March 3 

After a breakfast similar in spirit to dinner I walked downhill through the deserted town, over the fake wooden bridge and past the elementary school to the bus stop.  I called Olivier briefly to let him know when I might arrive in his area and walked back to the stop.  A bus with Shinjuku on the rear display sat in the parking lot and as I debated whether to ask if that was mine, it left, a few minutes before the scheduled time for my bus.  Those few minutes became minutes of intense worry – I don’t know why I get so caught up in hypotheticals.  I was off on tangents thinking of how I’d hitchhike to Tokyo or whom I’d complain to.  Pointless, as it turned out, when the bus arrived perhaps two minutes late. 

We left the parking lot and slowly climbed up the highway along the flank of the mountains, with the long tongue-shaped spur climbing up at the same rate in the middle of the valley.  At the top we passed through several tunnels, the longest of which, through Mount Ena, measured 8940 meters.  The bus rolled along at a leisurely 80 km/h, which a sign in the bus explained was the safe highway speed.  To me, it felt frustrating in its slowness. 

We stopped at a few other rest areas, and at the lake Suwa rest area I bought another gohei-mochi, only realizing after purchase that this one was made with a miso paste sauce instead ot the walnut sauce.  It was a let-down despite tasting good. 

We arrived at Shinjuku four and a half hours after setting out and I made my way to Osaki to check in to the hotel for the night, the New Otani Inn.  I dumped most my stuff and went off to Kanazawa in the Kanagawa prefecture, where I met with Olivier and his family, Etsuko and eight-month-old Léon.  Olivier and I had studied Japanese together with Stefan in Kanazawa in the Ishikawa prefecture in preparation for our internships back in 2001, and Olivier had now just moved to Japan for a job with a Japanese subsidiary of a Swiss company. 

I arrived just as the first load of furniture had been delivered – Olivier and Etsuko were still staying in a “weekly mansion” until they had moved into their house.  I helped set up one couch and partly set up the other – one screw wouldn’t find its thread.  Then, I helped Olivier scratch up the floor in our eventually successful attempt at moving their fridge up a flight of stairs.  I think Olivier will give a substantial rebate to a future buyer if he moves the fridge out himself. 

We walked around the town a bit, toured the 100yen-shops, and had coffee together.  I thought Olivier would help me eat the sweets, but his cold meant swallowing felt painful and he wasn’t about to indulge in gratuitous swallowing.  We returned with drinks for everyone, and sat and chatted as we waited for the mattress to be delivered.  Léon spent most his time playing with pet bottles, slippers, and trying to take giant steps whenever someone held him upright.  Once you had him like that, it was impossible to sit him down, because he’d simply lock his legs and instead of sitting would just tilt over.  He had the habit of turning away from the direction in which he was being held, earning him the nickname Mawariman. 

We left for our respective temporary lodgings once the mattress arrived, and I got to experience firsthand how having a cute baby in tow can make it difficult to talk to your wife.  Olivier said sometimes they’d make a 20-minute trip without ever being able to talk to each other. 

Back in Osaki I realized that I wasn’t able to connect to the internet, even though there was a jack in the desk that said “Computer.”  I complained at the reception until they moved me to the internet-enabled floor, which was a smoking floor.  Faced with the prospect of having to spend another night in a smoking room or without internet for more than twice the Toyoko Inn rate, I canceled my reservation and reserved a room at the Chiba Toyoko Inn.  If someone wants to sponsor my writing up a trip from one Toyoko Inn to the next, in ascending numerical order, I’m all ears.