I grew up taking summer, Christmas, and Easter road trips with my parents and brother. My seat of choice was always behind the driver. But this time, I was in the driver's seat driving my parents east through the mountains. When we finally emerged on the other side, the day had cleared and warmed up. Still, Ofunato was about 4 degrees Celsius cooler than Kitakami, complete with a chilly sea breeze. At Goishi, the wild lilies were all in bloom. There were also birds dodging between the trees.
The tide was coming in, so the Kamiiwa "Thunder Rock" wasn't quiet so thunderous, but it was impressive. We looked out at the water and saw the wakame nets waiting for harvest in the coming months. Then we continued down to the rocky beach. Mom and I kicked off our shoes and we waded into the icy water. Every so often, we'd be surprised by a big surge and scream in delight. Our sissy squeals were put to shame when a grandfather and his grandson came down and dove right into the waves to snorkel a tad.
Mom, Dad and I listened to one of the 100 Soundscapes of Japan and looked for bits of shell. I wandered around a corner and stood on a smooth, lumpy rock out of the water. My little inlet had a large rock wall behind me and the cove in front. As Mom came around to stand in front of me, her big smile was replaced with a shriek as a wave rolled in.
She started hopping around and then she looked up at me, mouth wide open in astonishment.
"Did you see the fish?!" she shouted over the waves.
"What fish?" I shouted back. I didn't see no stinking fish.
Then, the next wave rolled in and two dozen dark teal mackerel were flopping on the stones behind me! Their 7 inch bodies twitched and flipped, sparking in the light, orange mouths frantically gasping. We squealed like children. As each little wave came in, we realized the fish were either not being reached or were being pushed further up the beach. Finally, we took action and started scooping up fish.
Of course, they kept flipping around in our hands, so the best we could do was scoot them back to the water. When they were deep enough, they'd arch up out of the water, using their tails to give a moon-walking adieu to their saviors.
Inside, we sat at the table with the sunken fish tank and ordered katsudon sets. While we ate, we watched the news and were alarmed to learn Typhoon Halong was headed for southern Japan. Our plans were to meet in Fukuoka on Sunday and go to Sasebo for a few days to do some family research. But with this typhoon, we had to change plans. Now, we're meeting in Kyoto on Saturday and sticking out the weather until Sunday afternoon or so.
This actually has an upside: I've secured a sake brewery tour for us on Sunday, so rain or shine, we'll be drunk and happy. What else could we ask for?
After the weather, the news story turned to a tribute of the Hiroshima bombing. The story was about a Japanese artist who collects other survivors' paintings of their impressions of the bombing. The visuals were very sad. We tried to keep our conversation light, but after a few minutes I think the owner noticed our discomfort and changed the channel to baseball.
That was really very kind of him.
When we got back to town, I dropped of Mom and Dad at the hotel to shower and relax before the fireworks show. My motives were highly ulterior. I raced back and showered then slipped into a dark blue yukata with blue and white chrysanthemums. The yukata part was easy. The obi's a bitch. It took a few tries. Too tight and it made my hips stick out like I'd swallowed a dinner plate. Too loose and the whole thing falls down. After a couple attempts, it was good enough and I was out the door.
It felt good. And not just comfortable good. I mean it felt good to wear a traditional style in public. I'm used to wearing a ryokan yukata around my apartment. But never around town. Some older women wear yukata and casual kimono if there's a graduation or maybe an event later or just because, but it's not an every day thing. It was cool to be a part of this special tradition for a change.
When I finally got to the hotel, Mom was waiting on a low wall across the parking lot. I was a little late, so Dad was off looking for me in the train station access tunnel. I had to call out to get my mother to see me and I will never ever forget her face. It's the face of a parent who picks their kid out of the other faces in the school band onstage.
For the rest of the evening, we walked along the promenade across the river from Tenshochi Park, waiting for the show. Once in a while, we'd run into a small group of my students. On my parents' second night in Kitakami, two of my students were getting ready to play a musical performance outside of a restaurant during the parade. They called to me and after a little talking, I showed them my parents and urged these boys to introduce themselves to my folks with their English. A+'s all around.
These other groups were enthusiastic about seeing their ALT in a yukata and then were blown away by meeting my parents. And they thought I was weird.
We found a good spot against the cement wall to watch the show. The theme was "Happy" so songs like "Happy" and "If You're Happy and You Know It" were played along with some classic bits, oddly enough a Christmas carol and of course...
"Let It Go." Lights under the bridge suddenly flared to life and waterfall sparklers fell into the river in a thick cascade of light. Little boats of water drifted down the river all night, in front of torches on the bank reflected in the water. But the fireworks got all the attention. They really were amazing. I'd look back and watch my parents watching. Dad looked like he was having a good time and every so often, Mom would laugh out loud.
After the show, we got some food and took it back to the hotel where I could untie my obi and relax and we could review the plan for the next day.
No comments:
Post a Comment