The car meandered through narrow streets that more closely resembled back-alleys. There was hardly room for one car on the road, when another was approaching head-on, it felt like you were locked into a game of chicken. Not that the sidewalks were any safer; people ride their bikes on the sidewalk all the time here, and try to fuck with you by coming too close. You try to regain your composure, as they laugh it off on their way to school.
Once, during the first few months of my friends arrival in Japan, he was walking one way while three teenage boys, who were riding their bikes and were approaching him head-on. He had made up his mind that we wasn't going to get out of the way this time, and right as the middle boy's bike approached, he dropped his shoulder and sent the kid flying.
Once, during the first few months of my friends arrival in Japan, he was walking one way while three teenage boys, who were riding their bikes and were approaching him head-on. He had made up his mind that we wasn't going to get out of the way this time, and right as the middle boy's bike approached, he dropped his shoulder and sent the kid flying.
"I don't really know where I'm going," my friend admitted with a sheepish grin, as we traded directions and asphalt roads for dirt. "So if we get lost, we may have to ask for help," he added.
"I thought you didn't speak Japanese very well?" I replied.
"I don't." he answered.
I lit a cigarette and rolled the window down just enough to let the smoke escape into the air. "Your Japanese sounded good at class the other day," I said, trying to encourage him.
"Trust me, it isn't. In order to read the paper here, I need to know 2000 Kenji symbols - I only know about 300."
"I guess you'll have to watch tv and let the host read you the paper." I joked.
"It makes no sense to me." he added.
Our car continued through sections of specifically laid out rice fields, which had nothing to show for themselves save the dried, crusted leftovers of the fall harvest. The air was still cool. As we made our way to the foothills of the mountains, the sun played coy with the earth, shyly retreating behind the clouds, and out again, casting curious shadows on the trees in the distance. The farther and farther we moved away from the city, the only people we saw were the occasional tree-trimmer, or farmer.
Along the highway, a tree bearing round fruit shaped like Christmas tree bulbs and coloured orange, gently swayed in the breeze.
"What type of fruit is that?" I asked my friend.
"Ah, I think they're called a persimmon, or something. I don't like them, so I'm not really sure." he answered. "Meg likes them though, try it when we get back."
"Maybe I'll pick one from a tree while we walk." ---
"Can you look at this map. We have to find highway 643, and I don't see it." he interrupted, handing me the folded piece of paper.
"Where are we?" I asked.
He ran his hand over the map, but had to return them to the wheel after the car began to veer off of the road. "Gimme a sec." he barked. Up ahead he noticed a gas station. "I'm going to pull over, gas is cheap today."
"Oil fell to $65 a barrel yesterday," I added. "Cheap gas all over the place."
"Well, it's never really that cheap here because most of it comes from elsewhere." he said. "But, it's cheaper than it has been, so I'll take it."
"That's why I don't have a car," I offered. "Too much money right now. Then again, so is a Happy Meal."
He filled the car as I went into the store to get some hiking essentials - chocolate bars and more cigarettes. I, apparently, had made a pact with myself that while I was on vacation, I would act as if my better judgment was as well. Not that cigarettes here were stronger or anything. The Marlboro Lights I smoked were like smoking a straw. This was the only sign of my stress. Let's be honest, it was either smoke, take out a city block with a big-hairy weapon, or go skydiving with a holey parachute... I chose smoking. Stress makes you feel like the world is limiting your options.
"We need a new soundtrack," my friend said as he plopped himself back down behind the steering wheel.
"Find that Rob Thomas song," I suggested.
He opened the console between us and carelessly rummaged through an assortment of mini-disks. "Maroon 5," he said, before throwing it off the glass of the rear window.
"You're not a fan I take it," I inquired rhetorically.
"It's like every video of theirs is one of his wet-dreams played out." he said.
"Sounds messy." I added.
He popped in a clear disk and began hitting the search button. One, two, three, four; and slowly, the sound of guitar and piano accompaniment filled the car. The voice came next.
It's never easy and you'll never know. What leaves you crying is what makes you whole. There ain't nobody who can show you how to find the surface when you're underground.
