Japan Exodus - Day 40: Consumption Adjustments

Today is the last day of Golden Week for those who have obligation on Friday. Unfortunately my friend Go is included in this round up and he had to depart for Osaka once again. With him he takes a taste of the best ramen in Japan, a two days ride to an Australian beach, lots of good jokes, and a new English word I turned him on to: ideal. When he asked what word he could use to describe something which did not contain any unwanted elements, and I thought this word fitted nicely.

I take with me a route to the Southern tip of Wakayama prefecture, which reminds me a lot like the southern tip of Shikoku at Muroto. The wind pushes you down one way, and then hits you in the face as you make the big turn and start making a way North again.

Cycling alone makes for good distance because you are on your own schedule. You leave as soon as you are done using the toilet, eating your snack, or taking that photo. And so, I was able to make some good distance today after waking up between two palm trees that reminded me of home. 

Going around mountain turns in Japan is like starting a small new chapter in life. You really don't know if the summit awaits you, if there is a car overtaking another and crowding you lane, or if you will run into a 67 year old Japanese hippie man pushing his mamachari up a hill. (A mamachari is like a beach cruiser, usually one speed with 26in tires used for going to the grocery store or small trips around town.) Really, a bike tour on one speed? Just when I thought I was hard core going at it alone, I am humbled. 

I called out to him in Japanese, but it turns out that the man spoke English well enough. I switched to a slow gear as I approached and got through the small introductory questions before thinking: what am I doing? I got off, and pushed my bike along side his and we talked about War, vegetarianism, surfing, and future American politics as we climbed the mountain together. I didn't catch his name, but I will sooner remember his character than the names of those characterless. 

With the introduction of this stove and pot to my inventory, I'm a chef everyday! Noodles mostly so far, though I am building a menu on the back of a scratch piece of paper for meals to plan. Spaghetti would be difficult I think, not impossible. 

Then, rain came. I hate to think of my new hippie friend out there in this storm. He didn't seem to have much. But then again, hes survived a lot longer than me, and through nastier storms than this. 

Me? I am back on my noodle hype. Talk about a really necessity. Tonight I would have gone hungry were it not for the stove and some spare noodles and veggies I packed with me. Phew!

Another vanishing point. I now credit all my interest to these geometric vantages to Escher, who's book I flipped through time and time again as a boy. There were words and descriptions to his art that I today wish I had read in that book. But as a child (and as an adult too) his work forces your mind's eye to stop and understand what is being depicted. His works are not flashy nor colorful, rather they are resemble orchestrated puzzles and illusions once can only see from a certain angle. And that is what I love about vanishing points such as these. From a certain angle, and only that angle, does the entire frame of imagery fall succinctly into place and compliment contemplation as its reward. 

The afternoon was spend waiting out this rain. Should only last through the night, not that this is the best place to camp. I am at a rest area, though there is not much room to rest. I'll make due. If one person can, so can another. 

Love,

-A