JAPAN JOURNAL 2006 - week 1

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Day 1: Aug. 14

Our journey began in San Leandro, California, where some friends are babysitting our vehicle and trailer while we're away. They also gave us a lift to the BART station this morning.

BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit, if you're unfamiliar with it) has considerably extended its rail lines in the years since we moved away from San Francisco; time was, Daily City was as far south as you could go on the Western lines, and then if you needed to get to the airport, you'd have to make the other 10 miles or so by bus, taxi or camel. But nowadays, the BART trains roll right up to the SFO terminal. So some things really do improve over time. There was even a helpful ticket agent on hand to wave Dennis on through the gate after he fumbled for several minutes in a futile effort to locate his missing ticket.

We walked up to the check-in counter at 10:45, exactly 3 hours prior to scheduled departure. Which we figured was just about right. The pre-flight frenzy at airports has never been pretty, but in recent times, the process has exceeded all previous standards of ugliness. And because of an alleged terrorist plot foiled a few days ago, the airlines have drawn up a whole new roster of inconveniences to inflict upon hapless passengers. Lipstick and toothpaste are now regarded as deadly weapons, as are bottles of water. The latter is an especially troubling addition to us, because we each carry a bottle of water wherever we go.

Heightened security prohibited such items as lotions and water.

Even the liquor stores were locked tight.

After steering our way through the check-in gauntlet, we spent some time browsing through the shops in the hopes (unfulfilled, alas) of locating some gift-wrapping paper. In Japan, it's the custom for guests to bring small gifts for their hosts, preferably something that expresses the character of whatever place they're coming from. That task in itself is daunting enough, even for folks who travel as much as we do. Because just when you think you've found a rare hand-crafted Native American trinket, you turn it over and see the label that says Made in China.

But while we'd already managed to buy a suitable assortment of presents of an easily portable size, another important aspect of the Japanese tradition is to wrap the items in an esthetically pleasing fashion. And believe it or not, it's been impossible for us to snag some suitable paper for the last few days. And believe it or not, there wasn't a scrap of it to be had in San Francisco International Airport. So we resigned ourselves to offering our gifts naked.

We did at least manage to convert our currency before boarding, which makes one less task to take care of upon touchdown. There was plenty of time, even though Kimberly and Zephyr were beginning to panic at the boarding gate before Dennis returned with a fistful of yen.

There was also plenty of time for Dennis to take some panic medication before liftoff. It had been 18 years since he'd been on a plane, and he vowed never to fly again. And for the first couple of hours aloft, he was thoroughly regretting that he'd broken that vow.

There are those among us who feel implacably jittery about being 7 miles above the earth traveling at 500 miles per hour. But this flight and this airline (Northwest) did pretty much everything possible to smooth the rough edges. The takeoff was quite punctual, and beverages and snacks were plentiful. Numerous options were available for movie watching and music listening. And if you enjoy following the progress of the trip, there's a monitor with the altitude, speed, arrival time, time of trip and other information displayed - in both Japanese and English - as well as a GPS icon of a plane moving along on a map. (The numbers are displayed in both metric and English systems.)

Perhaps the flight would have been considerably shorter if we'd taken a more direct path, a straight shot across the Pacific. But instead, we headed east a bit out of San Francisco, and then north almost to Vancouver before finally arcing west. And even then we hugged the coastline, passing over the tip of Alaska, then above the Aleutian Islands, and apparently even above or within sight of Russia.

And then the little plane on the screen scooted past that magic line that suddenly transformed today into tomorrow.

Day 2: Aug. 15

Near the end of the flight, we were served breakfast, even though it was about midnight by our reckoning, and we'd been surrounded by broad daylight ever since we left. In booking this journey, we'd hoped to arrange vegetarian meals. But when we checked with Northwest's website, we found only the stipulation that such amenities were available at a price. So we opted to bring along our own victuals instead. But "last night", we noticed that complimentary dinners were being issued.

We inquired with a flight attendant, and were told that in fact there should be no additional charge for such meals; but no vegetarian dinners were still available, as only two people had ordered them in advance, and they both showed up.