"That's a great lyric." he said, as he turned up the dial.
"Appropriate." I said, as I opened a fresh pack of cigarettes.
"That's why you're over here man, to forget about things."
"Feels more like I'm delaying them, than forgetting. I've put them on a shelf for ten days, and sure they'll collect a week's worth of dust, but I'll brush them off when I get home." I said as I exhaled a ploom of smoke. "Hey, stop the car a second!" I shouted.
"Okay, I'll pull in at the parking lot up ahead." he said.
"That's a great photograph. See how the fog is hiding the powerlines, you can just see the tip of the tower." I declared.
In the distance, power lines stretched across the countryside like robotic caterpillars. They were connected at intervals to large metal skeleton-towers, painted red and white. It was the type of juxtaposition I came to love about Japan, power lines and pagodas...21st century, and 1st century in the same shot. I jumped out of the car, opened the back door, and grabbed the camera.
To my dismay, I looked through the lens just in time to witness the fog clear, revealing too much of the tower. "Shit!, the photo's gone," I said.
"It isn't gone, it's just different. You have to find it again." he said, in an attempt to reassure. "Here, let me see the camera." He began firing away, and after about eight clicks, he took the camera away from his eye socket, and held it in front of my face. "Look," he insisted.
After exchanging photos, we capped our lenses and drove off. Not far from where we had just stopped, my friend turned the car suddenly, and took us up a short incline and onto a road atop a ridge that ran between two large vegetable gardens. On the other side of the ridge, a large flood plane snaked under bridges and continued into the mountains ahead. In the middle of the plane, a tiny stream of water trickled along, more closely resembling a natural spring than a river.
"You should see this river when it rains...full...this whole riverbed." he said.
We parked the car and walked along the river, taking pictures of the morning dew clinging to spider webs and flowers.
"Shoot on the apeture setting. You'll get some nice up-close shots of the flowers, and you can blur the backdrop." he instructed, handing me the camera.
"Look at the way the sun creates those shadows on the mountain," he said as I pointed to it.
"Shoot it, you have five-hundred pictures." he said in a stern voice.
"I'll take pictures all day, but I still wish I had the camera out for the cattle love back there!" he said, stuttering my steps as I laughed.
"Should've had the camera on your lap, so you're ready." said my friend.
"Next time. I don't think my girlfriend would appreciate pictures of cows fornicating, funny as it was." I replied.
When we got back in the car, the song came on again.
Will you still be there when the heartache ends?
"Imagine Sean Connery singing this song," my friend said as he and I burst out laughing.
"I thought you didn't speak Japanese very well?" I replied.
"I don't." he answered.
I lit a cigarette and rolled the window down just enough to let the smoke escape into the air. "Your Japanese sounded good at class the other day," I said, trying to encourage him.
"Trust me, it isn't. In order to read the paper here, I need to know 2000 Kenji symbols - I only know about 300."
"I guess you'll have to watch tv and let the host read you the paper." I joked.
"It makes no sense to me." he added.
Our car continued through sections of specifically laid out rice fields, which had nothing to show for themselves save the dried, crusted leftovers of the fall harvest. The air was still cool. As we made our way to the foothills of the mountains, the sun played coy with the earth, shyly retreating behind the clouds, and out again, casting curious shadows on the trees in the distance. The farther and farther we moved away from the city, the only people we saw were the occasional tree-trimmer, or farmer.
Along the highway, a tree bearing round fruit shaped like Christmas tree bulbs and coloured orange, gently swayed in the breeze.
"What type of fruit is that?" I asked my friend.
"Ah, I think they're called a persimmon, or something. I don't like them, so I'm not really sure." he answered. "Meg likes them though, try it when we get back."
"Maybe I'll pick one from a tree while we walk." ---
"Can you look at this map. We have to find highway 643, and I don't see it." he interrupted, handing me the folded piece of paper.
"Where are we?" I asked.
He ran his hand over the map, but had to return them to the wheel after the car began to veer off of the road. "Gimme a sec." he barked. Up ahead he noticed a gas station. "I'm going to pull over, gas is cheap today."
"Oil fell to $65 a barrel yesterday," I added. "Cheap gas all over the place."
