The Kanatani's
After almost two weeks hanging out at Hiromi's house, I leave this afternoon for the Nametoko English Camp. I'd much prefer not to. Life at the Kanatani house is heaven. When I wake up in the morning, Hiromi has breakfast waiting for me on the kitchen counter: a bowl of salad and a piece of fluffy homemade toast. We chat about the plans for the day and I study Japanese while she reads the newspaper and does random chores around the house. In the morning we usually go visit people or entertain someone here at the house. I carry about a miniature notebook and write down all the new words I learn during these interactions. In the afternoon, she teaches piano lessons and I play on the computer, reading academic articles on PDF and writing in my journal. When I need a break, I bring in and fold the laundry or take Sora-kun for a walk around the rice paddies. Inevitably, there's some visitor who stops by, a person from the neighborhood or one of the guys working on the remodeling. I invite them in or receive whatever message or gift they have. Hiromi loves the fact that no one is surprised when a foreigner answers her door. She introduces me to everyone as her oldest daughter. I've heard her explain this a couple of times: no, this isn't a homestay experience; yes, she really is like a daughter. I just stand there and smile at the bemused visitor.
In the evening, as she cooks dinner, I sit at the counter and keep her company, with half of my attention on my Japanese textbook and half on her immaculate cooking skills. The food is wonderful: shashimi, nitsuke fish, grilled fish, black sesame tofu, Okinawan tofu, tempura, temaki sushi rolls, salad, pumpkin and eggplant stirfries with teage tofu and, last night, my all time favorite, shiraae, ground tofu with sesame seeds and spinach. She and Toshio drink beer and shochu on the rocks with the meal. I have a can of flavored chu-hai shochu. We always finish off with fruit and then Toshio turns on the TV and we veg out over silly variety shows and disturbing news programs chronicling the recent floods and murders in northern Japan. I help Hiromi clean up the dinner table and Toshio falls asleep on the couch. He always falls asleep on the couch and we always tease him about his snoring. It's become routine. We take turns going to the bath and, before we head for bed, Hiromi and I do some yoga on the new wooden floors.
Everything I do here feels like it's good for me. I'll have to get back to you on how the missionaries are fairing these days. I'll be up in the mountains with the monkeys and the Christians for 10 days. Wish me some Nametoko luck ne.
In the evening, as she cooks dinner, I sit at the counter and keep her company, with half of my attention on my Japanese textbook and half on her immaculate cooking skills. The food is wonderful: shashimi, nitsuke fish, grilled fish, black sesame tofu, Okinawan tofu, tempura, temaki sushi rolls, salad, pumpkin and eggplant stirfries with teage tofu and, last night, my all time favorite, shiraae, ground tofu with sesame seeds and spinach. She and Toshio drink beer and shochu on the rocks with the meal. I have a can of flavored chu-hai shochu. We always finish off with fruit and then Toshio turns on the TV and we veg out over silly variety shows and disturbing news programs chronicling the recent floods and murders in northern Japan. I help Hiromi clean up the dinner table and Toshio falls asleep on the couch. He always falls asleep on the couch and we always tease him about his snoring. It's become routine. We take turns going to the bath and, before we head for bed, Hiromi and I do some yoga on the new wooden floors.
Everything I do here feels like it's good for me. I'll have to get back to you on how the missionaries are fairing these days. I'll be up in the mountains with the monkeys and the Christians for 10 days. Wish me some Nametoko luck ne.