Lift Up Your Hearts!

Thomas Edison said that genius is 5% inspiration and 95% perspiration. Anders Ericsson, a psychology professor at Florida State University, would agree. His studies of what makes someone really good at something are discussed in the May 7, 2006 New York Times column, A Star Is Made, by Freakonomics authors Stephen J. Dubner and Steven D. Levitt. (The New York Times requires registration before you can read their content, but it's free and worth the effort.)

What Ericcsson concludes is that talent is overrated; what really makes the difference for success—in any field, from art to sport, from finances to computer programming—is hard work and deliberate practice. Here are some quotes to whet your appetite (and maybe make it worth your while to go to the effort of getting to the article):

Here is more information on the subject from the Freakonomics website.

Freakonomics: A Rogue Economist Explores the Hidden side of Everything, by Steven D. Levitt and Stephen J. Dubner (William Morrow, New York, 2005)

Economist Steven D. Levitt enjoys standing a problem on its head to see what might shake out of its pockets; Freakonomics is an exhibit of his garnered treasures. Levitt takes on anything that piques his interest: from how to detect teachers who cheat on their students' exams to how legalized abortion affected crime rates, from what really broke up the Ku Klux Klan to the financial workings of inner city gangs, from why a swimming pool is more dangerous than a gun to parenting skills and naming trends.

Freakonomics is both fascinating and frustrating. Levitt asks very important questions, offers evidence that "conventional wisdom" is often anything but wise, and perhaps does his greatest service in encouraging people to rethink their unquestioned assumptions.

However, when he deals with subjects in which I have more than the usual knowledge and experience, such as parenting and education, I can see holes big enough to send an elephant stampede through. For example, he considers various factors that might or might not affect how well a child does in school (as measured by standardized test scores), and concludes that a mother's employment outside of the home during his preschool years makes no difference at all. But without taking into consideration what the "at home" mother did during those years -- did she spend a lot of time with her child? did she take him with her, talk with him, teach him? did she plop him in front of Sesame Street while she talked on the phone? was he kept in a playpen while she watched soap operas? was he watched by a nanny while she played tennis? -- the statistics he used are pretty much meaningless. Similarly, in concluding that regularly taking your child to museums has equally little affect on his school performance, he neglects to consider the difference between a child who interacts with his parents as they traverse the science museum and one who runs from one exhibit to the next, pressing buttons willy-nilly but never staying long enough in one place to learn whatever the pressed button might have had to convey. Or between parents who prepare a child for a visit to an art museum and those who simply drag him from one picture to the next until they can no longer put up with his bored misbehavior.

Despite occasional problems with the conclusions, Freakonomics is a good exercise in applying the tools of economics to thinking differently about what "everybody knows." You can find out more at the Freakonomics website.

When I was in high school, a semester course in economics was required for graduation. I managed to convince the school to accept an advanced physics course instead, so I can't claim to know much economics. Yet being married to a guy who majored in that field in college helps, and in any case the following scenario not only makes no economic sense, it makes no sense at all.

Last time we took the Venture to our favorite mechanic, we asked about a slight shimmy, and were told that everything was okay, but if it got worse we should probably have a wheel alignment done. It has now reached the point where it is "worse" enough, so today we took it to a nearby tire store / garage and asked them to look at it. (Bllue Book doesn't do wheel alignments.)

When they called to tell us it needed two new tie rods, an alignment, and a new tire, I was floored and took the easy way out: I turned the phone over to Porter. He politely told them thank you but we couldn't have the work done today and would be in to retrieve the car. If the tire really needs replacing, we need to look into the warranty situation first, and any tie rod work we want to have done at Blue Book. Particularly since they had replaced a tie rod end last April, and had not that long ago given the car a clean bill of health. In any case, we think it calls for a second opinion.

But that's not my real quarrel with the local place; I'll reserve judgement until after we get that second opinion. What flabbergasted me was the reaction of the mechanic, who kept telling Porter, "But you don't have to pay anything now"! It reminded me of the time Janet was at an outpatient clinic, trying to decide whether or not to get an x-ray there. She tried many times to find out how much the procedure would cost, and I don't think she ever received an answer. She couldn't find anyone who would admit to knowing what the charge would be. Yet even that was less absurd than those who puzzled, "Why do you want to know? You don't have to pay anything now; we'll bill you and you can pay it later."

Pardon me, but—huh? The cost of something doesn't matter if you don't have to fork over the cash this instant? If economics classes are still required in high school, they're not doing much good. And—double huh? The only reason one might do or not do something, be it medical or automotive, is its dollar cost? Even economists, who are accustomed to measuring the strangest things in terms of their dollar value, would choke on that attitude. At least my economist did.

I think I've discovered another reason why our culture is in financial trouble.

