All Posts from the Daily life Category
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Beach follies
Yesterday was our first officially sanctioned Family Trip to the Beach, which seems worth a post of its own seeing as it’s been such a struggle to get there.
Unfortunately it was low tide so the beach was half empty of water. You can see the waterline on the breakwaters. It was also a bit murky, whereas normally the water is crystal clear and inviting.
Incidentally those breakwaters may seem a bit namby-pamby but the Japanese are not known for their swimming skills (which seems odd for an island nation with the population clinging to the coastline). And we think they’re great, given that the memory of seeing our two kids swept out to sea by a rogue rip just last year is still fresh in the mind.
My favourite bit of the beach is the line of vine-covered shelters up the back. You can see them on the right here:
I’m not very good in the sun so it’s great to have a bit of shade to escape to. Of course, this being Japan, there are vending machines stationed at regular intervals dispensing ice-cold drinks. The only thing missing is an ice-cream vending machine. Yes, they do have them; there’s one at the soccer ground where Felix trains on Saturday mornings with 16 different flavours.
And this being Japan, the beach also has loudspeakers blaring out music all day long. That is, all day long during the official beach opening hours from 8:30 in the morning through to five at night. I know this because I can hear the music starting up from my office window, several hundred metres away up the hill. It’s that loud. I think the authorities, when they designed this man-made beach, decided that it would be not just a nice stretch of coastline for swimming but a proper beach resort with amenities such as showers and vending machines. And piped music. (The other day when Eleni and I went for a swim, guess what was coming out of the speakers? Beach sound effects such as waves crashing and seagulls cawing. To add to the experience, presumably. You gotta laugh.)
This being Japan, the loudspeakers are naturally used to discharge regular announcements at deafening volume welcoming us all to the beach and reminding us of the rules, such as not climbing all over the breakwaters, not lighting barbeques, swimming safely and taking your rubbish home. From four o’clock onwards at ten-minute intervals there are more announcements alerting us to the fact that the beach is about to “close” and encouraging us to start packing up and going home.
To me, the loudspeakers neatly symbolise the Japanese love for information bombardment. Despite what we Westerners might like to believe about rock gardens and Zen minimalism, the Japanese (particularly those in positions of authority with loudspeakers at their disposal) seem to believe that “more is better” rather than “less is more.” A look at any typical Japanese website (like this one) will show you what I mean.
The Japanese are constantly being bombarded with information. Constant announcements on the trains. (In Tokyo, where there’s a station every few minutes, the announcements basically never stop.) Endless tape loops shouting out from the shelves in the department stores. Guys with megaphones at any public event involving more than, say, 20 people. And how about those Big Brother loudspeakers that are stationed in every town and village throughout the nation blaring out announcements, usually early on Sunday mornings, such as the one at 7:30 this morning reminding us all to vote in the election. As a result the locals have acquired an innate ability to just shut it out. I think this is a key requisite for anyone planning to live in Japan for any length of time. Either that or a massive stock of earplugs.
To finish off with: we had Mr. Nishihara and his wife to dinner last night for a barby. The Nishiharas brought these dinky little fold-out tables. It was highly convivial although I still didn’t get the coals going properly and managed to burn the eggplant slices, while the onion was so black that it didn’t even make it to the table. Oh how we all laughed.
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Family visit
I’ve got my mum and two older sisters visiting at the moment. They’ve only been here four days but already we’ve packed in a punishing schedule:
• On Thursday, I picked them up at lunchtime and took them straight up good old Mt. Fudekageyama, the one where I took all those photos of sunrise and cherry blossoms.
• On Thursday night we tried to go out for a meal of — what else — okonomiyaki, but the local restaurant was closed so we ended up going to a nearby place that turned out to serve tasty cheap food and is our new favourite restaurant. I love it when that happens.
• On Friday Ruby got to take the day off school to open her birthday presents (including a pair of headphones with microphone for the iPod which unleashes the potential for a whole new swag of apps that involve singing, such as the Glee auto-harmonizer; Ruby could be heard warbling in the background for the rest of the day) and then, seeing as it was such a lovely hot day, we all went down to test out the local beach. In the afternoon I took the visitors for a spin down the coast to visit my cafe of the moment Cafe Hoxton and take in Ye Olde Townne of Takehara which has a very well-preserved Old Bit. We stumbled across it quite by accident when we were driving through Takehara one day but had to hurry back home for some reason that escapes me, and I had been looking forward for some months to exploring the area at a more leisurely pace, so it was the perfect opportunity to do just that.