Now, at breakfast, we accepted an omelet (which came with two links of sausage which we hastily tossed aside) and found it to be edible enough. And we resolved to check the website again before the return voyage.

About an hour later, we landed at Narita Airport. It was 4:45 p.m. local time (the middle of the night by our internal clocks) and noticed with relief that the sky was overcast and a drizzle was falling. We'd heard that August is hot and muggy in Japan, and those are not our favorite meteorological conditions.

There was a brief detour through immigration to fill out a form and get our passports stamped. There was nothing complicated about the form, but the process of finding the correct paperwork to fill out and the proper line to stand in was a bit confusing.

A few minutes later, we were emerging from the baggage claim area with our luggage intact, and greeting our host family, who'd all turned out in force to welcome us.

So after ten and a half hours on a cramped jet, we were ready to stretch our legs a bit, eh? Not quite. There was still a two hour ride to their home in Kumagaya City. It was rather awkward, of course, to ride in a vehicle with the driver on the right and the vehicle on the left side of the road. Every turn around the corner made it feel as if we were about to ram into oncoming traffic.

But it was a wide-eyed ride for more reasons than that, a trek through utterly unfamiliar territory. At one point, we passed through the outskirts of Tokyo (that's a two-syllable word, my fellow Americans), which seemed to stretch on forever.

Before reaching our destination, we stopped for dinner at a franchise restaurant that nonetheless employed traditional Japanese seating on cushions. The menu may as well have been in Klingon--it was clear from the photos of the entrees that we were on unknown turf here. Sure, we'd had Japanese food before, but not THIS Japanese. But with the kind assistance of our escorts, we were able to select a couple of vegetarian items that were quite scrumptious.

On to the house, where we were shown to our room. We decided not to stay in the usual guest room, an old-style room with sliding doors, mats on the floor and paper windows. It certainly would have been a more authentic experience, but that, unfortunately, included the absence of air conditioning. So instead we settled into the room that Yukari uses for tutoring English to children; it features state-of-the-art AC operated via remote control.

Day 3: Aug. 16

Woke up in Nihon (the usual name for Japan, rather than Nippon)feeling rather rested, which is surprising considering how little sleep we've had. No signs of the dreaded jet lag just yet.

We learned that we broke the law by bringing a banana into Japan, which is very strict about prohibiting plants from outside the country. We don't know why it wasn't brought to our attention during all the red tape at the airports. They didn't let us bring water, hair gel, toothpaste, or nail clippers, but a gun-shaped fruit made it through???

After ko-cha (black tea) and asa-gohan (breakfast), we headed out for a day of browsing at a shopping mall. We have many ideas about specific sites to visit, but really the SIGHTS are just as fascinating as the SITES. In other words, it's quite "tanoshi" (enjoyable) to just drive around with your eyes wide open (as they always should be when driving) and just absorb the local colors and flavor.

Today was rather overcast, but quite humid and sticky. We heard that it's typhoon season, and so we might get some heavy rain soon.

We passed by a fire station, and noticed several firemen going through a military-style drill. On another block, a group of gentlemen were playing a game similar to golf, except with larger balls. We noticed several business franchises that are common in America, including Bridgestone and Denny's. What's really interesting is that many of them have names that are rather difficult for the Japanese to pronounce: McDonald's, Seven Eleven, Mobil and Shell. Seven-Eleven is especially prevalent here, having a store on almost every corner, it seems.

We also saw several glitzy establishments devoted to a game called Pachinko. Although Nevada-style games of chance are illegal here (we're going to avoid the g-word so we don't attract Google ads we don't want), Pachinko parlors circumvent that restriction by incorporating an element of chance as well. What we gather is that the player not only pulls a lever to start the reels spinning, but also punches a series of buttons that require quick reflexes.

Perhaps most conspicuously of all, you see greenery everywhere you go. We've always thought of this country as being extremely crowded, and no doubt that's true in the large cities, which we have yet to visit. But in the smaller cities and towns, there is an abundance of open land, and most of it has been cultivated with rice, green onions and other edible vegetation. It seems that in Kumagaya City at least, about every other house has a small rice paddy next to it--including the one we're staying in.

