February 26 

I left most my luggage at Oyumino Christian Center, where I got to spend the night.  With my backpack, camera bag, and a few plastic bags I made my way to work.  We went through the leads we’d garnered from the exhibition, I sent off those of out-of-country customers, and we made sure the box with all the exhibits was well packed.  Then I headed around the corner, grabbed a Wendy’s (uendiizu) Double Cheese Curry burger, and phoned Tim. 

Tim, I need to add, lived with my sister Cornelia and four others in Vancouver for two years, and was in Japan for a few weeks house-sitting for a befriended family.  The mother and the youngest daughter had been in England for three weeks with a kimono dyer, and Tim had been taking care of the other two kids.  When I arrived at the station, Tim picked me up with the youngest, Natasha, on his bicycle back seat.  Natasha goes by Natchan, which always reminds me of the Japanese tangerine drink.  She and her mother had just arrived that day, with a broken glass of Marmite in the suitcase.  In contrast to her tired mother, Natchan was dealing with jetlag by going through short-cycle mood swings.  We adults sat, talked, nibbled snacks, and played with her, as much as that was possible.  Then we headed out, me back to the train station, Tim to do groceries, and Natasha to play with her sister Misha and her friends. 

Once again, the sunset atmosphere on the train got to me.  On sunny days at dusk, I always feel like if I boarded that other train on the other platform, it would take me away into some fairy-tale country, the light slowly fading out of the world and leaving behind a spangled sea of neon pinpricks, distance and dimension made a patchwork blur by the train’s motion, much like the warp imagery in science fiction, except that behind most pinpricks hides a person, an uprooted friendly ghost floating past my submarine train.  I know that most likely that other train on that other platform would only take me to yet another rural train station of exquisite ugliness, but there’s no suppressing that longing. 

When I changed in Ikebukuro, I smelled cinnamon and asked the girl at the bakery (called La Pop-po) for whatever it was that smelled of cinnamon.  The girl pointed to a pie about eight inches in diameter, far too much for me.  Fortunately, below it smaller ones sat on display, so I ordered one of those.  Only after ordering did I realize why I hadn’t been able to make out cinnamon on any of the labels: the pie was labeled PotatoApplePie.  And yes, it consisted of a hard lower crust, a semi-sweet filling of mashed potato, and a glazed covering with apple bits.  It was enough for a whole dinner. 

In Gifu, I found sparkling water on the way to the Toyoko Inn, where the room I got looked exactly like the room I’d had a year ago at the Shinjuku Kabukicho Toyoko Inn.  the only difference lay in the welcome gift I chose for having reserved via internet. I chose the following:

Hand-Pressing Flash Light
Simply Shake to Recharge
1. The product is a new science and technology product and made with high and new science and technology.  It can illuminate only placing it in rhythm. 
2. No need any power or environmental pollution.  Low noise and health.  Comparing with common torch it can be several times on lit. 
3. Constantly using this health torch, it can benefit to your palm, arm and shoulder stretching and blood circulation, so as to set your hands relax and brain clever, hand and brain coordination and promote your brain memory and health composition. 

So here I am, relying on a flashlight to make me smarter.  I think when I have kids, that’s what I’ll tell them to get them to do chores.  “Sweeping improves your hand and brain coordination!”  “Shining shoes makes your hands relax and brain clever!”