Time Passages

A view of Mt. Fuji from Ashina Beach at sunset.

Summers away from my life in Japan usually result in sharper delineations of certain markers of passing time upon my return; these markers stand distinct and do not merge into the blended shapes and colors of the continually passing panorama of my existence all because my summers unfold on such a separate panoramic stage.


SUNSET:

• The mama-san who lived in the big house next door--my landlord's mother--died sometime during the summer. She was in her 90s. Teeny tiny with a pronounced dowager's hump, she puttered away in the various gardens of our combined yard in the morning coolness and soft light of the rising sun. The small plot of vegetation in front of my house has never before looked so wild or so bedraggled.
  


• In August I returned to a Yokosuka where none of those with whom I've regularly traveled or hung out during my four-year sojourn here in Japan still reside. No movie buddies, no sushi buddies, no political discussion buddies, no Tokyo-jaunt buddies, no water aerobics buddies, no buddies--they have all moved on.

SUNRISE:

• Godiva Chocoiste: Dark Chocolate Cherries. Linda, the math teacher in the classroom next door, invited me to her birthday party, but because of a prior commitment with the church youth group, I could not go. Since Linda openly confesses a chocolate addiction, I decided chocolate would make a worthy gift. At the NEX I perused the chocolate section of the candy aisle and ultimately collected a stash of pedigreed goods: Lindt, Ghirardelli, Godiva, Cadbury. While scrutinizing the Godiva profferings in behalf of Linda, I discovered the existence of Godiva Chocoiste: Dark Chocolate Cherries. Although never a fan of those chocolate cherries fashioned with a maraschino cherry center swimming in a sickly sweet viscous fluid encased in a milk chocolate shell, I really like cherries and dark chocolate assuages even my guiltiest of hungers...and these morsels, according to the description on the package, were a perfect concoction for me: dried, tart cherries fully encompassed by dark, dark chocolate. I purchased a bag for me--not Linda, because who knew if she liked cherries, right?! Once in the car, I sampled and instantly attained devoted fan status. Now I have a ritual--one, I admit, majorly invoked to ration the contents of a given package (as they are rather pricey) and to discipline my fanatical desire: When I arrive home, I am allowed one foray into the deepest, darkest corner of the frig to retrieve the zip-lock bag of chocolate covered cherries; I remove six--eight, if the day warrants such or if one of the pieces is woefully small--and lay them on the counter to "thaw" for a few minutes while I take care of other "arriving home" activities; and then, when the lull emerges from the flurry, I surrender to ecstatic indulgence.
  


• This fall I have dabbled a wee bit with the culinary arts--very wee, actually, but any engagement by me with the "culinary arts" is quite a monumental moment in my personal history! While staying at the Lodge on the Amazon River in Peru last summer, my favorite dish in the array of lunch and dinner buffets was always the rice and beans...which surprised me just a bit because all of the food prepared was delicious. And I got to thinking that even someone like me, the antithesis of domestic goddess, might be able to manage the cooking of rice and beans...especially since I own a rice cooker and beans do come in cans! At the family reunion later in the summer I requested a "recipe" from my niece Carol, the family's resident expert on rice and beans; she served a church mission in Brazil and while there became a devotee of the dish herself. Now Carol is a purest and far more capable in kitchen matters and I; she buys dry beans and does the whole shebang--including the the use of a pressure cooker--to bring the beans to an edible state, but some of the suggestions she offered I have employed. As forementioned, I use beans from a can, but I have attained a measure of success with my rice and beans end product: I have never thrown out left-overs of rice and beans (something I tend to do quite regularly with other attempted meals cooked by me), and when I heated some left-over beans and rice in the microwave at school one day, I had three colleagues comment how good my lunch smelled!

• Philip, one of my students from last year, one of those students who takes over a piece of your heart and establishes a permanent residence in your memory, finally brought me a can of the energy drink Monster by way of his sister Melissa, one of my students this year. He threatened to bring me one all last year to supplant my Diet Coke, but I wouldn't commit to drinking a whole can, only to tasting it. By November, more acquainted with my "drinking" style, he agreed that maybe drinking an entire can might "kill" me, and he didn't want to be responsible for that, of course! Although sporadic talk of a Monster taste test continued for the rest of the year, it never happened. However, at the moment, I have a can of Monster in my refrigerator. I still haven't tasted it, despite having it in my possession for at least three weeks. Do you think it would "kill" me?

