See FB for photos
An incredible evening. Ex-tempura chef Masan (is there anything the man hasn't done?) set up shop on a low table with a deep frying pan of oil, a bowl of batter and 10 or so small piles of vegetables, pork and prawns, pushing the boat out in my honour. For as long as it took to fry around 200 or so tempura he worked without a break. Meanwhile I got to wear the birthday hat; sat on a chair; slurped my way loudly through noodle soup, thereby showing my appreciation; had delicious tempura, then a wonderful cake made by Rie almost entirely from derivatives of rice. When they handed me a hand-made card and gift - a very special kind of incense used in the temples - it was all too much: I burst into tears. There was comic relief when the children improvised on the spot, handing me presents from Kanta's birthday last week! And then they thanked me for being there with them on this special day. Incredible.
Tomorrow I'll be spending 48 hours in some tourist-trap villages an hour or so away. So time to repack a few things and ?? chill... ??
24 September 2014
23 September 2014
birthday bamboo survival
Photos on FB
I won't forget this birthday! - as a guinea pig in a dry run of a "survival day" Masan is organising later in the year. He wanted to see what we could create using local materials to filter water, cook, make chopsticks and bowls, a pit toilet, and to fuel the ancient old bath tub - and have our daily bath outdoors.
Expecting to be led into the jungle and left to our own devices I was mildly surprised when we headed down the tarmac to a piece of forest slap by the Nakatsugawa road (owned by a friend of Masan's). Felling 4 chunky bamboo trees, trimming them and hauling them back to the house reminded me of my conservation-volunteer days - except that we had no tool-safety talk, and some of the tools were in a frightening state of disrepair! It was a fun morning, and I was amazed by the versatility of bamboo, e.g. that it's hollow, and the horizontal stripes correspond to internal "walls". By sawing either side of two stripes we had instant "long bowls"; sawing close to one stripe gave a mini bowl. A longer length, with two chambers could be placed in the fire vertically, with vegetables in the upper compartment and water in the bottom; holes gauged in the chamber wall between the two allowed the tube to act as a steamer. Meanwhile, three lengths of bamboo, with a lid cut into the central chamber, could form a rIce "baker" when placed in the fire. All this, and some potatoes baked in foil, made a very tasty meal, perfectly cooked. It would have been even better if one of the 3 bakers hadn't rolled into the fire, spreading rice and water everywhere! But I'm learning restraint so when asked, "Have you eaten enough?" I said, "Yes".
Alas, the antique bath tub let us down: it wasn't watertight. So we ended the survival "day" after lunch. Although "just" lighting the fire to heat the water for the communal bath is now looking like a soft option, I'd give anything to be able to jump straight into one now! Rain is sloshing down and, although my digestive system is loving the low-meat, no-sugar, no-dairy diet, my knees and back are challenged by kneeling for every meal. But I'm cheered by the promise of birthday tempura for supper. So a very special day.
in the paddy and a drunken tug of war
Images of last 24 hours on FB
Yesterday's lion dance at the local village autumn celebration was distinctly underwhelming - though it was only when visiting woofer/friend-of-the-family Sunnei voiced how tedious she had found it that I dared to admit the same! The lion proceeded at snail's pace through the village, amid a circle of fire braziers held by half a dozen or so, to a pavilion at the top of the village. What had started as a simple folk procession then seemed to assume weighty religious significance: after the lion had "danced" (about which the less said the better), two priest-like dignitaries received and placed on the altar a long succession of offerings to welcome the gods. Finally - though we left before it had finished - the assembled officials paid their respects: an elaborate choreography of bows and claps. Phew.
Back at the house the celebration continued in a rather surprising way: an array of junk food including the most disgusting plastic capsules of fish fused with cheese. Happy autumn!
Today, thanks to Sunnei, several jigsaw pieces have fallen into place. I'm beginning to understand why verbs don't conjugate: the individual counts for so much less; whether it's me, you or them isn't the point. Sunnei even said that the western emphasis on "I think x, I think y..." can even be quite jarring. And when I asked what the Japanese was for "Please could you pass me the..." I was told "Kudasai...", which I know means "I would like...". In other words, simply saying the latter is enough; the Japanese tune in so readily to each other that someone's wish becomes their command.