• Friday night was the official birthday dinner for Ruby at the local onsen. The mother of one of Ruby’s friends works there and had arranged a surprise in the form of a chocolate cake, so we feasted on dinner and cake while gazing out at the views of the inland sea. Highly convivial.
• On Saturday morning I took Felix to soccer practice which as luck would have it is just near a rather fine temple complex called Buttsuji (the kids think this name is hilarious; can’t imagine why). I like this place not so much for the temple but because it’s in a lovely shady mountain patch with a stream running through it that is reminiscent of the Dandenongs back in Melbourne (only with more Kulture, obviously). I forgot to take any pictures but this photo shows my favourite part of the complex where you walk along next to the lanterns.
• On Saturday afternoon I took my two sisters (mother having officially retired hurt with a sore foot) on the ferry over to Ikuchijima, the next island across from here, to see Kosanji temple (two temples in the same day; that’s a record for me) which features, among other things, a huge expanse of imported Italian marble from Carara including hills and pathways and all manner of weird and wonderful sculptures. Once again, we’d visited it months before with the kids but hadn’t had time to check it out properly. The marble is just the craziest thing: in this unprepossessing town on a tiny island in southern Japan there’s this enormous white world of stone. What on earth was that monk thinking? Still, it’s an experience, and there’s even a cafe made out of marble which we duly visited. Inside there was a genuine espresso machine and I had high hopes of a decent cafe latte but tragically it was not to be.
• On Saturday night we eventually satiated our desire for okonimiyaki. All agreed that it was the best food in the world in space and that my description of it was not at all over the top. Or not much, at any rate.
• On Sunday we took the visitors down to Onomichi which has lots of temples and culture, although they ended up spending most of the morning wandering through the local shopping arcade, the one where Felix and I had the bunsen burner coffee last week. At lunchtime we watched Felix play soccer combined with mud-wrestling, then for lunch we went to our favourite sushi place, the one where if you place an order the little plates come out to you on a special Shinkansen train. We ordered a whole lot of things that were already circulating on the conveyor belt, just so we could show our visitors the special train. (Also you get fresher sushi that way, since they have to make it right then and there. Although if you tried this on too often I suspect the chefs might be tempted to spit quietly on your plate before sending it out.)So it’s been an action-packed four days that’s for sure. The wonderful thing about having visitors is that you get to go to places that the kids are bored with, such as Mt Fudekageyama (the mere mention of it brings groans of disapproval), Takehara (even worse) and Buttsuji (smirks plus disapproval). Plus there are the inevitable serendipitous discoveries along the way, such as the local restaurant that turned out to be quite good. (I often remember fondly how we went on the Tram Restaurant in Melbourne once when we had Japanese friends to visit. We would probably never have done it otherwise. It may be the height of dagginess but it’s actually great fun.)
And tomorrow we’re off on the ferry for an all-day island-hopping jaunt in the Eggbeater. The action just never stops here at Sunami-by-the-sea…
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Here comes the rain again
The rainy season is officially here. (Having said that, as I type this it’s a lovely warm day with hardly a cloud in the sky but according to the news it’s officially on.)
The rainy season began in style with a decent belt of rain that began yesterday morning and continued all day right through Felix’s two matches, as a result of which he got soaked to the skin and covered in mud, which of course he thought was excellent fun. Apparently the rainy season is not like the good old days when a delightful light drizzle fell continuously for about a month. These days, what with global warming ‘n’ that, it’s all sudden rainstorms followed by clear days which is most disconcerting for old-timers. However one thing’s for certain: there’ll be lots of rain comes things will get humid and sticky.
Already on my daily walks across the mountain (Eleni having abandoned me for the more sedate pace of her middle-aged lady friends who get together at 8:30 in the morning) I’m noticing the extra added humidity in the air. The good news is that our local beach just five minutes’ walk down the road is remarkably clean and nice. We tested it out last Friday. Although it was roasting hot, there was virtually nobody else there, presumably because the beach has not been officially opened yet: the formal beach opening ceremony, with the mayor coming down and everything, is not until July 3. In the meantime I trust we won’t get prosecuted under local by-laws for swimming without the mayor’s consent.