Any extravagance around the time of a birthday counts as part of the celebration, and thus comes without guilt. Thus when Porter wanted to attend the Mad Cow Theatre Company's It Was a Very Good Year, part of the Orlando Cabaret Festival, and even suggested we get the special dinner package, who was I to complain?

Enter into a Time Machine as you walk thru the doors of Club Moo, Mad Cow Theatre's intimate nightclub room. Grab a chair at your table as you sip a cool drink and enjoy...a celebration of one year in the life of America: the news, the lifestyles, the gossip, and most important—the music.

The package including the show, dinner, parking, and a glass of wine to take into the theater. Porter had chosen the year 1925 (other options were 1935, 1945, and 1955), and as we relaxed at our excellently-situated table I thought (as any genealogist would) about relatives who were alive in 1925. I tried to imagine myself as them, until I realized how extremely unlikely it would have been for any of my grandparents to be sitting in a cabaret drinking a glass of wine. So I just enjoyed the show. I'm sure they would have known the music, anyway. The cast comprised four singers and a pianist, and the show was simply some of the songs popular in 1925, held together by a minimal story line. The music was well done, and we were relieved that the era was presented straight, with no looking-back-from-the-future, mocking humor. My knowledge of the popular songs of any era is abysmal, but found I knew about half of these.

• I'm Sitting on Top of the World (Joe Young & Ray Henderson / Sam M. Lewis)
• Five Foot Two, Eyes of Blue (Joe Young & Ray Henderson / Sam M. Lewis)
• Looking for a Boy (George & Ira Gershwin)
• Oh! Lady Be Good (George & Ira Gershwin)
• It Had to Be You (Gus Kahn & Isham Jones)
• Tea for Two (Irving Caesar / Vincent Youmans)
• Everybody Loves My Baby / Yes Sir! That's My Baby! (Jack Palmer/Spence Williams, Gus Kahn/Walter Donaldson)
• Always (Irving Berlin)
• Charleston (Cecil Mack & James P. Johnson
• Sweet Georgia Brown (Ben Bernie / Maceo Pinkard & Ken Casey)
• Clap Hands! Here Comes Charley! (Joseph Meyer / Billy Rose & Ballard MacDonald)
• Sweet and Low-down (George & Ira Gershwin)
• Shake That Thing (Papa Charlie Jackson)
• Keep Your Skirts Down, Mary ann (Robert King & Ray Henderson / Andrew B. Sterling)
• I Never Knew (Gus Kahn / Ted Fio Rito)
• Who (Hammerstein & Kern)
• Manhattan (Rodgers & Hart)
• Save Your Sorrow for Tomorrow (Al Sherman / B. G. De Sylva)

We had some time between the end of the show and our 5:30 dinner reservations, which we spent in the library. Porter found a book to check out, and I spent my time in the genealogy section, where I found Gary Boyd Roberts' The Royal Descents of 600 Immigrants. (Gary was the New England Historic Genealogical Society librarian who helped me get started on my research.) I didn't get very far in the book before we had to leave, but I did find that Robert Abell (a 9^th great grandfather on my mother's side) is the 11^th great grandson of Edward I, King of England (1239-1307). This is "Longshanks," who had William Wallace executed, and though Braveheart depicts him inaccurately and unfairly, he was nasty enough. You can't go very far in genealogy without running into both heros and villains, often in the same person, which is why I take as my genealogical motto Aslan's words in C. S. Lewis' Prince Caspian: You come of the Lord Adam and the Lady Eve, and that is both honor enough to erect the head of the poorest beggar, and shame enough to bow the shoulders of the greatest emperor in earth.

Dinner at the nearby Napasorn Thai restaurant was wonderful. Because it was part of the package, we had to choose form a smaller menu, but that was no hardship. The spring rolls and gyoza we had for appetizers were perfect, and our dinners of pad Thai and panang curry were nearly as good. Next time we'll save money by making our own package—but this was definitely worth the cost because otherwise we'd never have discovered Napasorn. It also really felt like a date, because Porter made all the arrangements, and that was heavenly.

Well, it turned out to be not so much of an adventure after all, which was a good thing. But you would have thought it was something major, the way I prepared for it.

The adventure began when I noticed that our lovely little Geo's air conditioning was a little peaked. I mean, it worked great when I didn't really need it, but summer has come to Central Florida and the A/C just wasn't keeping up the way it used to. This meant a trip to Blue Book was in order. Our favorite mechanic (and used car dealership) is over 12 miles away, but worth the trip. Usually we do what everyone else does: drive the car up and get a ride home. This time I decided to ride my bike home.

Our local bike trail gets me easily between home and Lake Mary Blvd.; the question was, how much sidewalk could I count on between there and Blue Book? (Technically, bicycles belong on the road, not the sidewalk. But if you've ever seen the roads around here you'll know why I say I prefer paying a fine to paying a hospital bill. Not that I've been fined yet, but it's a possiblity.) Yesterday I took a drive and learned the answer to my question: Trail and sidewalk are available for all but a very small portion, but that small gap might as well have been a chasm.