As we worked together weed-managing (I can't say "weeding" as we leave the root in place - probably just as well as much of it looks suspiciously like the dreaded Japanese knotweed) we chatted about relationships and the differences between the frontier north, Hokkaido, where Sunnei is from, and the more traditional south where arranged marriage is still common. But even for Sunnei the individual is less important than the family. I'm not quite sure where this leaves her - a modern girl trying to make it as an acupuncturist and body worker but struggling because she isn't state-licenced. It's a weirdly familiar but different situation. You can only practice as a body worker if you do the amma style of massage (reserved for blind workers) or if you have a fully state-recognised acupuncture qualification, which is a very expensive training. So she supplements her living doing admin jobs.
I also discovered that Rie is an ex-restaurant macro-biotic chef, and artist. And Masan was an environmental and museum-exhibitions consultant. Tiens tiens...
After lunch we returned to the village shrine to watch a different kind of procession. In contrast to yesterday's this one was riveting: teams picked from cohorts in the village, their year of birth emblazoned on their team T-shirts. The game was to haul a (?) shrine up the same route as yesterday, competing with each other with two routes to pull the vehicle off course. Clearly the drinking had begun early in the day. Most were drunk as skunks. And further aided by officials passing to and fro refilling with sake. It's curious that drunkenness is tolerated - even encouraged - but I barely saw anyone smoking. I suggested to Sunnei that this might be because it's the only way people can break free and indulge in free expression. And she agreed!
So another full-on day comes to a close. I am having an incredible experience. But I think I must abandon any idea I had of this being a kind of retreat. There's far too much going on! And tomorrow, my birthday, Masan has just announced at the supper time "next-day briefing" that we are going to do a survival activity. No water, no fire, no toilet. Everything will have to be constructed. Is this what I would have chosen as my birthday treat? The man is mad. Watch this space...
Back at the house the celebration continued in a rather surprising way: an array of junk food including the most disgusting plastic capsules of fish fused with cheese. Happy autumn!
Today, thanks to Sunnei, several jigsaw pieces have fallen into place. I'm beginning to understand why verbs don't conjugate: the individual counts for so much less; whether it's me, you or them isn't the point. Sunnei even said that the western emphasis on "I think x, I think y..." can even be quite jarring. And when I asked what the Japanese was for "Please could you pass me the..." I was told "Kudasai...", which I know means "I would like...". In other words, simply saying the latter is enough; the Japanese tune in so readily to each other that someone's wish becomes their command.
As we worked together weed-managing (I can't say "weeding" as we leave the root in place - probably just as well as much of it looks suspiciously like the dreaded Japanese knotweed) we chatted about relationships and the differences between the frontier north, Hokkaido, where Sunnei is from, and the more traditional south where arranged marriage is still common. But even for Sunnei the individual is less important than the family. I'm not quite sure where this leaves her - a modern girl trying to make it as an acupuncturist and body worker but struggling because she isn't state-licenced. It's a weirdly familiar but different situation. You can only practice as a body worker if you do the amma style of massage (reserved for blind workers) or if you have a fully state-recognised acupuncture qualification, which is a very expensive training. So she supplements her living doing admin jobs.
I also discovered that Rie is an ex-restaurant macro-biotic chef, and artist. And Masan was an environmental and museum-exhibitions consultant. Tiens tiens...
After lunch we returned to the village shrine to watch a different kind of procession. In contrast to yesterday's this one was riveting: teams picked from cohorts in the village, their year of birth emblazoned on their team T-shirts. The game was to haul a (?) shrine up the same route as yesterday, competing with each other with two routes to pull the vehicle off course. Clearly the drinking had begun early in the day. Most were drunk as skunks. And further aided by officials passing to and fro refilling with sake. It's curious that drunkenness is tolerated - even encouraged - but I barely saw anyone smoking. I suggested to Sunnei that this might be because it's the only way people can break free and indulge in free expression. And she agreed!
So another full-on day comes to a close. I am having an incredible experience. But I think I must abandon any idea I had of this being a kind of retreat. There's far too much going on! And tomorrow, my birthday, Masan has just announced at the supper time "next-day briefing" that we are going to do a survival activity. No water, no fire, no toilet. Everything will have to be constructed. Is this what I would have chosen as my birthday treat? The man is mad. Watch this space...