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Weekend wrap
Hello all, and here is the news.
Ruby has mid-term exams coming up and has assigned herself a gruelling study schedule over the next couple of weeks, including regular breaks for tapping furiously on the iPod and downloading new episodes of Glee. So on account of the revision regime she and Eleni stayed home on Saturday morning while I took Felix to soccer practice. The soccer ground they use on Saturdays is a little way out of town in the countryside and surrounded by fields. While Felix is busy at practice Eleni and I normally take the opportunity to go for a highly convivial walk in the fields. It really is a lovely spot out there.This week I noticed, in a city slicker sort of way, that it must be planting season — the planting machines and the trays of seedlings sort of gave it away.
On Saturday afternoon we found out by chance about the Satsuki festival on at the local arts and culture center (called Poporo; who on earth thought of that name?) so we headed down to have a look. It wasn’t an ancient traditional culture type festival so much as a string of performances by local band/music/choir/rock groups, plus a flea market, together with the regulation line of food and drink stalls. At the flea market Felix and I spotted an enormous remote control Mothra toy [Mothra is a classic Japanese monster from the same stable as Godzilla. Check out the 1961 trailer below. Fast forward to 1:30 for views of Mothra.]
Tragically the Mothra toy cost about $200 so we had to pass, but it was in any case a lovely day for the festival: low 20s and sunny. Before too long it will be low 30s and oppressively humid so we have to make the most of the good weather. I took a photo of the main stage, although it looks a bit small and pathetic from so far back. But I’ve included it here just to show off that Poporo roof, which looks as if a giant metal Mothra might burst out at any moment.
This morning (Sunday) we headed down to Onomichi, a small town about half an hour down the road, to witness Eleni’s debut peformance of wadaiko (Japanese drumming). She’s been practicing every Wednesday with her new best friends down at the local community center and today was their first hitout with Eleni in the group. Here they are in full flight:
The performance was for a volunteer organisation which hosts exchange students in Japan. Afterwards they gave all the students a go and invited our two to join in as well. Felix was up there like a shot but Ruby was unable to take part, being too cool for that sort of thing.
At lunchtime we went for a walk through picturesque Onomichi. In a couple of weeks my two sisters and mother are coming to town, so we’re busy checking out interesting places to take them. We’d actually been to Onomichi a few months ago and wandered along the seaside section of town, and I remembered being singularly unimpressed. But it turns out that all the picturesque stuff is up in the hills BEHIND the town, silly me. You catch the cable car up the hill and wander around these cute little winding paths in the hillside admiring the trees scenery temples cherry blossoms sea views etc etc. There are even a couple of little cafes tucked in amongst the culture, and near the cable car station at the top of the hill is a shop selling ice-creams with flavours such as green tea and black sesame (sounds weird but actually delicious). So now I rate Onomichi quite highly; the black sesame ice-cream in particular is worth bringing the family for.
When we got home I did a bit of mowing with our shiny new push-along lawn mower:
I’m not quite sure why but I’ve always wanted one of these. Now, finally, I have realised my life’s ambition: a push-along lawn mower. Just like Dave Sullivan.
And finally, Felix and I finished off the weekend in style with a visit to the local onsen. That’s our third visit now, but our first time on the left-hand side. Men and women are segregated (obviously) and they swap the sides daily; our last two visits were on odd days so we were on the right-hand side, but today was an even day so we got to try the left-hand side. Verdict: more massage spots, better views, but smaller selection of baths. On balance, we prefer the right-hand side.
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Ruby offered to do the washing up
Yes, that’s right: Ruby actually offered to do the washing up tonight. Of her own free will!
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Sleep
Back when I lived in Tokyo during the early 90s, I used to regard the Japanese as somehow superhuman. For a start, there was the economic miracle: how did a country so devastated by war manage to become an economic and technological powerhouse in a few short decades? Then there was the uncanny ability of Japanese commuters to fall asleep on the train (and I’m not talking eyes-shut-and-looking-relaxed asleep, I mean full-on, dribble-coming-out-of-the-mouth, head-lolling-on-your-shoulder type asleep) yet still wake up on cue at the right station and bolt off the train. Plus there was the thousands of years of history and culture. Rich country, massive population, advanced technology, lots of customs and rituals and rules and shared understandings. Everything has its place, everything works properly, the trains all run on time. To a young impressionable type from the Antipodes, it seemed that the Japanese had life totally worked out.
