satoshi cuddled her stripey brothers, saying "come to daddy," in a high voice that cracked me up. Even though the basket was lined with a blanket and there was a wealth of kitty food nearby, it was a painful parting. Poor little homeless kitties!
We made our way back into town, stopping at an ancient little 'Donkey Bread' shop... something nostalgic that Satoshi hadn't eaten in a good long time. The little old lady inside the shop insisted that we eat inside (and not outside in the sunshine as I was wont to do) and she brought us tea and made conversation with Satoshi. I listened as intently as possible, but only caught little bits of it. The donkey bread was slightly sweet and a little gummy; I liked it, but I imagine it's a bit of an acquired taste. I imagine a Japanese person might have a similar feeling for tortierre pie. Wasn't terribly filling anyhow. By the time we were all the way back in town, I was ravenous, and so we had... katsu... hmmm. I can't remember the name. Fried pork cutlet thingies. The coolest part was that they brought a motar and pestle with sesame seeds for each of us; you grind up the seeds, add some sauce (tatses like HP a little), mix it up, and that's your dip for the pork. It was melt-in-my-mouth fabulous.

I participated in Zazen (Zen Buddhist meditation) that same Thursday evening with Bubu. We went to a temple out in the dark far reaches of Kitajima, at about 7pm. The temple is famous for a ginko tree of enormous girth that grows on the grounds-- it's about 7 meters around, and over 500 years old. The Bishop who runs the temple (an old school friend of Bubu's wife) told me over and over that the tree was famous for it's "big waist". This Bishop is the same one that I met many many months ago at one of Bubu's home parties-- a roly-poly jolly fellow who speaks English in the same way that I speak Japanese-- in fits and starts, and completely without structure... didn't matter. He still managed to get his point across, and I admired him for it. He showed me about the temple as the other practitioners slowly arrived-- all middle-aged women, who seemed to me like your typical hodge-podge of church ladies. There were about ten of us all together. The temple itself was floored in tatami and there was an alcove area with a series of altars leading to the back of the space. The alcove was jam-packed with scrolls and mandalas and lush gold dangles (I touched one surreptuously and was surprised to find it was just gold-coloured plastic). The altars were overflowing with bells and gongs and incense, gifts of food and drink for the Buddha (including potato chips and beer), wilting flowers, books and pamphlets. There were paintings depicting the lineage of the eight great buddhist teachers from the first Buddha in India, to his disciples in China, leading up to number eight, the fellow who brought a reformed version of Buddhism to Japan. (Keep in mind that I haven't done much research on this subject, and most of what I am saying here is pretty patchy.) The mandalas on either side of the altar that was set deepest into the alcove showed the two halves of heart and mind that make up the whole of the Buddha-- the feminine side based on great love, and the masculine side based on great intellect. Around eight o'clock we were all summoned to come sit on our cushions before little scrolls, all identical, set about a foot in front of each cushion. For 20 minutes we were to sit stock-still, looking and meditating only on the image on the scroll. The scroll itself was midnight-blue with a pale moon-circle in the center, about a foot in diameter. In the moon-circle there was a dark-gold coloured kanji character hovering over a lotus blossom. The character (as I understood it) said 'the son of the sun'. I settled in comfortably enough into the seiza posture (sitting with my legs folded underneath me) and stared intently at my scroll as the others droned through a sanskrit chant. The chant ended and the silent meditation began. The uneality of time began to seep in; there was no looking right or left. The only things that were in my field of vision (since I couldn't move) were my scroll, an unoccupied scroll to my right, and a lady and her scroll to my left. My legs began to ache and buzz. I began to think that I was cutting off my circulation permanantly- gangrene would set in! I would never walk again! Should I move? No. I started to accept the situation. Okay. So maybe I would never walk again. But right now, here I am. This is it. This moment is all there is. Okay. The slighty lighter outline of the dark-gold character began to flicker and glimmer a little. The moon-circle was luminous. Then very suddenly, it was all over; the time was up. People stood up, stacked cushions and put away the scrolls, while I sat dazed on the floor, trying to wake up my sleeping legs. I still can't really say what it was I experienced, but it was something new... something to do with a new feeling for the unreality of time as we know it in a day-to-day way. Anyway, after Zazen, the ten of us retreated to room on the side where we ate honeydew melon and mochi sweets and drank green tea, and Bubu regailed the small crowd with the now-familiar story of how he came to know me. The ladies listened politely, asked a few questions, and said the other now familiar things that embarrass me-- isn't she pretty! isn't she clever- she can use chopsticks! what lovely blond hair! look, she can eat Japanese food! The Bishop's ancient mother brought out a box of beer and gave us all a can; as everyone was driving, the beer was tucked into purses and bags. I thought that was pretty funny; it reminded me of how my Granny Endreny used to wrap sweets up in napkins at church teas and smuggle them home for Grandpa.