We got out of the car at the mall, and as Dennis put on his sunglasses, 17-year-old son Keisuke commented "You are cool". (Perhaps he thinks that's a synonym for ungainly. Anyway, our Japanese "kids" have improved their English skills considerably since we saw them 3 years ago in the U.S.) We noticed that outside the mall there was a tire pump for bicycles. Great idea! We see people of all ages and clothing styles riding bikes (though almost nobody, it seems, wears a helmet). Japanese bicycles, by the way, have a different type of kickstand, a squared bracket that braces the wheel on both sides, which seems much more stable than the American type. And guess what: we seldom see a bike locked up!

Inside the mall, we found a wide assortment of stores, some of which have signs in English as well as Japanese. (One shop that sells various types of stockings posted the rather curious message that "Our products are made using all five senses".) There was also a smoking room near the entrance--there don't seem to be laws prohibiting smoking indoors, but it hasn't been a problem thus far.

The mall was having a special fair celebrating Obon (the Festival of the Dead, wherein folks honor their ancestors.) In addition to games and an oracle booth, etc., there was an "Obake Yoshiki" (haunted house), which of course Zephyr (accompanied by Dennis and Keisuke) had to tour. The admission was 400 yen, which sounds exorbitant, but a yen (actually pronounced"en") is only about a penny, so it was more or less 4 bucks. (We later noticed that successively larger denominations of bills are slightly longer, perhaps as an aid to the visually impaired.) In Japan, you have to get used to dealing with very large numbers when handling money; you could be a millionaire and a poor man at the same time. There is a store in the mall called the Hundred Yen store, very similar to the dollar stores and 99 cent stores back home.

Lunch time came, and the food court was very crowded, so we went shopping for carry-out food to eat elsewhere. But then (after a delay in which Dennis thought he'd let an envelope full of money slip out of his pocket), we had a difficult time finding a place to picnic because it started raining, so we saved that food for dinner and went to lunch at a cafe in a place which appeared to be a rest stop (there was even a motorhome parked there, the first one we'd seen).

Before returning home, we stopped at a large department store to shop for a camera, since ours has been acting up when it acts at all. Found one on sale for 15800 yen, and after an interesting but unsuccessful attempt to purchase it by credit card, we forked over the cash.

By the way, Dennis not only found his missing money (at home on the bathroom sink), but his missing BART ticket.

Day 4: Aug. 17

Today's expedition was to some nearby historical sites. The two families, minus 13-year-old daughter Ayaka, who is spending all day at tennis practice, piled into the van and headed out through the narrow streets, some of which are EXCRUCIATINGLY narrow. How narrow are they? Well, back home they'd hardly even qualify as alleys--just about wide enough to get a golf cart and a couple of wheelbarrows down them, yet they're actually two-way streets. Not only that, but pedestrians and bicycles also frequent them, without the benefit of shoulders or sidewalks. And yet drivers seem to course their way through them with very few mishaps, squeezing off the edge or into a driveway to let another vehicle pass. Motorists appear to be far more courteous than in the U.S., and they seem to operate under some kind of implied protocol, or maybe it's just a sixth sense, concerning who has the right of way.

Our first stop was the Gyoda City Museum, site of Oshi Castle, a reconstruction of a castle built originally in the 15th Century. The museum, which overlooks a little grove of the most humongous bamboo stalks we've ever encountered, houses a display of local artifacts from the prehistoric to the modern age. These include haniwa, mysterious stone figures of animals that were placed outside ancient tombs. While their exact function is debatable, it appears that they were intended to guard the tombs, presumably from the intrusion of stone demons. There's also an exhibit about the manufacture of tabi, the two-toed heavy stockings that have been a tradition in Japan for centuries. About half of the tabi produced in the country still come from the city of Gyoda.