So it’s been nice this time around to be here as a family, putting the kids in school, filling in the forms and reading the notices and doing all the mundane everyday stuff, and finally discovering that not everything works properly, that the Japanese make mistakes too, that despite the history and culture and food and everything they haven’t actually got life totally worked out after all. Yes! They’re just like us, trying to do the best they can in this crazy mixed-up world in which we live in [Paul McCartney].
But just when I was starting to believe that the Japanese are mere mortals, it turns out that there is still one area where they’re super-human, and that’s sleep. The kids here somehow manage to get by on less sleep than seems right. Felix’s normal bed-time of 8 pm, for instance, is absolutely laughable; none of his friends would be in bed before 9, many of them later still. And yet every person I speak to—teachers especially, but parents too—will decry the trend towards later bedtimes. The other day we were given an official government pamphlet that urges children to get more sleep. Apparently 57% of Year 6 kids go to bed after 10 pm on weeknights, while a mere 6% get to bed before 9 pm. Somehow I think that pamphlet’s been wasted on us.
I remember grappling with this very issue back in Italy, where they also put their kids to bed late, but at least the Italians have a valid excuse: the afternoon siesta. Whereas here in Japan, the kids are trained to stay up late and survive on less sleep as part of the legendary toughening up process. Or is it that we misguided Westerners have trained our kids to be too sleep dependent, putting them to bed ridiculously early for years on end until their pathetic soft bodies start to think that they actually need that much rest? Perhaps it’s a bit of both. In any case, it’s clear that we’ll need to work on our two if they are to survive the next couple of years without collapsing in a heap at some point.
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Weekend wrap
Hello all. Sorry this weekend wrap is coming to you on a Tuesday; it was delayed by Technical Problems with the mega-floppy-bits at the server. Happily these have been fixed by Steve the wonder guru back in Australia, and I am now able to bring you the following riveting information.
We had a friend to stay last week. Kuniko is Japanese but has lived in Australia for about the last 20 years and thus is able to offer an interesting perspective on the two countries that we know so well. The first thing we did after she arrived on Thursday afternoon was to whisk her off for a meal of–what else–okonimiyaki.
As part of my ongoing search for a decent coffee in Mihara, on Friday morning we headed down to a funky jazz-inspired cafe by the sea called Cafe Hoxton. The coffee wasn’t that great (I really should abandon my quest for the holy grail about now) but it did sport some rather excellent Coffee Art on top:
On Friday night the girls went down to the local hot springs (except Ruby, who for some reason still steadfastly refuses to get naked with strangers) before Kuniko headed back on Saturday morning. So in two and a bit days I think we adequately covered the three key cultural highlights of Mihara: food, sea views and hot water.
Saturday was a big day for soccer. First of all I drove Ruby in to Sanfrecce soccer practice, which we don’t normally do because it’s an hour away. I couldn’t resist the opportunity to get a photo of the matching purple buses that take the girls to their games of a weekend:
Felix came along for the ride and managed to ingratiate himself into the practice session as a goalie:
After that we headed over to Felix’s soccer practice at Mihara UFC. This week was the annual Parents vs Kids match which was great fun for all concerned, and the parents would have thrashed the U10 kids had not a certain father let in a few too many goals (although I maintain that it made the game more even and therefore more interesting).
On Sunday morning we were meant to take part in the local clean-up day organised by our neighbourhood committee, to which I had duly promised to contribute only to have to cancel at the last minute when an impromptu soccer match was organised by Felix’s team. I mean, pulling out weeds for two and a half hours isn’t really my idea of fun on a Sunday morning, and you’re permitted to pay ¥1500 ($16) and officially squib out that way, but I felt a bit bad all the same. Particularly as the head lady came around afterwards to give us our gift for taking part (a bag of chips or something) when we didn’t actually take part… is that a sort of punishment via reverse psychology?