OK. That's it for today...

Namaste

Endrene

PART II

Well-- suffice it to say, the outcome of my meeting at the sushi shop was less than fantastic. In fact, I know think of my old Sushi Master as the Sushi Pimp. Here's how it went down last Thursday:

I arrived in good time with a box of chocolates for the Master and his wife, as a token of my appreciation for their previous kindnesses. I sat down between the Mama and an older customer; a portly, graying old guy. Assuming I was waiting for the arranged 'date' fellow to arrive, I made polite conversation (to the best of my ability) with the Mama and the customer-- he had just been to the dentist and his cheek was puffed up. I should have clued in more quickly- who wastes good money in a sushi shop with frozen taste buds? It started to slowly dawn me that this greasy old fellow could be the fellow... ice-cold fear trickled into my guts. The Mama wrote down dates-- which date was I free to go on a Date? Still playing dumb, I asked dare desu ka? (with who?). With him, of course. With the guy next to me with the mouth full of crooked yellow gravestones and the glasses as big as coasters. The sukebe oyaji. Oh god, oh no, with him!
I have always been one to err on the side of polite behavior. There have been far too many times in my life where every nerve ending has been humming with the refrain 'get the the hell outta here', but I stayed on in attempt to seem affable and diplomatic. Unfortunately, this was one more of those times. I grinned my terror-stricken grin and chose a date. I kept half hoping that someone would start laughing and say "Ha-ha! Got you En-chan! It's just a joke!" No such luck. I guess I felt that in some way, I could understand the good intentions of the Master and his wife. They must have assumed I was desperate though, to have chosen for me someone older than my own father, someone who couldn't speak any English, someone so absolutely unsuitable. He left shortly after arrangements had been made to his satisfaction, on account of his sore tooth. He dropped a man (about 100$) on the counter in front of me to pay for my dinner-- I tried to refuse it, to give it back-- I was too freaked out to eat anyway-- but the Mama gently but firmly tucked it into my purse. He left and I excused myself from the sushi bar shortly thereafter, bowing and expressing watery thanks for the tea. I made my way home with wobbly legs and my head spinning. What was I going to do? How was I going to get out of it this time? I couldn't ask Bubu-- he had made it very clear once already that I was far too trusting of others. He would be disappointed to know that I had given the sushi Master a second chance, when Bubu had warned me against him. I couldn't ask Miho-- she tells Bubu everything anyway. I can't do it myself-- I'm terrified to go back to the shop. That, and I can't explain my situation sufficiently in Japanese-- how can I politely extract myself? How can I say, "Gee, you know, I really don't think my family would approve of this situation. I don't approve of this situation. Here is your money, thank you, goodbye forever!" Tonight I have a language exchange meeting with my friend Kenji; maybe if I buy him coffee, I can convince him to write me a letter of repeal and apology. No matter how I look at it, I'm going to be changing my bike route to work permanently-- no more passing that sushi shop, thank you very much.