"Well, it's never really that cheap here because most of it comes from elsewhere." he said. "But, it's cheaper than it has been, so I'll take it."
"That's why I don't have a car," I offered. "Too much money right now. Then again, so is a Happy Meal."
He filled the car as I went into the store to get some hiking essentials - chocolate bars and more cigarettes. I, apparently, had made a pact with myself that while I was on vacation, I would act as if my better judgment was as well. Not that cigarettes here were stronger or anything. The Marlboro Lights I smoked were like smoking a straw. This was the only sign of my stress. Let's be honest, it was either smoke, take out a city block with a big-hairy weapon, or go skydiving with a holey parachute... I chose smoking. Stress makes you feel like the world is limiting your options.
"We need a new soundtrack," my friend said as he plopped himself back down behind the steering wheel.
"Find that Rob Thomas song," I suggested.
He opened the console between us and carelessly rummaged through an assortment of mini-disks. "Maroon 5," he said, before throwing it off the glass of the rear window.
"You're not a fan I take it," I inquired rhetorically.
"It's like every video of theirs is one of his wet-dreams played out." he said.
"Sounds messy." I added.
He popped in a clear disk and began hitting the search button. One, two, three, four; and slowly, the sound of guitar and piano accompaniment filled the car. The voice came next.
It's never easy and you'll never know. What leaves you crying is what makes you whole. There ain't nobody who can show you how to find the surface when you're underground.
"That's a great lyric." he said, as he turned up the dial.
"Appropriate." I said, as I opened a fresh pack of cigarettes.
"That's why you're over here man, to forget about things."
"Feels more like I'm delaying them, than forgetting. I've put them on a shelf for ten days, and sure they'll collect a week's worth of dust, but I'll brush them off when I get home." I said as I exhaled a ploom of smoke. "Hey, stop the car a second!" I shouted.
"Okay, I'll pull in at the parking lot up ahead." he said.
"That's a great photograph. See how the fog is hiding the powerlines, you can just see the tip of the tower." I declared.
In the distance, power lines stretched across the countryside like robotic caterpillars. They were connected at intervals to large metal skeleton-towers, painted red and white. It was the type of juxtaposition I came to love about Japan, power lines and pagodas...21st century, and 1st century in the same shot. I jumped out of the car, opened the back door, and grabbed the camera.
To my dismay, I looked through the lens just in time to witness the fog clear, revealing too much of the tower. "Shit!, the photo's gone," I said.
"It isn't gone, it's just different. You have to find it again." he said, in an attempt to reassure. "Here, let me see the camera." He began firing away, and after about eight clicks, he took the camera away from his eye socket, and held it in front of my face. "Look," he insisted.
After exchanging photos, we capped our lenses and drove off. Not far from where we had just stopped, my friend turned the car suddenly, and took us up a short incline and onto a road atop a ridge that ran between two large vegetable gardens. On the other side of the ridge, a large flood plane snaked under bridges and continued into the mountains ahead. In the middle of the plane, a tiny stream of water trickled along, more closely resembling a natural spring than a river.
"You should see this river when it rains...full...this whole riverbed." he said.
We parked the car and walked along the river, taking pictures of the morning dew clinging to spider webs and flowers.
"Shoot on the apeture setting. You'll get some nice up-close shots of the flowers, and you can blur the backdrop." he instructed, handing me the camera.
"Look at the way the sun creates those shadows on the mountain," he said as I pointed to it.
"Shoot it, you have five-hundred pictures." he said in a stern voice.
"I'll take pictures all day, but I still wish I had the camera out for the cattle love back there!" he said, stuttering my steps as I laughed.
"Should've had the camera on your lap, so you're ready." said my friend.
"Next time. I don't think my girlfriend would appreciate pictures of cows fornicating, funny as it was." I replied.
When we got back in the car, the song came on again.
Will you still be there when the heartache ends?
"Imagine Sean Connery singing this song," my friend said as he and I burst out laughing.
1 comment:
Your blog keeps getting better and better! Your older articles are not as good as newer ones you have a lot more creativity and originality now keep it up!
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