At lunchtime we went to see a concert by the local brass band, called the Poporo Junior Orchestra or PJO for short. (Kinda snappy isn’t it? By the way, the local culture center and concert hall is called Poporo. Nobody knows why.) This is because we thought it might be good for Ruby to have a proper place to play her saxophone other than the school band, where half the girls are still trying to convince her to give up the saxophone because it’s not a wind instrument. So we went for a squiz at a PJO practice session last week and guess what: (a) it turns out that some of the girls from the school band (the nice ones) are in the PJO too, and (b) it looks like fun and Ruby and Felix both want to join, and furthermore (c) they need a bass player and I am seriously considering it. Yes! Aging rock god lured out of retirement for ONE MORE ASSIGNMENT. Don’t you love the storyline, there’s a film in it for sure. But I figure it could be fun playing a few swing band jazz lines. May need to dye my hair grey for authenticity. Anyway Yusuke has lent me a bass and I found a dinky little Vox practice amp in the local guitar shop for the very reasonable price of ¥7000 (new) so it seems the planets are in alignment on this one.
To finish off the weekend we hosted Yusuke and family at our Second Ever Barbeque on Sunday afternoon. I managed to get the coals going nice and early but still burnt the food, although perhaps not quite so badly as last time. I’m confident that my coal-fired technique is improving and we should be onto edible food sometime before the evil rainy season arrives in June and barbeque plans are suspended until further notice.
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Our car
Our tiny car is officially called a Suzuki Wagon R 2000 model, but we’ve christened it the Eggbeater after the sound it makes when it’s beetling along the freeway at 100 (note to Japanese police: “beetling along at 100″ is just a figure of speech. Of course we wouldn’t dream of exceeding the pathetic 80 km speed limit by that much.)
The Eggbeater is what’s known variously as light, microlight or just “small car” in Japan. Small cars get tons of concessions like lower taxes, cheaper freeway charges and smaller bills for the compulsory biannual inspection. Even the car wash gives you a ¥100 discount! The Eggbeater is certainly compact but we can all fit in, plus there’s even space for a bag or two in the back.
Amazingly, the Eggbeater only has three gears—just like our 1962 vintage car at home. Fancy that: 40 years of technological progress, in the land of technology no less, and it’s still got just the three gears.
And how big is the engine under that tiny little bonnet, I hear you ask? Er, 650 cc. I’m told there are motorbikes with engines twice as big. Now you know why it sounds like an eggbeater, struggling up the hills with four lumbering great foreigners on board. It’s getting on too, is our Eggbeater; ten years old makes it almost vintage in Japan, where the punitive roadworthy regime effectively forces old cars off the road, but we only need it to hold out for two years. Just two more years, that’s all we ask.
Now I remember being told at my marketing course last year that women are better at reading prose while men are better at digesting lists. True to type, I love a good bullet-point list. So at the risk of being branded a misogynist, here is a list of random facts about driving in Japan.
• They drive on the left-hand side and the steering wheel is on the right—just like in Australia.
• Traffic lights are generally horizontal rather than vertical.
• There are only ever a couple of traffic lights at an intersection, at least around here. This can lead to the situation where you’re approaching an unfamiliar intersection, assuming that it doesn’t have signals, only to spot one at the last minute cunningly concealed on the far side. And what’s more, it’s red. Better chuck on the brakes.
• Speed limits are ridiculously low: 80 km/h on the freeway, 50 km/h on main roads, 30 km/h along local streets. Nobody takes much notice of the speed limits though; everyone goes around at about 10 or 20 km above the advertised speed. Which makes it particularly frustrating when you get stuck behind some person who insists on sticking to the limit. Let alone a farmer in a tiny tray-truck going at 30 km/h on a nice open country road, but at least you can generally overtake in the countryside.
• The traffic lights on the road to Sunami generally just flash yellow all the time on the main road and flash red (meaning Give Way) at the side roads. Some of them switch off altogether after about 11 at night. This means that you effectively get an uninterrupted run along the beach all the way home. What a great idea!
• There’s no such thing as on-street parking in Japan. The roads are thin and even when there’s two lanes, they’re both reserved for driving. Every shop and every house, every supermarket and bank, they all have to have parking spots. If you want to go to a shop that doesn’t have its own parking, then you have to find the nearest car park. The same if you want to visit a friend who hasn’t got a spare spot. Thankfully there are always plenty of car parks around although you have to pay, even in sleepy Mihara.
• The taxi drivers here are as bad as anywhere else. Already we’ve nearly crashed a couple of times into taxis that just pull out in front of fast-moving traffic like, like, I don’t know, like bloody taxi drivers.