22 September 2014
first Woofing day
Even before breakfast, at 6.30am there I was, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, cleaning the loo, loo floor, utility area etc. Stomach rumbling, hoping breakfast wouldn't be too much later than 7am. And it wasn't: brown rice with seaweed paste, soy sauce and spring onion, miso soup. Yum yum.
The brown rice is cooked in what Juan thought (when I Skype-toured him) was a giant pressure cooker; in fact a magic rice cooker that mysteriously refills with no one doing anything. I finally got to the bottom of this today: we eat rice cooked the previous day (easier to digest?); it is topped up with the next batch of rice (yeah, how does the first batch avoid getting over cooked?). And, since we never finish it, er, when does the cooker get cleaned? Every week or so.. Wow... What was that we all learned about never storing and reheating cooked rice?
After breakfast all hell broke loose when Fuko and Kanta found out that the school stickers they'd been earning for e.g. going to bed before 9, clearing away their bowls etc had got mixed up. Kanta just couldn't get over it, inconsolable. Fuko, on the other hand, went bananas and then moved on. Interesting how the school is involved at that level, in establishing routines that we might expect parents to decide on an individual basis. But that is one of the key differences about Japan.
So, back to the cleaning and was I perhaps trying to earn a sticker with my zealous scrubbing of the bathroom floor? Needless to say, e-cloths, "telescopic" cleaning handles and anything fancier than (?) baking soda are not part of the woofer's cleaning kit; I was on my hands and knees throughout. Then to the living areas where I attacked places that I swear haven't been cleaned this year, e.g. between the sets of sliding doors that are shut off during winter. This is the quintessential Japanese house: most of the downstairs a huge area of tatami matting, with removable door panels to increase or decrease the room size. The children can have a ball, running around doing cartwheels etc. At some point they will learn restraint, take up less space, those diminutive poses...l
The rest of the morning we were outside: a bit of grain harvesting then clearing a couple of the raised beds. The technique we used must be permaculture - cutting the weeds at ground level rather than uprooting them (unless too big), then leaving them on the alleys between the beds, seed heads and all. This is what Masan describes as growing with love, and that's what this place is all about. I have found the original Japanese hippy family! I asked him what his neighbours thought of him. The answer was mixed: they acknowledge his contribution to the community - strimming in the area around his property, but they object to his "natural" style of farming on the grounds that it attracts more insects, and is not beautiful.
Beautiful. There's a lot to be said about that word. Last night we celebrated Machiko's birthday and my drinking posture was corrected because it is more "beautiful" for a woman to place her non-glass-holding hand horizontally beneath the glass, lifting the glass with both hands. Blimey, that's gonna be tricky to integrate!
Work ended at lunch time and I've spent a pleasant afternoon mooching around. The bath invitation was earlier than usual (it would be completely unacceptable to decline!) - and the water once again too hot to actually get into. So I did a mixture of cold sloshing with the shower, and scooping and diluting from the bath.
Must stop now. Early supper then out to the village autumn festival.
The brown rice is cooked in what Juan thought (when I Skype-toured him) was a giant pressure cooker; in fact a magic rice cooker that mysteriously refills with no one doing anything. I finally got to the bottom of this today: we eat rice cooked the previous day (easier to digest?); it is topped up with the next batch of rice (yeah, how does the first batch avoid getting over cooked?). And, since we never finish it, er, when does the cooker get cleaned? Every week or so.. Wow... What was that we all learned about never storing and reheating cooked rice?
After breakfast all hell broke loose when Fuko and Kanta found out that the school stickers they'd been earning for e.g. going to bed before 9, clearing away their bowls etc had got mixed up. Kanta just couldn't get over it, inconsolable. Fuko, on the other hand, went bananas and then moved on. Interesting how the school is involved at that level, in establishing routines that we might expect parents to decide on an individual basis. But that is one of the key differences about Japan.