On a positive note, everything else in life is going fairly swimmingly. I had my contract evaluation and got some really positive feedback about my teaching abilities; I can renew my contract if I wish (and I do). I'll have to go by train to some other city to get my visa updated, so that will be an adventure in itself. Let's see... I'll have my art displayed at the Uchimachi culture fair next week, so that will be nice; always good to get a little more artistic exposure wherever I can. Maybe this time I'll actually sell a painting or two... you never know! And on an extremely good note, Satoshi is back in town. I met him almost a year ago when I first arrived. He's a Tokushima guy who has been studying in Adelaide, Australia-- for what? Three years? I dunno. But his English is fabulous, he's super-bright, well-traveled, and just unconventional and funky enough to hold my interest. I didn't really get to know him very well before he left last-- March? and he confessed to me that he had found me to be aloof. I probably was. For one thing, when I was new in town I was overwhelmed with new companions, so I probably didn't pay him too much attention. The other thing was the way he dressed. He didn't get the nickname (sorry Satoshi, now the world will know) 'The Gay Pirate' for nothing! Back in Canada, fancy dress for a guy involves wearing a discreet silver chain with your T-shirt and jeans. It took me some getting used to hanging out with guys who were more colourfully dressed than I was! Guys here are like peacocks, fitted out with the most alarmingly loud clothes and the biggest hair, and a variety of accessories including long necklaces and bracelets and rings. Just today in Uniqlo (the Old Navy of Japan) I saw a braided pink leather belt-- in the Men's section. Anyway, now I've pretty much completely changed my opinion about men's fashion, and I have difficulty remembering what was so great about looking boring. Here's to every purple-jacketed, big-haired, pink-belt-wearing guy in Japan! I love you guys! Keep it up!

The autumn is still dazzling me, and the leaves are still changing with a delicious slowness. One of the best sights has been the kaki (persimmon) trees-- all bare aside from their wealth of shocking orange fruit. I went on the train to Anan a couple of weeks ago on a walking tour and got some really dazzling shots of the coral-coloured fruits against the astonishing blue sky. Christmas has also been creeping in to my consciousness... tacky santa-and-reindeer-and-angel decorations are up all over the place; even the life-size Colonel Sanders statue outside the KFC has been decked out in a Santa Claus outfit. During the week before and after Boy's Day in May he was wearing a samurai costume. I'm beginning to think I can measure the seasons according to Col. Sanders! Got to start writing Christmas cards, I guess...

Namaste

Endrene

Selling my soul for sushi. Yup, that's what I'm doing.

You see, a few months ago, I had a falling out with the Master at my previous favorite sushi restaurant. You may recall that there is a sushi restaurant I used to frequent two big steps across the road from the Boobie Palace where I used to live. Alarmingly convenient. I went there with quite a few friends, and often on my own. It was kind of thrilling to navigate conversations entirely in Japanese, although I often lost the thread, and would get hopelessly lost, nodding and agreeing to God-knows-what. Typically the Mama (the Master's wife) and I would communicate in baby Japanese, big gestures and through other patrons of the shop who could translate a word here and there for me. But the Master himself speaks not a word of English, and doesn't like to slow down his speech or repeat himself, so I had to communicate with him mostly through feeling-- try and sense the gist of things, you know? It was between the Master and I that the most sense of friendship developed, though.
Anyway, one night in there with a girlfriend, I was exaggeratedly explaining my loveless plight, using my few words of Japanese to say I was on a "Boy Hunt" (gyakku nam) and I dramatically made my point by casting my eyes about the sushi bar with a hand shading my eyes like a scout on an expedition, calling out, "Iiiii Otoku? Iiiii Otoku?" (roughly, "nice guys, where are you?"). The Master and the Mama launched into an animated series of plans from which I could only catch bits-- they were going to set me up with a suitable man. It was going to cost me a lot of money. I started to choke on my ika. I was just messing around... I didn't want to actually go on a blind date, especially considering my piss-poor Japanese skills. But they pushed and pushed, and decided it wouldn't cost anything, and I eventually agreed to a Friday meeting. After leaving the restaurant feeling steamrollered, I realized I'd double-booked; I already had plans to go to an onsen with Miho and Kayo. Thank God.
I knew that backing out of the meeting was going to be a messy business, and terribly impolite, so I wasn't looking forward to it. I enlisted Bubu's help to write a letter of humble explanation and apology. I chose one of my favorite small framed artworks from my summer show and packaged it up. I took these things to the shop, and was met with icy disapproval. Although the Mama made happy sounds over my artwork, I was quite obviously a major disappointment to the Master-- being of samurai spirit, he took my word as my word, and was disgusted with my lack of honor. Folks-- backing out of an engagement here is not like it is back home! I left the shop feeling horribly cowed and shameful. I didn't ever want to go back. About a month ago, I finally found a new shop, closer to my new apartment, run by a couple about my parent's age and their handsome son; yay for me. Sushi deprivation problem solved.