The next stop was the Sakitama Museum of Archaeology and Folk Culture, located near 9 large burial mounds (some fashioned in a curious keyhole shape) built between the 5th and 7th Centuries. Nearby is Osaki Marsh, which figures in the Manyoshi, the oldest Japanese literary anthology.

Before we entered this museum, we paused at a souvenir shop cum snack bar across the street to sample a type of fried potato pie with spices in it, served wrapped in a piece of newspaper. It was rather tasty, despite being heavy on the grease. Outside this shop were a few vending machines selling an astonishing variety of cold drinks, from several kinds of iced coffee to citrus flavored Coke to water to herbal health beverages. It wasn't unusual to see these machines here, because they're on the streets everywhere you go. And some of them sell other merchandise besides drinks. Another machine in this particular location offered coin collections and collectible currency. Keisuke demonstrated for us how it's possible to purchase items from these machines by holding your cell phone (ketai denwa) against a sensor and punching in a code to have the transaction charged to your account. Another example of Japanese technological ingenuity.

The Sakitama Museum complex features an original (but relocated) rice farmer's house, complete with attached stables, tool shed, etc., providing a glimpse into peasant life 200 years ago. The museum building proper contained only a few relics, but one of them was a 1600-year-old sword with gold inscriptions on the blade that has been designated a national treasure.

Then we had one more brief museum trek, inside one of the actual burial mounds to view a layout of how a VIP's remains would be laid to rest, surrounded by some of his prize possessions.

On the way back to the house, we decided to stop for lunch. We settled upon a restaurant that featured a (western) classical music motif, complete with grand piano, music box music, and stained glass windows with likenesses of famous composers. The culinary motif was essentially spaghetti, although it was prepared in quite a different fashion from back home. We haven't seen any hint of tomato-based sauces here; the pasta we ordered was covered with a buttery amalgam of vegetables that wasn't bad at all.

On our table was a little device with a button on it (quite common, we gather, in restaurants here) which diners could press to summon a server back to the table. And Japanese servers, we've noticed, have a way of returning promptly and cheerfully, providing excellent service--and generally without receiving tips!

This is in perfect accordance with the service we've witnessed at other business establishments--when we bought the camera, we saw sales clerks literally running through the store to tend to a customer's needs. And it isn't just in places of business that courtesy rules. When we told our hosts, for example, about some of the rude drivers in America, they were astounded--they almost never see such a thing here. It's unwise to trust stereotypes, but there are a couple of stereotypes about the Japanese that are perfectly true: they have a hard time pronouncing "L", and they are incredibly polite and considerate. In fact, the latter impression underestimates the case considerably.

Anyway, while we were in the restaurant, a thunderstorm struck--the fringe of the typhoon--bringing some welcome relief from the heat. And Toshihide insisted on going to get the car and bringing it up to the door so that nobody else would get wet.

Back at home, we watched some footage on TV of the typhoon and tried to make sense of the commentary, but the commentators spoke entirely too fast for our English-speaking ears. We noted that weathermen here employ computer graphics techniques on the screen that are more advanced than any we've seen in the States. By the way, the TV also has been airing a great deal of footage about the Prime Minister, who is stepping down, and will be replaced in an election next month.

We're getting a real kick out of the family dog, Hana ("flower"), a diminutive Chihuaha who charms the tabi off even those who normally don't care for dogs at all. We know this because she's the first dog that Dennis has held in his lap for many years.

Day 5: Aug. 18

We remained "at home" most of the day, since Yukari's schedule included several hours of tutoring her students of English.

This morning, Toshihide and Zephyr took a bicycle ride to the store, a common mode of transportation--virtually every bike you see has a basket on it.

Later, Toshihide drove Kimberly and Dennis several miles to a resort hotel, the closest location where Kimberly might be able to get her laptop online. She's been unable to do so at the house, even though it has wireless access. And even though we can take care of our email with Yukari's computer (the keyboard takes some getting used to), we have to use Kimberly's to update our website--which we'd hoped to do every day while we're here.