So, back to the cleaning and was I perhaps trying to earn a sticker with my zealous scrubbing of the bathroom floor? Needless to say, e-cloths, "telescopic" cleaning handles and anything fancier than (?) baking soda are not part of the woofer's cleaning kit; I was on my hands and knees throughout. Then to the living areas where I attacked places that I swear haven't been cleaned this year, e.g. between the sets of sliding doors that are shut off during winter. This is the quintessential Japanese house: most of the downstairs a huge area of tatami matting, with removable door panels to increase or decrease the room size. The children can have a ball, running around doing cartwheels etc. At some point they will learn restraint, take up less space, those diminutive poses...l
The rest of the morning we were outside: a bit of grain harvesting then clearing a couple of the raised beds. The technique we used must be permaculture - cutting the weeds at ground level rather than uprooting them (unless too big), then leaving them on the alleys between the beds, seed heads and all. This is what Masan describes as growing with love, and that's what this place is all about. I have found the original Japanese hippy family! I asked him what his neighbours thought of him. The answer was mixed: they acknowledge his contribution to the community - strimming in the area around his property, but they object to his "natural" style of farming on the grounds that it attracts more insects, and is not beautiful.
Beautiful. There's a lot to be said about that word. Last night we celebrated Machiko's birthday and my drinking posture was corrected because it is more "beautiful" for a woman to place her non-glass-holding hand horizontally beneath the glass, lifting the glass with both hands. Blimey, that's gonna be tricky to integrate!
Work ended at lunch time and I've spent a pleasant afternoon mooching around. The bath invitation was earlier than usual (it would be completely unacceptable to decline!) - and the water once again too hot to actually get into. So I did a mixture of cold sloshing with the shower, and scooping and diluting from the bath.
Must stop now. Early supper then out to the village autumn festival.
20 September 2014
to market to market...
My arrival here has coincided with a major new project for family Morimoto: today they are launching a range of home-made cakes and desserts, drinks, condiments (miso, soy sauce) and lunch boxes - the classic "bento" but with their own macrobiotic/vegan spin - at the monthly market at Gifu, a 2-hour drive from here. Rie, helped by the team, has been cooking for days, the final push being this morning, when she got up at 3am to make the bento boxes. So, from around 4am, delicious smells we're wafting up to the first-floor "attic" space where me and the other two woofers sleep.
Yesterday I helped Machiko wrap up and label individual slices of cake, my Neanderthal fingers making heavy weather of the delicate operation. Even the muffins were lovingly packaged - no "pile it high" strategy here.
Meanwhile, Masan played with the children who, in their different ways, are all confident and supremely independent. Far from clutching to mummy's skirts, 3-year-old Fuko is already taking responsibility for dressing herself, laying the table, serving out the miso soup (hilarious, as it slops wildly around). The boys draw and read and play board games. At supper they are at ease using the lethal kitchen knives to slice up sausage for the pizza. Squabbles are rare, the house rings with laughter. Even Rie, slogging non stop, does so with serenity. And this on Kanta's birthday when most European - and indeed Japanese - parents would have been doing their nut putting on a complicated party event. Instead, Kanta went out to see his friends (it being such an intense work day at home). We then had a simple but lovely pizza-making evening. For once all rules were broken and both meat and cheese appeared. But Masan was keen to point out that the birthday dessert (a fruit tart) had no butter, eggs or white sugar! And yes, it was delicious. Rie is a wizard.
This was the ultimate non-materialistic birthday. Kanta's present from his brother was a tiny home-made "space ship"; from his parents it was comic books. Did he feel any disappointment, in the face of peer comparison? Who knows... He sat in his "throne", surrounded by a forest of decorative streamers while we sang - in English - Happy Birthday, and looked contented enough.
The daily activities change - this has been the weekend, so no school - but the household is anchored by rituals of different sorts: at 6.30 the valley is filled with uplifting muzak, a signal to farm workers that it's breakfast time; in the house each meal is preceded and finished by simple words created by Masan and Rie; bathing for the whole family is completed before supper; there is no fuss and no negotiation at any time - the children and parents eat, together, the same food and everyone clears the table together. At the end of the day Masan reads a bedtime story and that's that. And, as described, life is celebrated. The dream family?
With the family away for the day, today is a "free day" for me. Most days my tasks seem to be making the fires; laying the table and clearing up for every meal (a major job with no dish washer and unbelievable numbers of pots, pans, implements and dishes used in the ultra-complicated meal preparation - the downside of vegan cuisine); heating the bath water. Masan told me on day 1 that I was "staff", and therefore a different status from the permanent woofers. But the pecking order is pretty friendly, the atmosphere relaxed.
I see that Masan has FB'd a couple of food snaps from this morning, so I'll share the link. If you click on "translate" you'll have a rough idea of why cooking here is such a complex operation, and why it is so delicious. I'm hoping to sample a bit at lunchtime!