Central Florida is not ready for bicycle and pedestrian traffic. In places we're trying: we have a number of very nice trails along and connecting former rail beds, there are sidewalks in many places, and some new road construction includes a bike lane. The trouble is that key connections are missing. The above-mentioned chasm is also known as Interstate 4. Lake Mary Blvd. crosses I-4, but there is no provision for pedestrian traffic; the sidewalks just end. In theory I could have ridden across, as there is a wide shoulder in most places, but it's pretty scary, and you have to cross three entrance/exit ramps, including one with four lanes of heavy traffic—and of course no walk light.

Clearly, I needed a Plan B. I tried out several alternate routes, each of which started out promising but petered out into long stretches of no sidewalk and roads too busy for comfortable biking. This is not Japan, where drivers are accustomed to sharing the road with bicyclists—though at least we have no concrete irrigation ditches to worry about. Finally I decided to take a detour that added about three miles to the trip, but allowed me to cross I-4 on a pedestrian/bike bridge that is part of the trail.

Last night I put the bike rack on the back of the car, put the bike on the rack, and took a brief test drive to make sure I'd put it on securely. This morning I packed my provisions (making sure I had plenty of water), slathered on sunscreen (which I hate to do, but I wasn't sure how much of the trip would be without benefit of shade), and headed out.

Once at Blue Book, Jim helped me get the bike off the rack and the rack in the car; I handed him the keys, donned my helmet and biking gloves, and was off.

I don't regret all the preparations. Of course I spent more gas planning my route than I saved by biking, but that's a one-time expense. Having some emergency provisions (like water and money) and using sunscreen weren't bad ideas. You never know when something might happen to disrupt your plans. But really, the trip was wonderful! I had been thinking of it as a major journey, a big deal, because it was (for me) in uncharted territory and a long distance. The odometer on my bike is broken, but the trip was about 16 miles. That seemed long to me, but then I realized I was only traveling one way! Since our regular Saturday bike ride is eight miles out and back, 16 miles should not have been anything to think twice about.

There were two areas along the way where the sidewalk was closed due to construction, but both were easily circumvented. One thing I enjoyed seeing was a place where a section of the trail itself was closed because of nearby construction work, and they had paved a temporary detour for the pedestrians/bicyclists, just as they do on roads for cars.

Mentally, I had built two resting places into my ride: St. Peter's Church, where a friend works, and Panera Bread. But as I said, the ride was much easier than I had expected, and I didn't want to stop, so I came straight home. It took me exactly an hour and 45 minutes. Lately I have been setting aside about an hour and a half each day for exercising, and it would have taken me more than 15 minutes to drive home from Blue Book, so overall I saved time as well as gasoline! Well, maybe not—there's a certain amount of overhead involved with getting the bike and the carrier on and off the car—but at any rate it didn't really cost me the time out of my day that one would think, and it was terrific fun!

I hear it's officially TV-Turnoff Week. Those who know me know I'm more likely to respond negatively to social pressure like that. Still, I'm not about to turn on the television just to be different.

But if TV is a regular part of your life, do yourself a huge favor and turn it off. Start with a week, but don't stop there. What would you give for an extra four hours in your day? More than 20 more hours in your week? Even if you are one of the very rare folks who watches only half an hour a day, think about what you could do in that time. With just half an hour each day you could learn to play a musical instrument, learn a foreign language, read many books, keep in touch with far away friends and family, create your own weblog, spend time in serious, concentrated prayer, get some much-needed sleep, learn to juggle, create a garden, get in shape...and accomplish at least one if not many of those things you say you'd love to do, "but I don't have time." Go for it! You have nothing to lose but your chains.

Here are some more interesting links:

The TV-Turnoff Network

Excerpts from Marie Winn's The Plug-In Drug

Ruben Bolling's fabulous comic, Flowers for Trinitron.

The Longest Day. Our last day in Japan, the first day of our return home, the 37-hour day in which we landed at Newark before we took off from Narita. (It would have been a 38-hour day had not the switch from Standard to Daylight time occurred in our absence.)

Fuji-san came out to say sayonara, gracing us with one of the most beautiful views of our stay. Naito sensei and Yuko picked us up at 8 a.m., drove us to the bus station, and insisted on staying till the bus left at 8:40 so we would not have to say goodbye to Janet any sooner than absolutely necessary.