Fast forward to today. I'm sleeping in late, sick from some bug I picked up from the sneezy kinders that I give constant high-fives to. My phone rings-- it's local, but it isn't a number I recognize, so I think maybe it's Satoshi, back from studying in Australia... Nope. It's the Master. I'm groggy and confused. Our conversation is 90% "huh? eeeh? wakarimashita? wakarimasen. I don't understand." Something about Today. Now. and then the magic word: maguro. My ears perk up. Tuna. Now? Well, I can't say no to that... and to be honest, despite the convenience of and the good view in the new shop, the Master's shop really is unbeatable. Especially his miso soup... slavering a little, I get dressed, hop on my bike, and ride the three blocks to the shop. I'm also tired of avoiding the shop; I pass it every day going to and from work, so I would invariably speed by, lest I see the Master or the Mama and revisit that shame. I wanted to forgive, and be forgiven.
I arrived to a warm welcome of "hisashi-buri!" (long time no see!) and good god, what a feast! It was just the Master and I, and he fed me as though I was stick-thin and starving. He showed me the place of honor over the door where they had hung my little painting. He talked incessantly, and I was able to catch enough to understand. (And I had wisely brought my dictionary for the first time ever.) It had been too long since I had come to the shop. He didn't want any bad feelings between us. (Here he poured enormous glasses of wickedly-strong shou-chu for the two of us; we clinked and said kampai, while my still-tender stomach flipped in terror). He felt that I had a good heart; I brought good feelings to the shop. My lunch was free; it was 'service'. Did I have free time tonight? Could I meet his friend? Oh god...

To be continued...

It is SO gorgeous outside right now that it is a pure sin to be sitting in this smoky cafe and not out in the liquid golden sunshine. Tokushima is pure colour right now, such that I walked all over downtown today with my eyes glazed over. The air is clear, clear, clear and crisp, and everything growing is rolling over from green to burgundy; shadows are long and violet and periwinkle blue, the mountains are painfully close and richly textured. The lichens on the rock walls are silver and lush, the brown leaves are crisp and rustly. My new favorite shrine was awash in sunshine and shadow, and to add a gut punch to the already shocking loveliness, multicoloured lanterns are strung all the way up the steep stairs-- yellow! pink! blue! orange! green! red! I have no idea what is being celebrated, but I am celebrating too. Maybe it's because the gods came home. Bubu told me that for the entire month of October, all the gods abandon their shrines and go to a meeting at one particular shrine. Which is weird, because in October I stopped at just about every shrine I came across, many more than usual. I thought they seemed a little emptier than usual. I can't tell if I actually felt an additional emptiness at the shrines at the time, or if that's just an emotion I'm projecting onto the memories due to my new-found knowledge. Either way...