We arrived at the hotel and seated ourselves in the lobby, and when the laptop was turned on, there was indeed a WI-FI signal. But we still were unable to log on, even after we--well, okay, after Toshihide spoke to the desk clerk and obtained the password and instructions.

Meanwhile, Dennis ventured to buy a package of gum at the desk. Normally a decent mathematician, he's been consistently putting the decimal point in the wrong place when doing mental currency conversion (which is really quite simple if you just think of a yen as a penny, which it almost is), and consequently has been trying to pay too much or too little for things. This time, the language barrier also came into play. He correctly asked "Ikura desu ka?" ("How much is it?"), but misunderstood the answer and left without his change, which the clerk returned to him after chasing him down.

Incidentally, the clerk carried the change in one of the little trays that are situated by just about any cashier you see. You place your payment in the tray, and your change is placed in it in turn.

On the way back "home", we asked Toshihide about the diamond-shaped markings in the road, identical to those that designate carpool lanes in the U.S. He explained that they indicate a caution zone.

The students came, in several sessions. During one of them we sat in and helped them with their pronunciation. We also read to them and let them practice reading. We were quite impressed by their progress, especially considering their ages--two of them were seven, and one was only five! Even the 5-year-old read quite well in English.

This afternoon we did some laundry, which is a necessity in view of how lightly we packed. The family washing machine is a high-tech washer/dryer combination that weighs your clothes, tells you precisely how much detergent to add, washes, dries and even plays a couple of ditties by Mozart to signal the end of phases in the cycle. The downside is that it only holds a small load, and can take a very long time to finish--up to about 4 hours. This could make a trip to the laundromat an all-day outing--we've noticed that similar machines are in the laundromat down the street. But if you have one of these babies at home, and you're not in urgent need of clean socks, it can be quite handy.

Day 6: Aug. 19

Up early, because we had a two-hour drive ahead of us. Another hot day, rather smoggy, and we stopped at a convenience store so the light-skinned folks among us could obtain some sunscreen. Dennis went into the store and inquired whether they had any, had it pointed out to him, and made the transaction--all by himself, and without a word of English being uttered. And without any mistakes in payment.

Continuing our drive, we passed a gargantuan rugby stadium, apparently the chief facility of its kind in the whole country. We also passed a scaled-down replica (about 30 feet high) of Mount Rushmore, of all things.

Our destination was Edo Wonderland, a living history center depicting the peaceful and prosperous Edo Period (1603-1867) whose trappings immediately come to mind when most Westerners think of traditional Japan. The center is like an entire village, with historical exhibits, costumed characters roaming the streets, and above all, numerous theatrical performances.

We headed for the first show almost as soon as we arrived at the park, and at the door we were handed a plastic bag to put our shoes in, as the audience would be seated on the floor. We also were handed a little sheet of white paper, and we were quite clueless as to what we should do with them.

At the beginning of the performance, one of the actors came out and gave instructions to the audience, including--we could make out--turning off cell phones. He also singled us out as the only gai-jin (foreigners) present, and told us "konnichi wa" (good day). And he took special care to point out to us in particular the purpose of the white sheets, which he even referred to in English as "cheap white paper". It turns out that the audience members are supposed to wrap coins in these sheets and, at the conclusion of the performance, toss them onstage. What a great custom! We may want to borrow it for our own shows, eh?

The show itself was excellent, with outstanding performances all around. It was essentially a serious drama about a poor man--a cloth dyer by trade whose hands are stained blue--who saves up his money for 5 years in order to obtain an opportunity to meet a woman of higher social standing with whom he has fallen in love. There was also, however, a good deal of humor to clarify the plot a bit for those of us who had a hard time following the dialogue. (This included native speakers, since the actors spoke in a classical Japanese style analogous to Shakespearean English.)

After the performance, we went up to greet the cast, and Dennis told them, "Watashitachi wa Amerika no haiyu desu. Anatatachi wa sugoi desu yo." (We are American actors, and we think you're excellent.) Actually, his Japanese was a bit more fragmented than that, but he obviously got the idea across, because they were very pleased and replied with, "Ah, arigato gozaimasu." (The latter expression, by the way, is one that we hear repeatedly every day. Everywhere you go, people will bow and thank you profusely for every little thing you do. It's enough to make an American wonder what they put in the water here to make everyone so chipper.)