On the long ride to Narita Airport, which is on the far side of Tokyo, we enjoyed the scenery very much: the mountains, the towns, the houses with their large garden plots even close to the center of Tokyo, attempting to read the katakana signs, and the sight of many, beautiful, blooming sakura trees of varying shades from white to deep pink. A critical factor in our enjoyment was having decided to take the early bus instead of one that was scheduled to get us to the airport closer to our late afternoon departure time. Thus the fact that we became entangled in a major traffic problem caused no worry, even in my panic-prone heart. We did make an unexplained detour to drop off one couple in the middle of the city. (Correction: it was not unexplained, but of the driver's rapidly-spoken commentary I understood not a word.) Perhaps the delay had made them in danger of missing their flight, and they were let off in a place where they could catch a train to the airport. We'll never know.

Once at Narita, only about an hour late, we had no trouble disembarking at the correct terminal because all the recorded announcements on the bus are given in both Japanese and English. We had not been able to print our boarding passes in advance, because Janet has no printer, but because she does have Internet access I was able to determine last night where to go for check-in. I think it rather impressed Porter that I looked at the bewildering chaos and said, "go there," instead of just looking lost. :)

There was a long line at the Continental check-in, but we still had plenty of time. (Don Aslett is right: "Early" is your best friend.) At Narita checked bags are screened in your presence, sealed, and returned to you for check-in. As mine was x-rayed, it generated a small amount of excitement, which I can't report in detail without revealing someone's Christmas present, but that did not take long to resolve.

Check-in went smoothly as well, and we decided we had enough time to eat some lunch. Porter found a sushi restaurant in which the food was not only good, but also not that much more expensive that we were accustomed to, both of which were surprising for airport food. Moving through passport control and airport security went quickly, and we were soon at the gate. Porter wandered off in search for a snack, returning with the spicy Japanese rice crackers he likes so much, and I amused myself by translating katakana.

Once on the plane we were delighted to discover that we each had three seats to ourselves. In contrast to the very crowded flight over, the return flight was sparsely populated. We had chosen two aisle seats this time, and had resisted the check-in lady's attempts to seat us together, turned out to be a great strategy. The seats are contoured enough that sleeping, even lying down, was not comfortable, but it was much, much better than last time.

Again they fed us two full meals and a "snack" (cheeseburger and ice cream, not just a tiny bag of pretzels). Besides eating, I spent my time sleeping, translating the katakana on the video display of our flight path, reading Lee C. Camp's Mere Discipleship, and listening to our choir music for Holy Week. (This trip caused us to miss several key rehearsals, so we brought a CD and our sheet music with us.)

My comments about the benefits of being early found another, inverse, application. Next time we will endeavor to allow more than an hour and five minutes between flights when the first leg is international. We were late taking off from Narita, and although we made up the deficit in flight, there was a long delay between our landing at Newark and our actual arrival at the gate. We managed to exit the plane quickly, and even though the walk to passport control was long, and the lines moved slowly, that didn’t matter because we still reached baggage claim before our luggage did. But all four bags came through, close together and in good shape. Once we had them, going through Customs was a breeze. Life is easier when you have no interest in bringing in alcohol, tobacco, or expensive jewelry or electronics. :) Rechecking the bags was easy, also, and we began to think we might make our flight to Orlando after all.

Then we realized that going through Customs takes you out of the secure area of the airport, and we had to go through the regular Airport Security line! That was a long wait, and I was less patient than I usually am in such situations.... There should have been no reason for people with connecting flights to have to do that. Or perhaps they don't trust the security measures in other airports…perhaps with good reason, I don't know.

Not wanting to give up, even though the time for boarding our flight had theoretically passed, we raced to our gate, or rather to what we thought was our gate. There simply was no time to find and check a monitor, so we had to trust the gate number that was on our boarding passes. It was far, far away. Liberty International is a big airport, and though we were only going from one Continental gate to another Continental gate, the two were about as far apart as possible. As we neared the end of the run, I sprinted ahead of Porter, who was having trouble with his Achilles' tendon injury. As I arrived at the gate, I noticed that the flight displayed was the wrong one. I spoke with the attendant who said, tersely, "over there" and pointed. That was when I realized that people, at least in Japan, are more patient, and clearer in their explanations, when you don't speak the language. Porter had caught up with us by the time I understood that the gate we wanted was just down the hall. We flew there together, and lo and behold boarding was just starting! We gratefully took our places at the end of the line.

The flight to Orlando was more crowded, but that didn't matter in the least because it was only two hours long. They fed us dinner and once again had free headphones available. It was rather amusing that on every flight we were offered free headphones, and advised to take them with us because on every other flight they would cost $5.

Our luggage made it safely on flight but the very last: somewhere between Newark and Orlando one of the bags had its outside pocket ripped half off. Continental, which had treated us quite well up to this point, failed here. They refused to let us fill out a claim form, because they won't take responsibility for outside pockets. They did offer us a replacement suitcase, but the only one they had was smaller, and they wouldn't give it to us unless we gave them the damaged bag in return. Since this was the bag with most of our breakable items in it, which I had spent over an hour packing and repacking for greatest protection, I didn't find the offer acceptable. Had it just been clothes I might have been tempted, but I wanted to get everything home as it had been packed and have time to assess what other damage might have been done in the process of tearing the bag.

