Stepping out of the choking humidity into the blissfully air-conditioned bus, I felt a weight lift itself not just off my shoulders, but off of my entire body. Summer has come. Not full-force yet, but the vanguard has arrived.
And they have already started setting traps for the unwary... Tonight on the way home from work I was clotheslined by my first spiderweb of the year. It was barely anything, just a few light strands of silk. A mere suggestion of what is to come, like the sole concert A played by a violinist before the start of a dramatic orchestral piece. Had this been August, I might not still be here to blog about it. As I wiped the sticky strands from my face, horrific memories of the grim architectural creations of these monsters began to creep out of the dark corners of my memory. Evil, twisted, gnarly sticky webs, meters in length, nearly the size of the trees that bore them. Ghastly three-dimensional towers of death, sometimes with five or six giant spiders sitting in wait for whatever prey may come along. Massive, deep networks of threads stronger than steel, probably big enough to immobilize a baby or small dog.
We recently had a scourge of caterpillars that nearly ate the trees bare, and now there are brown moths everywhere. And now that the season has started, out come the dani (ticks that live in tatami floor mats) and poisonous centipedes!
Japanese summer is never dull.
28 June 2007
22 June 2007
The Last Train
About two weeks ago, we had a farewell party for my coworker Eriko. It was held near work, so my last bus was pretty early - 10:50. As always, it took me longer than I expected to extract myself from the party, and I ended up missing my bus by about a minute.
However, due to the brilliant planning of the engineers who designed the Nara Kotsu bus system, the last bus arrives substantially earlier than the last train leaves. So, in addition to the 7-10-minute bus trip, I had an extra 10-15 minutes of margin, assuming I could get to the station in time.
Now, I've walked several times, and it takes about 30-35 minutes, depending on how much stuff I'm carrying. So my thinking was, if I can jog the whole way, I can get there in just under 20 minutes, and that should get me there in time for the train. So I flew out the door, clutching my bag, feet pounding the pavement.
After about 10-15 minutes of this, it became obvious that I wasn't going to make it in time. My starting point had been further from the station than I had internally modeled, and my bag was kind of heavy, making it difficult to run. I switched to plan B, and stuck out my thumb.
Unfortunately, working in the sticks like I do, there are very few passing cars. So I alternated jogging and trying to hitchhike. The first four cars passed by me with no hesitation. After another few minutes, a fifth car came by and I saw brake lights up ahead.
The guys who gave me a ride were bored college students out for a drive in the middle of the night. They seemed entertained at the novelty of picking up a foreign guy hitchhiking out in the middle of nowhere, and they were happy to take me to the station.
As I thanked them and got out of the car by the station, I looked at my watch. I had missed the last train by about 2 minutes! Nooooooooo!
However, I went up to the platform anyway. There are one or two trains after my last train that go about 1/3 of the way to the city, which is better than nothing if I have to take a taxi the rest of the way.
Strangely, my train was sitting there for me.
With the lights out.
And passengers sitting inside.
I was thoroughly confused for a moment, until an announcement came over the loudspeaker saying that somebody had jumped into the tracks a few stations down, and they were busy cleaning up the body parts. (Well, not so explicitly, but they announced an "accident involving human injury" and said that they had turned off the power so that station staff could go down into the tracks, which is the same thing). Suicide by jumping in front of the trains is a popular pastime in Japan.
So I sat down in the dark train car, still sweating profusely from my run, reflecting on the fact that someone gave their life to enable me to catch my last train home.
My last train of the night.
Someone's last train ever.
However, due to the brilliant planning of the engineers who designed the Nara Kotsu bus system, the last bus arrives substantially earlier than the last train leaves. So, in addition to the 7-10-minute bus trip, I had an extra 10-15 minutes of margin, assuming I could get to the station in time.
Now, I've walked several times, and it takes about 30-35 minutes, depending on how much stuff I'm carrying. So my thinking was, if I can jog the whole way, I can get there in just under 20 minutes, and that should get me there in time for the train. So I flew out the door, clutching my bag, feet pounding the pavement.
After about 10-15 minutes of this, it became obvious that I wasn't going to make it in time. My starting point had been further from the station than I had internally modeled, and my bag was kind of heavy, making it difficult to run. I switched to plan B, and stuck out my thumb.
Unfortunately, working in the sticks like I do, there are very few passing cars. So I alternated jogging and trying to hitchhike. The first four cars passed by me with no hesitation. After another few minutes, a fifth car came by and I saw brake lights up ahead.
The guys who gave me a ride were bored college students out for a drive in the middle of the night. They seemed entertained at the novelty of picking up a foreign guy hitchhiking out in the middle of nowhere, and they were happy to take me to the station.
As I thanked them and got out of the car by the station, I looked at my watch. I had missed the last train by about 2 minutes! Nooooooooo!
However, I went up to the platform anyway. There are one or two trains after my last train that go about 1/3 of the way to the city, which is better than nothing if I have to take a taxi the rest of the way.
Strangely, my train was sitting there for me.
With the lights out.
And passengers sitting inside.
I was thoroughly confused for a moment, until an announcement came over the loudspeaker saying that somebody had jumped into the tracks a few stations down, and they were busy cleaning up the body parts. (Well, not so explicitly, but they announced an "accident involving human injury" and said that they had turned off the power so that station staff could go down into the tracks, which is the same thing). Suicide by jumping in front of the trains is a popular pastime in Japan.
So I sat down in the dark train car, still sweating profusely from my run, reflecting on the fact that someone gave their life to enable me to catch my last train home.
My last train of the night.
Someone's last train ever.
14 June 2007
Cucumber Pepsi
Ok, so I saw this light-green bottle labeled "ICE CUCUMBER" in the convenience store and had to buy it. It's the latest drink from Pepsi, and I think it's a limited-time trial only in Japan. At least I hope so.
The inscription on the label:
Which roughly means:
I guess I was hoping for an actual light, refreshing cucumber drink. Instead, it turned out to be a light-refreshing-cucumber-colored cola. I personally have always despised the sickly-sweet and harsh taste of cola. There did seem to be a slight scent of fake cucumber, or something like that, but really I was unable to distinguish the flavor from standard cola.
Anyway, um... nice try, Pepsi.
The inscription on the label:
CUCUMBER (キューカンバー)とは
英語でキュウリのこと。
コーラとキュウリ、驚きの
コンビネーションの爽やかなコーラ！
Which roughly means:
"CUCUMBER" means "kyuuri" in English.
The surprising combination of cola and cucumber
makes a refreshing cola!
I guess I was hoping for an actual light, refreshing cucumber drink. Instead, it turned out to be a light-refreshing-cucumber-colored cola. I personally have always despised the sickly-sweet and harsh taste of cola. There did seem to be a slight scent of fake cucumber, or something like that, but really I was unable to distinguish the flavor from standard cola.
Anyway, um... nice try, Pepsi.
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