We were unable to snap any photos of this performance, although we did have our friends take some for us, because we discovered that the batteries in our brand new handy-dandy camera were dead already. So afterward, we had to buy some more.

Then came more shows, a total of 5 in all, each lasting about half an hour. This was more theatre than we'd absorbed in one day in a long time. Each of the presentations offered a different style and theme, which we were able to discern readily enough even though the more subtle distinctions were lost on us. One of them was a Ninja show (right up Zephyr's alley), with spectacular fight scenes. And perhaps the most talented member of the cast--not only in combat skills but in acting--was the lone female. Unfortunately, her character was killed off halfway through the story, and she didn't even return to join the guys for a curtain call amid a shower of papered coins. Instead, she ducked outside the theatre to resume her other role greeting the customers lining up for the next performance. At least she did pose for photos with the public--she's on the far left in ours.

Between shows, we managed to squeeze in lunch (skewered potatoes fried in batter, skewered mochi balls with sauce, and seasoned, roasted corn on the cob. All quite tasty, for 800 yen per person.); stroll through an exhibit about warfare and jails through the ages; worm our way through a rather well-done "haunted house" attraction (right up Zephyr's alley); catch a couple of street performances including a jester-type fellow who contorted little bamboo mats into creative shapes; witness a rather curious ritual in which a group of bare-chested men paraded through the crowd while being splashed with water by standersby; and pose with some of the period characters. In the photos, you can see Dennis cozying up to a colorful geisha, and Kimberly getting a regal ride in a palanquin borne by a pair of muscular attendants. They were actually there offering rides to kids, but they didn't object when she climbed in.

The penultimate performance of the day was a farce about a folk hero called Toyamano Kinsan, a magistrate who strolls through the streets dispensing justice in disguise. But the real hero is another disguised character--a woman who runs a cafe by day and by night prowls around stealing money from the rich so she can give it to the poor--a Japanese Robin Hoodess. The action was somewhat easier to follow than in the other stories, being based in broad comedy. But the dialogue was all in Japanese except for one phrase. At one point, one of the characters exclaimed "Oh my god!". Whereupon everyone in the theatre laughed, and turned to look at us.

At the conclusion of the last show--a flashy piece built around "water magic" with fountains gushing from unlikely locations--the park began closing, and we began making our way home.

We stopped at the Nikko shrine, built about 400 years ago--after sauntering into a hotel lobby to buy even more batteries ("denshi") for our most cantankerous camera.

A ceremony of some sort was in progress on the grounds (a contemporary ceremony--nothing with traditional costumes) but the facility itself was closed for the day. A shame, because it looked like a place one could spend an entire day exploring. "Shrine" in this instance doesn't mean just a building, but a vast complex of buildings and structures, all architectuarlly, historically and esthetically rich. There was no way we could have examined even the exteriors in the remaining daylight we had available--especially since, shortly after our arrival, a thunderstrom sent us scampering back to the car.

Day 7: Aug. 20

We all (minus Keisuke) piled into the van and headed for the hills, not very far away, to spend a Sunday at the Ara River (Arakawa). On the way, we spotted a line of about 75 people on the sidewalk in front of a small restaurant, waiting patiently in the blazing sun. Our hosts explained that they were queued up for an opportunity to shell out 600 yen for a frappe, for which this establishment was famous. Evidently so.

We also passed an onsen, one of the hot springs resorts at which tourists and natives alike famously pamper themselves in the mineral baths--an especially welcome indulgence in the winter. We expressed an interest in dropping in, even though it's the middle of summer, but it's unlikely that we'll be unable to swing it. Maybe on our next trip to Japan!