I'll also post a few more of mine to FB - and this will be my strategy for photo sharing, at least for now.
Yesterday I helped Machiko wrap up and label individual slices of cake, my Neanderthal fingers making heavy weather of the delicate operation. Even the muffins were lovingly packaged - no "pile it high" strategy here.
Meanwhile, Masan played with the children who, in their different ways, are all confident and supremely independent. Far from clutching to mummy's skirts, 3-year-old Fuko is already taking responsibility for dressing herself, laying the table, serving out the miso soup (hilarious, as it slops wildly around). The boys draw and read and play board games. At supper they are at ease using the lethal kitchen knives to slice up sausage for the pizza. Squabbles are rare, the house rings with laughter. Even Rie, slogging non stop, does so with serenity. And this on Kanta's birthday when most European - and indeed Japanese - parents would have been doing their nut putting on a complicated party event. Instead, Kanta went out to see his friends (it being such an intense work day at home). We then had a simple but lovely pizza-making evening. For once all rules were broken and both meat and cheese appeared. But Masan was keen to point out that the birthday dessert (a fruit tart) had no butter, eggs or white sugar! And yes, it was delicious. Rie is a wizard.
This was the ultimate non-materialistic birthday. Kanta's present from his brother was a tiny home-made "space ship"; from his parents it was comic books. Did he feel any disappointment, in the face of peer comparison? Who knows... He sat in his "throne", surrounded by a forest of decorative streamers while we sang - in English - Happy Birthday, and looked contented enough.
The daily activities change - this has been the weekend, so no school - but the household is anchored by rituals of different sorts: at 6.30 the valley is filled with uplifting muzak, a signal to farm workers that it's breakfast time; in the house each meal is preceded and finished by simple words created by Masan and Rie; bathing for the whole family is completed before supper; there is no fuss and no negotiation at any time - the children and parents eat, together, the same food and everyone clears the table together. At the end of the day Masan reads a bedtime story and that's that. And, as described, life is celebrated. The dream family?
With the family away for the day, today is a "free day" for me. Most days my tasks seem to be making the fires; laying the table and clearing up for every meal (a major job with no dish washer and unbelievable numbers of pots, pans, implements and dishes used in the ultra-complicated meal preparation - the downside of vegan cuisine); heating the bath water. Masan told me on day 1 that I was "staff", and therefore a different status from the permanent woofers. But the pecking order is pretty friendly, the atmosphere relaxed.
I see that Masan has FB'd a couple of food snaps from this morning, so I'll share the link. If you click on "translate" you'll have a rough idea of why cooking here is such a complex operation, and why it is so delicious. I'm hoping to sample a bit at lunchtime!
I'll also post a few more of mine to FB - and this will be my strategy for photo sharing, at least for now.
19 September 2014
arrival at Masan's
After my castle tour it was already time to leave Matsumoto - even before I'd started to explore its potential as a base for the Japanese Alps ("so sorry, so sorry!" apologised my castle guide when she found I lived in the "real" Alps). But this trip is a cultural, not hiking, adventure. So, this afternoon, my train plus bus journey brought me safely into the hands of Masan and his family at Kishomi (see link in August blog). I was highly relieved, there being no plan B!
It's looking like what I had thought was a "community" is in fact a kind of extended family. Masan and his wife Rie live in a traditional farmhouse of a style which Masan says is unusual even for the Japanese. The ethos, atmosphere and nature of the business remind me of the similar farm enterprise of the Pommart farm at Villeneuve d'Uriage (tragically burned just after I left fork the UK - if anyone reading this has any news please let me know). Machiko, long-term assistant at the family home of Masan and Rie, is packing and labelling home-baked cakes, ready for sale in the recently opened shop. Daichan (another woofer) and The children, Kanta's (5), Yuta (9) and Fuku (3), are glued to a DVD - a one-off treat because it is Kanta's birthday tomorrow. Masan is doing something on the computer and Rie is organising laundry. I have a glass of Chilean red wine in my hand, having sampled Masan's home brew at supper. (Beer is amongst the products they sell. I am "off duty", this being my first day, with instructions to relax. It's not easy - I am in sensory over-load!
