So far, the fall weather in Seattle has been great. That is to say, it hasn’t been the typical gray, gloomy, dreary weather we generally have this time of year. Rather than the claustrophobic descent of a damp, gray ceiling of clouds, the weather has been interesting — stormy, windy, warm, hard rains and periods of sun breaks with beautiful cloud formations that tumble across the sky or which provide a canvas for evening light, as in the photo above.
Local Seattle supermarket chain Metropolitan Market used to be known in these parts as Thriftway. A makeover or a takeover in the past few years brought a new name… and a new logo.
Is that a mutant ‘m’ there? Might not be the best symbol for a grocer in these days of genetically-modified foods. When I look at the logo I see Blinky, the three-eyed fish of Simpsons fame.
While looking through some old photos, my father came across this one of my grandfather on Mt. Fuji. The caption on the back of the photo — in my grandmother’s handwriting — reads: “Paul V. Gerhard on the summit of Fuji San Jan. 1, 1934.” I’m not sure of the accuracy of that date, since in her memoirs my grandmother mentions that my grandfather climbed Fuji “with two friends on December 31, 1935.”
The weather on the mountain in this photo looks beautiful, though cold, of course. I could’ve used a jacket with that kind of hood on my hike last fall.
I’ve added this photo to my Four Generations On Fuji-San entry.
When I was up in Alaska last week, my father showed me an old calendar that must have belonged to my great-grandparents. The calendar is a collection of prints by the Japanese artist, Hokusai. It’s from 1910, the year of my grandmother’s birth, and it has her birth date circled in August.
Speaking of group shots, here’s one of a collection of amazing friends that I miss so very much already. Shibuya, 11pm on a Saturday night. One last coming together before half of us scattered to different parts of the world. Miss you all. And I promise to get the rest of the photos posted online soon.
While in Korea, on an overnight trip to Songnisan National Park, my friend, Jason, and I encountered a troop of Korean soldiers on a training hike. We met at the top of a mountain, on a rock formation that acted as a viewing platform for the surrounding countryside.
The soldiers pretty much ignored us until I asked if I could get a photo with some of them. Within seconds, we were surrounded by the whole troop.
I’m at Narita airport, waiting for my plane to take me back to Seattle. Somehow, one year of my life has passed by in the blink of an eye.
I can’t remember how long I’ve just assumed I’d live in Japan one day. It seems like something I’ve always planned on doing. This country has been in my conscious since a very early age, when I’d hear stories from my grandparents of their lives here in the early 20th century. I grew up having scraps of Japanese culture, language and cuisine weaving a cord between me and an exotic country across the sea.
My first visit to Japan was in 1981, when I was 13 years old. Nortoriously unadventurous at that time when it came to food, I suvived on rice, seaweed and two trips to McDonalds. Despite my lack of culinary adventure, the trip left a huge impression on me and I’ve wanted to return every since.
And now here I am at the end of a year of my life lived in Japan. Despite being excited about returning to the States to see family and friends, I have mixed feelings about leaving after only one year. It seems too short a time, really, to come to any fair conclusions as to what type of place Japan really is.
And as I write this, I’m having trouble coming up with anything like a neat summary of my time and of my experiences here. My mind is kind of mush now after three weeks of being uprooted — traveling, as well as leaving one life behind and returning to another I haven’t occupied for a year.
So, no deep thoughts at this point. Only a mention that I know I’ll be back one day.
There’s nothing like riding your bike on a hot day with a backpack crammed full of explosives.
Picked up enough fireworks earlier today for plenty of fun by the riverside tonight. I have no idea what I bought, but the two big bags look like they’re made for Pyro Barbie.
I went to the local immigration office this morning to get my re-entry permit, required with my visa if I leave the country and plan to return.
The office was staffed by your run-of-the-mill, grumpy, low-level bureaucrats. No additional information is given unless specifically asked for, including the fact that you have to pay for the permit with a special revenue stamp (seen above) that must be purchased at a building across the street — a major thoroughfare with no convenient crosswalks, meaning a game of live Frogger is necessary.
It was refreshing to see some diversity at the immigration office. There was a huge family from China, some Brazilians, and assorted other foreigners, creating a buzz of languages other than Japanese. Although Tokyo has a decent mix of people, finding ethnic diversity in the outlying areas of Japan is largely limited to the handful of Thai, Filipino and Russian bar hostesses and to the western English teachers. A melting pot it’s not. I’m looking forward to getting back to a more multi-cultural society. And I’m so looking forward to a break from the sticking-out-like-a-sore-thumb syndrome.
My gym has a campaign going (“campaigns” are big in Japan — big marketing pushes to get people to buy something). The artwork in one of the campaign brochures features an array of freakishly developed humanoids exercising, relaxing and socializing at the gym. Workout trends change so quickly. When did the rack become a popular exercise machine?