And to finish with, here’s my favourite traffic light.
Look closely… what do you notice? It’s a red light… but you’re permitted to turn left, or turn right, or indeed continue straight ahead. Presumably the only thing you’re not allowed to do is to reverse into the car behind you. Which I figure I don’t really need a traffic light to tell me.
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Muzza’s Dei
Readers outside Japan will be pleased to know that Mother’s Day, like Christmas Day, is very much celebrated here in the land of the rising sun: the retail industry isn’t going to pass up a good marketing opportunity when it sees one.
For Mother’s Day we decided to go back to that big park near Hiroshima Airport (the one we discovered by accident back in March, as described in this post) for a bit of a cycling adventure. After stocking up on some of those fabulous supermarket bento boxes for a picnic, we headed off to the park and rented four bicycles for the 12 km circuit. They make you wear helmets and under the helmets you have to wear disposable head-tissue-thingies:
It was like pedalling around on top of the world, with spectacular views opening up at regular intervals. The riding trail seems to be have been made by joining together a whole lot of old roads that are now closed to traffic. The only downside (or upside, technically) was the hills: great when you’re careening downhill, but there were some pretty gruelling upward slopes. The Teenage Princess in particular was not too impressed and had to be coaxed up virtually every hill. We think she may be in need of some fitness training. Too much white rice has slowed her down.
It turns out there are hardly any planes at tiny provincial Hiroshima Airport so it was a very peaceful ride. And because the airport has been built on top of a mountain, there’s this little bit where the runway guide lights extend out into space:
Ruby actually asked me whether the planes go out on that orange thing and then shoot off the end. That was right near the end after all the hills; she was pretty tired I suppose.
We finished up at a lovely spot for our picnic overlooking the runway:
If you look reeeeeeeeally closely you can see a bit of a plane on the tarmac down below. Sorry about my knee there on the right.
By the time we had done all those hills we were very hot and sweaty, including our heads, which made me realise that the pathetic head coverings were probably a very good idea after all. I don’t think I’d want to strap on a helmet impregnated with the sweat of a thousand cyclists before me.
Back home at last, Felix and I decided to finish off the day in style with another trip to the local onsen (hot springs), this time during daylight hours so we could admire the view. In the past I’ve never been able to admire the view at scenic onsens because I figure I have to take my glasses off. Apart from the fact that they’d get all wet and foggy inside the bathhouse, there’s the feeling that one shouldn’t really be taking one’s glasses into a room full of naked men—surely it invites the reaction WHADDYOU PERVING AT MATE? But today, for the first time, I actually saw a guy wearing his glasses in, so I figure it must be OK after all. Hooray, another cultural barrier torn down, now I can enjoy the views at last.
Unless of course he was a pervert.
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Golden Week
Golden Week is like the Japanese equivalent of Easter, only without the eggs, the crass commercialism and the religion bit. OK, it’s nothing like Easter. It’s just a string of national holidays stitched together rather magnanimously by the government in order to create a decent holiday period at the end of April (for those who are interested, the official explanation of Golden Week is here).
Thursday April 29 was a holiday to commemorate the birth of Emporer Showa. Ruby had a soccer match down at Hiroshima but Eleni had some work on, so Felix and I headed down on the freeway to try out our shiny new e-tag device (which we purchased at great expense last month, only to discover that the government has just changed the laws and you don’t need one any more).Friday was a normal day, as only the truly generous schools/companies give their students/minions this day off as well. At five o’clock we all went into town as usual to drop Ruby off on her train to soccer practice. Her friend didn’t turn up so for the first time ever we sent her off to a faraway place all on her own with instructions to sit in a carriage with plenty of other passengers etc etc. Another milestone in the Letting Go process.
The three of us then went out for a meal of okonomiyaki, possibly the best food in the world in space, then indulged in a bit of Mihara nightlife, i.e. standing on the Shinkansen platform and watching them zoom past at 250 km/h.
OK so it doesn’t look that exciting on mobile phone video, but Felix loves it and it’s good for half an hour or so. Besides, there aren’t any cinemas in Mihara.
After all that excitement, Saturday was low-key. In the afternoon we all headed up to Fuchu, about an hour away in the mountains, for a practice match organised by Ruby’s Sanfrecce team. Eleni in particular was keen to go not only for the Family Drive in the Mountains aspect but also to revisit the excellent ¥100 shop just near the soccer ground that we discovered last time we were there.