So far... my first experience of washing, Japanese style. Water is heated to blistering point by a wood-burning stove. You immerse yourself into the tub after washing with a shower (cold) mixed with a bit of water from the tub. Although Masan (excellent English, widely travelled) has made clear that I am considered as "staff" rather than family, on this occasion I was given first bathe = honoured guest. The rest of the household then followed. I found this mildly awkward so made sure I was pristinely clean before getting into the tub. As for relaxing there... Hmm ... It was roastingl
Supper.. Exquisite and the best Japanese food I've ever had. Delicious brown rice and veggie dishes made with a whole array of veg, tofu and seaweed. Small portions eaten on tiny plates. Little Fuko already adept with her chopsticks, a recently acquired skill. I was helped out by a fork. Kind people. They think I'm too beautiful to be aged 54! Masan's searingly hot home-made chilli sauce brought tears to the eyes and - oh no - dribbles to the nose, and I found myself in the dreaded socially compromising situation. So I simply asked, where should I go to blow my nose. And the adjoining room was considered appropriate
Must stop now as I have an early start tomorrow.
It's looking like what I had thought was a "community" is in fact a kind of extended family. Masan and his wife Rie live in a traditional farmhouse of a style which Masan says is unusual even for the Japanese. The ethos, atmosphere and nature of the business remind me of the similar farm enterprise of the Pommart farm at Villeneuve d'Uriage (tragically burned just after I left fork the UK - if anyone reading this has any news please let me know). Machiko, long-term assistant at the family home of Masan and Rie, is packing and labelling home-baked cakes, ready for sale in the recently opened shop. Daichan (another woofer) and The children, Kanta's (5), Yuta (9) and Fuku (3), are glued to a DVD - a one-off treat because it is Kanta's birthday tomorrow. Masan is doing something on the computer and Rie is organising laundry. I have a glass of Chilean red wine in my hand, having sampled Masan's home brew at supper. (Beer is amongst the products they sell. I am "off duty", this being my first day, with instructions to relax. It's not easy - I am in sensory over-load!
So far... my first experience of washing, Japanese style. Water is heated to blistering point by a wood-burning stove. You immerse yourself into the tub after washing with a shower (cold) mixed with a bit of water from the tub. Although Masan (excellent English, widely travelled) has made clear that I am considered as "staff" rather than family, on this occasion I was given first bathe = honoured guest. The rest of the household then followed. I found this mildly awkward so made sure I was pristinely clean before getting into the tub. As for relaxing there... Hmm ... It was roastingl
Supper.. Exquisite and the best Japanese food I've ever had. Delicious brown rice and veggie dishes made with a whole array of veg, tofu and seaweed. Small portions eaten on tiny plates. Little Fuko already adept with her chopsticks, a recently acquired skill. I was helped out by a fork. Kind people. They think I'm too beautiful to be aged 54! Masan's searingly hot home-made chilli sauce brought tears to the eyes and - oh no - dribbles to the nose, and I found myself in the dreaded socially compromising situation. So I simply asked, where should I go to blow my nose. And the adjoining room was considered appropriate
Must stop now as I have an early start tomorrow.
first day in Japan
Writing this in the waiting room at Matsumoto station, not knowing for sure that my first woofing host has received my message about my arrival time his end. But there's no room in my brain for worry - too much novelty to digest. Finally, I have to let go... Boosted by how easy everything has been so far.
I had been a little anxious about my journey into and out of Tokyo. But Yesterday I glided through Tokyo airport without a hitch, sped round the city on the Narita Expressway, and then out from Shinjuko to Matsumoto on another train. At any point when I hesitated, a sign in English or a friendly local helped me out.
As I write, a cleaner is spraying and scraping meticulously at a stain on the (already immaculate) floor, followed up by a thorough mopping. Even the Swiss could learn something here. And it was the same yesterday: the Narita train floor scrubbed clean before we boarded, and, on every balcony in every flat we passed, I could see clothes drying. Clean clean clean. At the backpackers hostel I stayed at last night the wheels of my wheely suitcase were wiped by my host, to avoid dirtying the floor. And this morning was the first time I've walked barefoot around a fortress - my shoes removed to walk up Matsumoto castle's six floors. The only western tourist, and the only one without socks.
