[whiteperil] Sean Kinsell: Leave your worries behind

[whiteperil at lists.powerblogs.com]

Posted by Sean Kinsell:
Leave your worries behind
http://whiteperil.com/posts/1121744753.shtml


   Good weekend. It was sunny Saturday (it's supposed to be the rainy
   season, remember), so the view from the mountaintop restaurant we went
   to was fantastic. We'd had lunch at a lakeside cafe not far from the
   airport. At one very Japanese moment, we were looking out at the
   (many) dragonflies buzzing around the window. The flightpath to the
   airport was in the middle distance, and suddenly, a landing airliner
   glided into view so that it looked the same size as the dragonflies
   flitting around inches away. They seemed to be playing together for a
   moment. It was beautiful.
   Sunday we went to the hot spring, stopping at an old aqueduct along
   the way. Water is released in a big, frothy arc for 15 minutes at
   noon; along with a lot of other tourists, we were there to take
   pictures and stuff. From there to the inn, Atsushi decided to follow
   the GPS map program's suggested route. Apparently, the suggestions
   were made by dryads. We found ourselves on a one-lane road snaking
   over a mountain, with leaves growing in so closely the car touched
   them on both sides. (They were great for visibility, too. Poor Atsushi
   took a deep breath before every hairpin turn.) Most of the way there
   was no shoulder--and I don't mean they didn't bother to pave anything
   beyond the white line; I mean the vertical dropoff began at the white
   line. At one point, where the forest canopy converged what seemed like
   inches above the car roof, I said, "I keep expecting to see a witch's
   cottage around every bend," at which point my much-tried man muttered,
   "No self-respecting witch would be caught dead living back here."
   The inn was worth it, though. It was new, so there were more man-made
   materials and obvious machines around than one might have liked for a
   hot spring, but you can't get away from that. All the guest huts were
   named for flowering plants. We unfortunately didn't get the one called
   after the flower of Atsushi's family crest, but ours was on a high
   point with a great view of the valley and fields (and ubiquitous
   electrical-line tower--which wasn't nearly as endearing juxtaposed
   with nature as the passenger jet had been). We were in one of the
   baths when the lashing rains and lightning drew near. When I was no
   longer able to count "1-one thousand" between the flash and the boom,
   we decided bath time was over for now.
   The drive back into the city was relatively uneventful. There's a
   national park with flower gardens at the edge of Oita Prefecture, so
   we stopped there. It's lavender season, so the fields were grey with
   it. It looked like purplish steel in the sun. We had lavender-flavored
   ice cream at one of the stands before heading back.
   Needless to say, all of this butching it up took a lot out of me. I'm
   back in Tokyo and headed to the office and may or may not feel up to
   posting tonight. On the other hand, there was an article about Japan
   in Atsushi's latest Time Asia that got my blood boiling--Isn't July a
   little early for such a big turkey? I thought while reading it. I may
   be banging something out about it before bed. Few comments I want to
   respond to, too.
   For now, I leave you with a summer poem by Princess Shokushi:

     =E3=E3=B8=E3=E6=A5=E3=AC=E6=E3=E4=BB=E3=A8=E6=E3=B2=E5=AF=E3=AE=E5=A4=
=A2=E3=AE=E6=E3=AB=E3=AB=E3=BB=E3=B5=E6=A9
     =E5=BC=E5=E5=E8=A6=AA=E7
     kaerikonu / mukashi wo ima to / omohi ne no / yume no makura ni /
     nihofu tachibana=20
     Shokushi Naishinn=F4
     I float into sleep,
     a past that will come no more
     made now in my thoughts--
     at the pillow of that dream
     the scent of orange blossoms
     The Princess Shokushi

   The fragrance of orange blossoms is said to excite the memory. When
   the princess awakes, the scent makes her feel the more keenly that
   some nostalgic memory, which she knows she will never live through
   again, had actually returned to life in her dream. It's a little late
   in the summer for this poem, I think, and it's not one of those with
   500 fascinating allusions you can write a thesis on. Lovely, though.
   Hope everyone else had a wonderful weekend.