For the final leg of our journey Porter had arranged to rent a car; it was cheaper than a taxi and better than asking a friend to pick us up, especially since we weren't sure we'd make the flight from Newark. When we arrived home, all was well there, and we determined that the contents of our bags had escaped unscathed, though the episode does point out the importance of careful packing of anything that can be damaged. I don't remember exactly when we walked in the door, but I believe it was before 10 p.m.

What a wonderful trip! Japan is a delightful country; not perfect, and full of contradictions (another blog post, perhaps), but absolutely delightful and I'd love to return some time. I'm under no illusions that this trip makes me a world traveler, however. What made it so enjoyable was all the effort Janet put into sharing her world, her Japan, her life, church, school, friends, and pleasures. It's impossible to quantify the benefits, or to choose the best part of the trip, but high on my own list is having faces, views, sights, sounds, tastes, and scents to connect with the stories Janet tells of her experiences in Japan.

We relaxed a bit this morning, spending our time packing, reading, and practicing kanji, depending on who we were. :) Our lunch was a fitting ending to our visit: Naito sensei, Shimizu sensei, and Yuko had prepared a feast at Naito sensei's house. This also gave us a chance to meet Naito sensei's husband, daughter, and dog. (We have not seen many pets in Japan.) Janet enjoyed helping Naito sensei make sushi. Not to take away anything from the effort that went into the preparation, which is an art, but the Japanese have one great advantage over us when it comes to making sushi: one can buy beautiful pieces of fish, cut to appropriate sizes, at the grocery store! In addition to the fabulous sushi, we had delicious rolled-up sandwiches—one variety of which was strawberries and whipped cream!—salad, tea, and possibly some other delight I forgot to write down. For dessert we had lovely, individual confections that came from a bakery we had passed yesterday on our walk to the Takeda Shrine. We had looked in the bakery window briefly, but if we'd known what was awaiting us inside, we would have lingered.

As delicious as the meal was, the best part of the afternoon was the conversation. Out of courtesy to us, most of the conversation was in English, but some was also in Japanese as the four teachers discussed the new school year. (Did I mention that the Japanese school year begins in April?) They just received their new assignments and of course there was some excited buzz about that. Perhaps the conversation went a little more slowly because Janet was included, but I was thrilled to be able to understand just a little of the Japanese! Not enough by any means to follow the conversation, much less participate in anything beyond a simple greeting and "thank you very much"; but knowing the general subject and being able to recognize a few words and phrases, I was sometimes able to discern one word from another and have a vague idea of what they were talking about, which was really exciting. Okay, so it doesn't sound exciting, but for me there was a huge difference between the afternoon's conversation and my general experience of the Japanese language here, which is a totally incomprehensible wash of sound.

Here, also, we were given beautiful gifts: a Japanese box and bookmarks. The Japanese have certainly taken hospitality to great heights. Sometimes I think the custom of omiyage may be overdone, and could be accused of multiplying clutter and needless expense, but I can certainly learn something from their generosity as hosts. After we had left the Okajima store I on Tuesday, I had realized that we had perhaps not paid enough attention to getting souvenirs. (Shopping is an activity we all avoid whenever possible.) Not to worry! Everywhere we've been, our hosts have taken care of that omission, probably better than we could have ourselves.

I've been a bad tourist in another way on this trip: I brought no camera, since ours is heavy and a bit awkward. Instead I relied on Porter's new cell phone—the phone itself doesn't work in Japan, but the camera feature does—and Janet's new Japanese camera. This afternoon, not only did the teachers take many pictures, but so did Naito sensei's father-in-law, who is a photographer, so I hope to get a copy of some of them. Easy picture sharing is one of the great things about digital photography!

We were home in time to leave again. Janet's friend Aden, from China, took us to his apartment for dinner. He is a student here in Japan, and hopes to teach when he returns to China. On the way, we found out that in China people drive on the right hand side, while in Hong Kong they drive on the left, which makes for an interesting cross-over between the two.

The only thing wrong with our delicious, many-course dinner is that Aden, as cook, couldn’t join us until dessert. He explained that in China the cook does not eat with the guests, because of the nature of Chinese cooking. I can't give a good description of what we ate, but it included tea (of course), salad, vegetables, two dishes with rice (one of which was mapo doufu), with oranges (sliced and served with the rind as a cup) for dessert.