My castle visit was greatly enhanced by a local guide, the bowing, smiling and thanking that is so much a part of all dialogue reaching new proportions. The 16th century fortress has resisted wind, rain, fire and earthquakes to stand as one of only three of its type in Japan, a "National treasure". At the entrance, posing next to the two samurai warriors was de rigeur, and, to avoid giving offence to them or my guide I did likewise. I wasn't able to pull the V sign plus teeth-flashing pose of the Japanese but I'm sure it will come!
All through the visit my guide was solicitous: were my feet cold, did I want my picture taken (again), did I want to know any more about the history of guns... And I'm finding this everywhere: on the train, people check before reclining their seat that it's ok, the face masks - disconcerting at first, and which we assume are for protection - are apparently worn to protect others from the sight of a dribbly or red nose. (I'm not yet convinced of this; it means an awful lot of the population is ailing!)
Something else I've noticed: the sense of fitness for purpose. For my lunches I've been buying triangular wedges of rice sold with a separate leaf of seawood that you wrap around the rice - totally practical; in the backpackers a really simple thing, but oh how useful - hangers with clothes pegs to dry your towel, or whatever.
Anywhere and everywhere things are unexpectedly different: on the bus you take a piece of paper with a number that corresponds to an illuminated display; as the journey progresses your fare mounts up, as in a taxi. In the trains there are carriages for reserved seating and others for non-reserved. Walking along the street I saw someone doing shiatsu in a shop front made entirely of glass, the client in full view of the street. Loo seats are heated; flush options include bottom spraying (I've pushed as hard as I dare to understand the detail but it's got embarrassing before I fully understood!); the hand basin is positioned just above the cistern, activated by the flush mechanism? And so much more. But if I don't stop here I'll never get to what happened next. Which - for me - has been like a dream. I have landed in totally the right place.
I had been a little anxious about my journey into and out of Tokyo. But Yesterday I glided through Tokyo airport without a hitch, sped round the city on the Narita Expressway, and then out from Shinjuko to Matsumoto on another train. At any point when I hesitated, a sign in English or a friendly local helped me out.
As I write, a cleaner is spraying and scraping meticulously at a stain on the (already immaculate) floor, followed up by a thorough mopping. Even the Swiss could learn something here. And it was the same yesterday: the Narita train floor scrubbed clean before we boarded, and, on every balcony in every flat we passed, I could see clothes drying. Clean clean clean. At the backpackers hostel I stayed at last night the wheels of my wheely suitcase were wiped by my host, to avoid dirtying the floor. And this morning was the first time I've walked barefoot around a fortress - my shoes removed to walk up Matsumoto castle's six floors. The only western tourist, and the only one without socks.
My castle visit was greatly enhanced by a local guide, the bowing, smiling and thanking that is so much a part of all dialogue reaching new proportions. The 16th century fortress has resisted wind, rain, fire and earthquakes to stand as one of only three of its type in Japan, a "National treasure". At the entrance, posing next to the two samurai warriors was de rigeur, and, to avoid giving offence to them or my guide I did likewise. I wasn't able to pull the V sign plus teeth-flashing pose of the Japanese but I'm sure it will come!
All through the visit my guide was solicitous: were my feet cold, did I want my picture taken (again), did I want to know any more about the history of guns... And I'm finding this everywhere: on the train, people check before reclining their seat that it's ok, the face masks - disconcerting at first, and which we assume are for protection - are apparently worn to protect others from the sight of a dribbly or red nose. (I'm not yet convinced of this; it means an awful lot of the population is ailing!)
Something else I've noticed: the sense of fitness for purpose. For my lunches I've been buying triangular wedges of rice sold with a separate leaf of seawood that you wrap around the rice - totally practical; in the backpackers a really simple thing, but oh how useful - hangers with clothes pegs to dry your towel, or whatever.
Anywhere and everywhere things are unexpectedly different: on the bus you take a piece of paper with a number that corresponds to an illuminated display; as the journey progresses your fare mounts up, as in a taxi. In the trains there are carriages for reserved seating and others for non-reserved. Walking along the street I saw someone doing shiatsu in a shop front made entirely of glass, the client in full view of the street. Loo seats are heated; flush options include bottom spraying (I've pushed as hard as I dare to understand the detail but it's got embarrassing before I fully understood!); the hand basin is positioned just above the cistern, activated by the flush mechanism? And so much more. But if I don't stop here I'll never get to what happened next. Which - for me - has been like a dream. I have landed in totally the right place.
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