Last week I went to Tokushima Zoo with Y and had a pretty good time; I brought my sketchbook, and captured some animals I have never seen before. It's an old-style zoo, such that you can get a little too dangerously close to the animals (with the exception of the bears, wildcats and the elephants). As I was eyeing a lone Japanese goat, I remembered Grandad telling me about the old Game Farm in Kaleden, where I did most of my growing up. (I grew up in Kaleden, not the Game Farm!) The Game Farm was there for years and years-- even when I was in elementary school, sometimes from the playground you could hear the lion roaring distantly. Anyway, before I was born, the fences were similar to those at the Tokushima zoo-- you could get right up close, possibly poke a finger through and touch an animal if you tried. One time a goat or a mountain sheep at the Game Farm rammed the fence, and gored a little girl, killing her. So, they changed all of the fences so that the only animals you could touch were in the children's petting zoo (and the giraffes, who would reach their long necks over the fence to lick you with their black tongues). Anyway, they had to protect the people from their own curiosity and stupidity, and protect the animals from their own innate behaviors. Therefore, at Tokushima Zoo I was surprised by how close you could get to the animals. I was walking through an exhibit, eating an apple, and I'm sure I upset the lesser panda, who stared at me ruefully with her tongue hanging out, and I nearly caused a riot among the ring-tailed coatis. I could have easily reached over and placed my apple into their curious little hands (to see one of these things, check this out) http://www.cotswoldwildlifepark.co.uk/animals/atoz/ring-tailed-coati.htm but I knew better than to do so, as it could upset their digestion or make them sick somehow. I hurried out of the exhibit and finished my apple quickly. I have to wonder how long it will be before the zoo changes radically... I was pretty shocked and embarrassed by Y's behavior. First he walked into an out-of bounds area in the tropical bird aviary to shake a tall pole that several birds of paradise were resting on-- this caused them to freak out and squawk and flap crazily, disturbing all of the other birds. A zoo staff member came in and cast his eyes about accusingly, stopping on me, the only foreigner in there. Not wanting to get kicked out of the zoo for something I didn't want to have any part of, I high-tailed it out of there. Next, Y had brought an orange in his pocket, which he teasingly held out to every group of primates, then tucked back into his pocket. Their hairy arms came shooting through the bars, and the look of palpable hope and longing shifting to hurt outrage was so human, that I refused to walk anywhere near Y. I was pretty upset by his cruelty. So-- I have mixed feelings about zoos. I think they're great for educating people, and encouraging us to respect all species. But I also have to wonder about quality of life, and who it is that really deserves to be behind bars. As for Y and retribution... in the petting zoo, there was a monkey aviary, packed with agile little guys leaping through the trees and eating bugs and fruit. As I was bending over to look at one, another monkey jumped onto my back to sit there and eat his bit of mango-- I was surprised by his feather-lightness. The monkey-guard lady nodded her assent. All of a sudden, Y was set upon by three at once, including the 'bite monkey' who was marked with a little orange ear tag. The monkey guard shooed them off excitedly, and Y booked it out of there, while I stayed for an extra ten minutes, enjoying the antics of my tree-top friends. Unfortunately, the 'bite monkey' didn't bite, but I've got faith in karma.

The night of Bani's leaving party (last Sunday) was a wild, weird one. As I started riding my bike home from Kitajima in the dark, I was struck by the enormousness of the full moon, and the odd fact that it had a huge misty ring encircling it. Then in the distance, I was amazed to see a gigantic towering cloudbank, flashing with silent lightening. It was like an Olympian stage, set for a dangerous parable. I stopped at the first bridge to stare at this strange dichotomy-- simultaneous full moon and threatening skies-- and looked down in the water to see the surface swarming with huge dark fish that I have never seen before. I started to get really creeped out, and spooked myself for the rest of the ride home, thinking about omens and paranormal phenomena. I wasn't sure I should go to the party. But I did. And it was a blast! So many people came to see Bani off. We started at Root Down and Norm made him the freaking biggest burger I have ever seen in my life. We drank and caroused and eventually moved on to Ingrid's where I drank one too many gin-and-sodas and sang a lot of middling karaoke. I sat for a while leaning my head on Bani's chest, telling him not to go, although I already knew very well that he had made a wise choice based on an inner knowing. When the time has come, and you've got all the signals to go, you'd be a fool to stay. So, good for you Bani! Good luck in Australia. As for the omens-- well, it didn't rain frogs, and the earth didn't shake, but MAN, did I have a headache the next day...