It was awesome to have the privilege of talking, as friends, with someone from Mainland China. It would not have been appropriate, in this situation, to discuss anything controversial or political, but conversation about ordinary life was sufficient to reveal vast differences in our understanding of certain situations and events. This highlights one of the greatest lessons I've learned on this trip: If we're serious about working for world peace, we must increase greatly opportunities for cultural exchange, in which real, ordinary individuals from one country get to know real, ordinary individuals from another. But that's a subject worthy of its own blog post.

"You can't out give the Japanese"—even when they're really Chinese. As were leaving, Aden gave us a large bag of the jasmine tea he had served us, tea which was grown in his home town!

There was no view of Fuji today, which goes along with the weather change from yesterday's cold to much warmer today. We walked to Ryuo eki, and on our way stopped at Big Boy for lunch. Yes, that's Big Boy, as in the U. S. chain, but with a definite Japanese flavor. We had to try "hamburg," which is popular in modern Japan, a large ground beef patty with onions and other flavorings, somewhat like an individual meatloaf but tasting like no other meatloaf in my experience. I've never been a fan of corn chowder, but the corn soup from the soup bar here was fantastic.

We took the train one stop to Kofu. Our objective was the HIPPO Family Club meeting, but we went early so we could enjoy some more time at Kofu Castle. We were able to see parts of the castle that had been closed on our previous visit, and the sakura trees were in still more glorious blossom. While we were there, Janet and one of the other HIPPO Club members recognized each other. (I'm always amazed at her memory for faces; she'd only met him once.)

The HIPPO Club meeting was just a short walk from the castle. We had attended a HIPPO meeting once when we were in Boston, though we didn't get further involved before moving away. :( This meeting was run along similar lines, but was more fun because of all the children. We began in a circle, and a microphone was passed around to anyone who wanted to use it, which, I believe, was everyone. Each person introduced himself, usually according to some set format involving name, family members, where they lived, and interests, in any of some 16 languages, from English to Hindi, although the most common was Spanish. Even the tiniest children were encouraged to participate in one way or another, but there was no pressure applied. Janet, Porter, and I could not follow the normal format, but we each managed something; I chose broken Japanese, and Porter, Dutch. We played games involving several different languages. Everyone was so friendly! One little girl, in particular, took me under her wing and explained as best she could what was going on, though I think she wondered at times why I was so slow and stupid. :) Later we all spoke one of the HIPPO stories along with the CD, and each person had another turn with the microphone to recite any part of any of the stories, in any language. Although it has been a long time since I've listened to the HIPPO CD's, I was pleased to be able to remember and speak a few phrases.

Throughout the meeting, the children were free to participate or play in the room, as they wished. Mostly they participated, with enthusiasm. HIPPO is not a "children's activity," but a family activity in which the adults are just as interested in learning as the children. As would be expected, people were at different levels, but adults and children alike received general acclaim for whatever they could do, and were not shy about trying and experimenting. I was particularly impressed by a couple of the children, including one boy who did a great job with the difficult English "r" sound. He wasn't "speaking English," just parroting the CD, but the ability to make that sound is a huge issue for the Japanese, even those who've had many years of English language instruction. How much of a language can one learn by memorizing and reciting stories and getting together with other enthusiasts once a week? I don't know. But I do know that these folks are training their ears to distinguish words and phrases, and their mouths to make the sounds, of the foreign languages. They may know only the phrases from the stories, but their English sounds like English, their Spanish like Spanish, their Korean like Korean. They are learning through experience that they can communicate in something other than their native tongue, and have a great enthusiasm for other languages. If they ever have the opportunity to study one of their languages more closely, whether through classes or foreign travel, they will have a firm foundation on which to build.

After the meeting, we walked along a sakura-line street to Kofu's Takeda Shrine. It's hard to get a feel for just what their religion means to most Japanese. We saw many people praying at the shrine, and the offering box was full. But I get the impression that most people in Japan are no more Shinto or Buddhist than most Americans are Christian. That is, they go through the motions, take their children to the shrine for traditional ceremonies, pray and make offerings when they have particular requests, and make pilgrimages on special days. Does it have meaning beyond custom and tradition? I don't know.

Takeda does have one thing you won't find at most shrines: a "Hello Kitty" statue. Did you know that the Hello Kitty phenomenon originated in Kofu? I didn't even know it was Japanese. Hello Kitty is huge here, and not just among children.

Knowing that dinner wouldn't be until after church, we indulged in some soft cream. There was not much choice of flavors, so I had mixed grape and vanilla this time. The grape part was very good, more "really grape" than I'm used to in grape-flavored items. I really don't understand why you can't get grape jelly here if you can get grape ice cream. We also ate a sample of shingen mochi, a Yamanashi specialty. Although Janet loves mochi, especially the kind with red bean paste inside, this particular variety she called "dragon mucus" when she first encountered it. Of course she didn't tell us that until after we'd eaten…. It wasn't bad, and Janet, who loved it, was amazed at how much her tastes have changed.