After parking the car beside the road, we took a brief hike to a picturesque spot with a waterfall, where we enjoyed a picnic lunch. We then hiked a trail to the top of the waterfall, and even farther--about 50 feet up a steep hill with the aid of a chain intalled for that purpose. Halfway up was a miniature shrine, which only the dedicated and/or hardy may access. Another mini-shrine, at which a number of passersby had deposited coins, stood back near the parking lot (if such a teensy patch of ground can be called a lot).

On to our destination, a resort town called Nagatoro. We saw a sign on a shop that advertised "Custom Painting Produce", and asked "Would you like original paint only you?" This is one of the few cases of fractured English we've encountered (although an English brochure at Edo Wonderland declared that geishas "readily function in public"), which is really amazing considering that one sees signs in English everywhere--a far greater number than we'd anticipated.

In Nagatoro, we pulled up at a tour office and bought tickets for a boat ride on the river. Yukari and Toshihide elected to sit it out, as they'd already been there and done that. So we were left with only Ayaka to be our guide and interpreter, and to scuffle with her American brother, Zephyr.

We embarked in a large wooden boat that held about 25 people, plus two steersmen who propelled the vessel with poles--at one point, the pole slipped from the grasp of the lead pilot, and Dennis snatched it out of the water before it floated away. Initially, it seemed a possible cause of concern that even though the seats were padded with flotation cushions, there were no life jackets. And we noticed several kayaks and whitewater rafts manned by people who did have life jackets. But it turned out that even though they were headed in the same direction we were, they adhered to a slightly different--and more turbulent--course. On our itinerary, the water was never more than 3 or 4 feet deep, though we did hit a few rapids to make the ride more thrilling. But thanks to a sheet of plastic attached to the inside of the boat, we were able to shield ourselves from getting heavily splashed. About 5 miles down the river we meandererd, past bathers, fishermen, divers from the bluffs, and campers in tents.

The bus picked us up at again at the end of our cruise, and carried us back to our departure point, where we were rejoined by Yukari and Toshihide. Then we strolled down the main thoroughfare of Nagotoro, lined with shops and restaurants thick with tourists. The town brought to mind memories of Rehoboth Beach, Delaware and Eureka Springs, Arkansas.

At one of the cafes, Yukari and Toshihide bought us a serving of a little treat that they really wanted us to try. They referred to it by a couple of names, including "devil's tongue", which is perhaps the most appropriate designation. It was a roughly fish-shaped thingamajig on a stick, starchy and gelationous, yet rubbery at the same time. Only the dark sauce for dipping it in made it palatable at all. None uf us could finish it, and when asked what we thought of it, we replied that it was certainly different. (The Japanese usually don't say bluntly that they absolutely don't like something, but instead offer a more diplomatic "amari suki ja arimasen", i.e. "I like it not so much", or even "so desu ne...", equivalent to "let me see.." or "well...") We looked for a receptacle where we could dispose of these "treats" discreetly with no one being the wiser. Trouble is, while recycling containers are plentiful here, trash cans can be virtually impossible to find. And yet you seldom see litter--do people just carry their garbage back home with them?

We walked all the way back down to the river and watched the boaters for a while. Even more so we, like many other spectators on the banks, were watching and applauding a diver, a man (and not a particularly young man at that) who would climb onto perches 30 or 40 feet high on the opposite side and make spectacular plunges into what appeared to be perilously shallow water. Either the water was deeper on the far edge than it appeared, or else this fellow was extremely skilled.

Back at home, we all partook of a delicious peach that was sent over especially for the occasion of our visit by Toshihide's father. From what we've seen and read, the Japanese don't eat very much fruit--one reason being that it's prohibitively expensive. Or is it expensive because people don't eat it much? In any case, we've heard of apples selling for the equivalent of 5 dollars each; and while we haven't seen them that high, we have seen them for at least 2 bucks each. And until now we hadn't seen a peach at all. This evidently was a rather uncommon treat; it certainly was a tasty one.

Tonight we watched a rerun of an old TV show about Toyamano Kinsan, the folk character we learned about yesterday. Again, however, it was really the double-identity female who saved the day. We were told that the series was really dramatic rather than comic, but this particular episode was full of broad, campy comedy, rather like the play we watched yesterday.

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