vantage of a tadpole

For me poliwogs along with Sea Monkeys are  in that beloved group of creatures that inspire endless wonder.  I love anticipating the metamorphosis looking for the smallest signs in change - budding limbs  and dangling bits of poo.  Ever since I heard the chorus of frogs in our nearby rice paddy, I  knew I'd be catching myself some poliwogs.  So I did, and the past few week's I've been delighted by my new found friends.  This morning, though,  I notices a couple were looking peaked (overzealous feeding on my part?)  We're leaving for on a big trip in a couple of days, so I figure it was time for them to return to whence them came.  It was fun while it lasted.

neighborly

A while back when temperatures were a little cooler (it explains the sweater) Eddy and I came across a vegetable plot filled with promise.  The garden with its small footprint and right-in-the-middle-of the burbs location,  is typical of what you might find here in Shikoku.

This particular plot also came with a tiny bonneted woman who needed some assistance.

With her hands full of spinach, she was doing her best to climb up to her waiting bicycle but didn't have quiet enough momentum to leverage herself up. 

Edo gave her a lift.

And helped with a stray leaf of spinach.

She flashed a grateful smile.

Christmas in Japan

Observations of Living on an Island and Related Good Eats

I'm learning the longer I'm in Japan that places here are often associated with a regional specialty in a way that makes it definitive of the place.  I've heard repeatively phrases like " insert name of place is known or very famous for ..."  or "you must try blank while your in..."   My working hunch that this kind of associating has something to do with a nation/culture built of a series of islands.

So what better way to test the truth of claims than to sample them myself.  With friend Bret and Angelina as guides, Eddy and I headed south to nearby Kochi in search of famous knives and fish.   The day began on a screamingly gorgeous fall day at the Sunday market where we found stall after stall of loveliness.

Ladies in aprons and sweet displays.

Giant shitake.

More giants, this time diakon (please use the woman's arm for scale reference.)

For lunch we checked the 'fish' off our to-do list with a sublime meal of katsuo no tataki, flame-seared mackerel.  The fish was paired with thinly sliced raw garlic and dishes of soy sauce, fresh ponzu juice, and coarse sea salt.   It was achingly delicious; sweet, smoked and oh so, buttery.


Up on a hill Kochi Castle which reminded me of the first time I saw castles along the Rhine in Germany.  Sheesh, I mean these places really exist?

 

Grannies in Japan rock the sweetest helmets.

 My treasures from Kochi:

A beautiful bottle of fresh yuzu juice and a bag of gingko nuts.
The lady who sold me the juice was a peach, she gifted me with few fresh yuzu . 

Tiny saucers for side dishes and pickles.

Finally my own piece of famed Kochi steel and friend whetstone.

I just love the graphic simplicity.

After coming home I can't say that I came to any real conclusions regarding my theory. But what I did find was edible treasures that exceeded my expectations and meal worth remembering. Big thanks Angelina and Bret for showing us the south side of our little island.

Matsuri in a Nutshell

Day 1:  Before Dawn
What has felt like a marathon of sorts is finally over: taiko matsuri.

From what I understand matsuri began as a harvest festival has evolved into a communal celebration of beating drums and civic pride.  For us, festivities began before dawn on Friday when we awoke to imminent drums and chants.

Along with friends Michiko and Yoshimi, Eddy and I watched hundreds men sing heroically while carrying taikodai the size of a front-end of a semi.  Later we joined the procession up the mountain side to Utsunomiya Jinja where several taikodai would be blessed. 

At our own risk we were allowed to get as close as we dared— no cordons, no officials—a refreshing blending of boundaries.  We became participants.

There was plenty people watching; gals negotiating stairs in stilettos, artfully teased hair, and enough chain smoking to rival a fog machine.

And with daybreak came the precarious descent.


Day 2:  Competition

Like counties in the States, Niihama is broken into 50 boroughs with most having a representative taikodai, 20 of which came to Yamane Park to compete for bragging rights. 

While Day 1 was all about ritual.  Day 2 was pure performance and glory.  The floats entered the park staged as an arena filled with thousands of spectators and like randy birds the taikodai preened.










Day 3: Fighting
It's a fact that due to elevated levels of testosterone, alcohol, and tradition, fights between taikodai often ensue and are frankly expected.  We went to the Sumitomo factory area a place known for its fighting potential to watch.

Essentially the fighting involves the teams ramming the floats into one another in attempt to either damage or destroy.  I didn't see any evidence of destruction but I was also preoccupied, avoiding rushing floats and plotting escape routes in the event of a stampede.  Nuts!

Day 4: Floating
I must admit by Days 3 and 4 I was matsuri-ed out, but I pushed onward for one last hurrah to the northern section of town to watch the taikodais float to sea. 



A fitting end.

Matsuri was an experience that surprised me.  Perhaps it was cultural novelty or simply not knowing, but it gave me in its spectacle, the joy that comes with childhood and renewed belief in humans.  All it took was drums, men carrying heavy things, spectators, friends, and a little magic.

Made it

Riding the train from Takamatsu the final leg of my trip to Niihama.