Next we went back to Kofu eki, took the train one stop, and caught the ride to church. It was pleasant to be more awake this time, though I still had a little trouble during the sermon, despite the fact that I found it quite interesting and really wanted to stay awake. (I've heard some sermons for which sleeping would have been more edifying than listening, but this wasn't one of them.) We had Communion, and that inspired some thought. Here we were, in a church halfway around the world, a church to which, had it been back home, I would certainly have avoided. No liturgy, no hymns. Contemporary Christian "praise songs" accompanied by electronically amplified instruments. Long sermons. Children sent elsewhere during most of the service. A general approach I would in my ignorance have called Southern Baptist, though that's not the pastor's background so that's probably the wrong label. In any case, not what I would chose for our church home. Except. Except that in a country where less than one percent of the population claims to be Christian, one can't afford to be choosy, and that can be a very good thing. As I partook of the Sacrament, I realized that we are forever united to this eclectic group on the other side of the world, no matter how far individuals may disperse. This little group of believers and seekers, the most diverse collection of origins, languages, cultures, ideas, experiences, and opinions with which I have been privileged to worship, is united by what C. S. Lewis called Mere Christianity, and all other considerations—as important as they may be under other circumstances—must be laid aside. That they have welcomed, supported, and encouraged Janet, and been so kind and friendly to us, also endears them to me, of course! Even people whose personalities rubbed me the wrong way at first are becoming people I will miss when we leave.

(It was interesting to note that some, though not all, of the songs we sang tonight were ones we had been exposed to—against our will—in churches back home. I have to admit it was good to be able to sing along with everyone. I also look forward, next time I'm forced to sing Here I Am to Worship, Better is One Day, or Open the Eyes of My Heart in our own church, to being able to make the comment that they sound a lot better in Japanese….)

After church many of us went out to dinner at Bamyan, the first restaurant we've been to here that I've found less than inspiring (mediocre Chinese food). But the company and conversations made it worthwhile. Once again, Bonnie and Atley spoiled the old folks and drove us all the way home.

Mt. Fuji was beautiful again this morning, definitely worth getting up for. I took time today to begin packing, since Saturday and Sunday will be busy. I also made another blog post, and Janet worked on her kanji Narnia book, while Porter read something he found in the bookshelf, left by Janet's predecessor. In the afternoon, we rode to the D2 store (sort of a cross between a K-Mart and a Home Depot) where we bought a few items to take home.

The day was so lovely we took another bike ride to Dragon Park, and today we were rewarded with the only local view of Mt. Fuji better than that from Janet's balcony. We arrived at the same time as a group of young children whose leader was not at all shy about approaching foreigners. He and Janet communicated reasonably well, in a combination of English and Japanese, but I believe he was disappointed that we couldn't say much about the part of American culture he knew: television shows and the NBA. We saw the same kids later, as we walked by the playground, and they inveigled Janet into joining them on the slide.

Tonight was Janet's birthday dinner at Maman Pumpkin's Indian restaurant. (A little early, but she wanted to celebrate while we were with her.) It was a lovely group of friends, some of whom we had not yet met, though I'm not sure Janet thinks it was worth all the effort it took to arrange, and she was embarrassed about the cost of the prix fixe dinner. Her neighbor, Mark, drove us to the restaurant, and I noted that he had at least one advantage over many JETs who acquire cars in Japan: being from England, driving on the left side of the road required no adjustment for him.

Fellow teachers Naito sensei and Yuko were also there, as were Courtnay from church (also JET), former neighbor (and former JET) Dennis and his fiancée, Eun, plus friends Rudy and Adam whose connection I don't remember, as they sat on the far end of the table from me. I spent much of my time talking with Dennis, Eun, and Courtnay. If Dennis and Eun have children, they will start life with a huge advantage: they will be brought up trilingual. Dennis's native tongue is English, Eun's is Korean, and they communicate in Japanese, at which both are fluent.

Looking at Courtnay, you would never guess that this mild-mannered young woman has traveled all over Asia, thinks nothing of heading off to Vietnam with no idea where she will stay, and barely winced when at one hotel she was awakened by a rat running across her bed.

Janet had hoped for a larger crowd, so we would have a chance to meet more of her friends, but because the Japanese schools are on break, many people are taking advantage of the opportunity to travel. But since we really only had a chance to interact with those closest to us, I think it was a nice-sized group and a wonderful dinner. Thanks, Janet, for making it happen!

This was a much more relaxed day. Both Janet and I have personalities that require time for rejuvenation at home, and she is discovering how stressful it is to be the one responsible for planning an event. She's been a fabulous tour guide; everything has gone so well and been so much fun! But I know that when anything looks smooth and easy, that only means a tremendous amount of planning and effort have gone into it. Emotionally, Porter could keep up the schedule nearly indefinitely, but his foot was giving him trouble on the walk into Kofu (Achilles' tendon problem acquired/exacerbated by working on our roof), so the rest was good for all of us.