On Sunday we invested in a barbeque at the local Chaddy and had some guests around for dinner. Japanese barbeques are nice and small and you use charcoal not gas; none of this quadruple burner with lid and separate gas ring business.However you do need to have your wits about you and get the charcoal going early (Daddy Mistake No. 1), have enough hot coals to cook everything properly (Daddy Mistake No. 2) and ensure an even distribution so that the things in the middle don’t burn to a blackened crisp (Daddy Mistake No. 3).
So we ended up eating a fair bit of charcoal on Sunday night, but it’s all part of the learning process and the next BBQ will be that much better.
Monday and Tuesday were our Big Trip Away. Golden Week is legendary for massive freeway congestion as the entire nation attempts to head out of the city and back to their ancient ancestral homes in the country. Over the weekend I was smirking as I listened to reports of 50-kilometre snarls and trains and planes booked to capacity out of Tokyo. That was, until we got caught in a beauty of our own just before lunch on Monday: only 15 km long according to the signs, but real bumper-to-bumper stuff, so that it took well over an hour to inch forward about 10 kilometres. Adding to the excitement was the fact that we were getting perilously low on petrol. 27 km to the next fuel stop seemed reasonable at the time, but there’s no better way to use up juice than travelling in first gear. We managed to make it to an exit and quickly hurtled down through the hills searching desperately for a servo like Mel in Mad Max 2. And ended up in a very picturesque city deep in a valley called Takahashi which was so nice we decided to come back some other time for a holiday, so it was all worth it in the end. Sort of.
The real purpose of the freeway experience was to spend a couple of days in Niimi, which is the family home of Sweden (nobody knows how he got this nickname), the guitarist from The Moment, the band I used to play in back in the Tokyo days, whose lead singer of course is none other than Yusuke, our man in Mihara. Incidentally Sweden, who is Japanese, now lives in France.
Niimi is a tiny hamlet of perhaps 30 houses tucked away in a fold of the hills and accessible only by a tiny mountain road. It really seems like the place that time forgot. This photo doesn’t really do it justice:
We stayed in Sweden’s mum and dad’s creaky old farmhouse together with a couple of other families. Altogether there were 17 of us and the futons were thick on the ground in the big communal tatami rooms that are typical of traditional houses. In the afternoon the kids played out on the roads:
while I went down to inspect the farming operations.
I even hoed a row of my own! (photo not available)
On the next day we headed down to the local fishing festival at a nearby town. Now the Sushi on a Stick household is not normally the slightest bit interested in fishing, and I for one was feeling rather ambivalent about it all, but in the end it was a great event. They’d blocked off sections of the river and stacked them with fish that apparently hadn’t been fed for a few days (cruel I know). So the fish were literally jumping onto the hooks and all of us managed to catch a few; even the cynical nearly-a-teenager enjoyed herself.
After all the fish had given themselves up, there was another event especially for primary school age kids, where a smaller pool over the other side of the bridge had been stacked with yet more fish and the kids had to grab them with their bare hands in a frenzy of screaming and splashing that lasted for about ten minutes solid. Felix ended up with a catch of three or four, some of which he scooped up in his hat; needless to say it now smells rather fishy.
We all piled back to the farmhouse and cooked up thousands of fresh fish on the barbeque and ate them for lunch.
For the return trip we decided to avoid the freeways until the evening and kill some time at none other than beautiful Takahashi where there is a castle, a Ye Olde bit of town complete with samurai residences, and an excellent mini-Chaddy where Ruby bought some jeans and she and Felix discovered one of those dance games where you have to tap your feet in time with the arrows on the screen and it boos you if you don’t do it properly. A bargain at only ¥100 per game.
We even managed to track down a nice restaurant that served soba noodles (tragically hard to find in Mihara; everyone eats udon around here) which made me very happy.
And readers will be pleased to know that there were no traffic jams on the way back, heaven be praised. So that’s it for Golden Week for this year. I’m exhausted.
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This blog is about the adventures of a family of Australian barbarians spending two years in the islands of southern Japan. Stay tuned for regular updates on the food, the culture, the earthquakes, the wacky festivals, the school system and more. 
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