Typhoon Melor: The Aftermath

Then, this typhoon Thursday, we had high winds with sunshine from mid-morning until early afternoon. By 1:30 the wind had diminished enough to permit another foray into the outside world. Of course I headed back down to the sea. After all, I did want to check out the possibilities of a late afternoon run along the coast road if the wind should calm just a tad more. Well, a run along the coast road won't be happening any time later today; perhaps with Japanese industry and efficiency in play, maybe Saturday I can have that particular run.

Even with four years living in the same Ashina location, I have never before seen damage of this magnitude after a storm. Usually only flung palm fronds and sand spew across the road and walkways at vulnerable points--the non-evaporating evidence of heavy surf splashing over sea walls--mark the history of a passing storm.



THE LATEST PHOTOS:

Here is the beach road, the one that runs parallel with the sea, my preferred running route. (And no wonder the police set up a barricade barring entrance onto it during the storm.)



That is sand covering the pavement of the road, by the way--remains of the surging sea swell.

Several fishing shacks lining the sea-side edge of the road collapsed and washed onto the road.



These next two photos I took from the small shrine on the bluff above the sea where I took photos earlier in the day. (See previous post for a comparison.)


You can see quite a few people (center left) engaged in clean-up where the fishing shacks collapsed.

What's left of fishing shack row:

Here is an expanse of sea wall, one of my favorite stretches on my running route because the sea is close and the views are stunning. The sea broke it today.

More aftermath:

These palms have learned the art of surviving!

Typhoon Melor

The beginning: On Sunday sunny skies prevailed, but cloudy skies with accompanying stretches of rain, usually drizzly, moved in on Monday and maintained a "weatherly" presence through Wednesday. Wednesday afternoon our principal scooted all the teachers out of the building right after the students departed at 2:10. We had previously received notification (before noon) that complex schools for Yokosuka Navy Base would be closed on Thursday due to the impending arrival of Typhoon Melor. In it's first days of existence while residing in more southern latitudes, Melor rated a "Super Typhoon" designation, a title commensurate with a category 5 hurricane. The cooler waters it has encountered in its northward travels have weakened it; at landfall on the island of Honshu, Japan's mainland, it was expected to be a category 2 storm. At one point Melor's eye had been forecast to pass 30 miles from Yokosuka. In capricious storm fashion, though, Melor's path shifted to a more southerly landfall moment. When I arrived home late Wednesday afternoon, I slid storm shutters over the windows of my house and prepared to hunker down. Nighttime brought some hard rain and occasional wind gusts.

Now Thursday has dawned with heightening wind but also sunshine moments. As one fully mesmerized by the sea and frequently intrigued by storms, I succumbed to temptation just before nine this morning and ventured outside. Ah, silly me, I chided myself, noting the bouncing power lines above and a scattering of snapped branches on the road, this could be why one is cautioned to stay inside, and then I continued enroute to the sea. It is only a three to four minute walk to the sea from my house. As I neared the place where my road intersects the one running parallel to the sea, a clot of cars jammed the approach. Momentary reconaissance of the scene showed a police blockade of the beach road to all traffic. Thanks to the manifold meanderings I undertook during my week of recuperation after appendicitis (the doctor told me to walk as much as possible and I did), I knew an alternate route up a bluff to a small shrine overlooking the sea. However, with closer proximity to the sea, the wind kept a more constant presence and grew ever rougher. Leaves and broken branches fully carpeted the lane; some glistening shards of glass directed my eyes to the frame of a blown out window. At the shrine I finally witnessed the sea within command of the approaching storm. Truely the power of nature is a marvel...and so very humbling.

So I am safely returned to my home as I type these words. The wind has increased to its fiercest level yet. It is almost 11:00 in the morning.

I did take some photos while at the shrine this earlier, but first I have some photos to show of the same general area, ones taken several weeks ago under more conventional circumstances.

Okay, here are the photos taken today. The beach road that runs parallel to the sea--part of my usual running route--lies in front of that gray house shown in the photo below.

That white boat (above) seemed to be loose.