I was up early again, however, inspired by the hope of seeing Fuji-san again. Indeed, she was there, though her top was shrouded, and the clouds had covered her completely by the time Porter arose, so it was worth the effort. I took advantage of the extra time to make my first blog post from Japan. It still amazes me to be on the other side of the world and yet read e-mail, talk on the telephone, and post to the Internet just as easily as at home.

We enjoyed a relaxing morning at home, and I took the opportunity to do some laundry. Janet's washing machine is on the balcony. It provides only cold-water washes, and is small, but otherwise is like most washing machines—except, of course, that the instructions are in Japanese. As I mentioned before, clothes dryers are not commonly used in Japan, but Janet's compact, hanging clothespin device, combined with the kerosene heater (since it was cloudy outside) did the job admirably. Much to my surprise, the dried clothes were soft and smooth. I am accustomed to that with air-dried clothes only when there is a breeze to keep them moving as they dry; in my experience, clothes dried in still air end up stiff and uncomfortable. Perhaps the laundry detergent had some fabric softener in it; the label was incomprehensible.

This seemed like a good day to do some grocery shopping. We visited the little store where Janet buys her fresh produce and bought some wonderful fruit. I've never seen less than perfect fruit in Japan; perhaps that's why it's so expensive. Another reason might be the packaging—our strawberries and kiwi were packed with individual protection, like eggs in a carton. Terribly wasteful—but oh, they were beautiful strawberries, and the flavor was prime, as well. Janet had mentioned that she doesn't buy cantaloupe in Japan, because it is so expensive. The price that inhibited her was $10 per melon. Wanting us to experience the shock, she led us to the melons at a store in Kofu, and was blown away herself by the one with the $60 price tag! Granted, it was the most beautiful cantaloupe I've ever seen, perfectly formed, not one blemish, obviously hand-picked, with the neatly-cut stem still attached, and nestled with a lovely presentation in a gift box…but still!

There's a small sushi restaurant in Janet's neighborhood that she'd never been to, and this seemed like a good occasion for trying it out. It was a great experience! The menu pushed Janet's Japanese to the limit, as it was all in kanji, but she was able to communicate with the chef who made a suggestion. Not only was the sushi delicious, but the chef kept giving us gifts! (We were the only customers.) The soup was good, and our assortment of sushi even better. I particularly enjoyed one type of roll (I don't know what it was), and the chef subsequently prepared a whole plate of that roll as his gift to us. And as we were leaving, he gave each of us a set of beautiful chopsticks. Going by the menu alone, the restaurant is a bit pricy, but the experience was priceless. As always, it pleased me so much to hear Janet conversing in Japanese. She is far from fluent, but her communications skills are high. She appears to have a gift for languages, but the term "gift" is deceptive. This is the person who hated Spanish so much in high school she quit after the bare minimum two courses. Not that she wasn't successful in the classes, but the way it was taught turned her off completely. One friend of ours lamented over her, "There's another parochial American, with no interest in other languages and cultures." I'm happy to say that prophesy was dead wrong! Many things have contributed to Janet's apparently unusual facility with language, and perhaps I can guess four: her musical training, which sharpened her ear and developed her auditory memory; her American Sign Language classes, where she learned much about the art of communication; her unusual educational background, which gave her confidence in her ability to learn as well as an unusual set of learning tools; and most of all her enthusiasm and desire to learn.

After lunch we rode our bikes to Janet's Ogino grocery store, a very nice trip if you don't have too much to carry home and it's not raining nor freezing. We also stopped at her landlord's house so that she could pay her rent. Have I mentioned that Japan is largely a cash-based society? Of all the places we visited, only one took credit cards. This was not a problem for us, as Janet had plenty of yen for us to spend, but it reminded me that our almost exclusive use of plastic back home is a relatively new phenomenon. I resisted for a long time, but was gradually enticed by the convenience of pay-at-the-pump gas stations, then the relief of being able to buy groceries without keeping a mental tally of the cost in order to avoid exceeding my cash supply, and finally by Internet purchasing. I'm convinced we spend more money when we don't see the outlay dollar by dollar, but for now the accounting convenience alone is worth the price. We never pay any interest charges, or it would be a different matter altogether.

But enough about money! We next indulged in some entirely free entertainment, riding our bicycles along the river, enjoying the blossoming sakura (ornamental cherry) trees, and revisiting the park we'd discovered earlier in the week. (Did you know that Washington DC's famous cherry trees were a gift from Japan?)

A friend of Niko's came to pick us up for dinner, as Niko was busy with the meal. And what a spread it was! The central masterpiece was chirashizushi, or "scattered sushi," rice with raw fish and other ingredients layered on top, but there were many other delicious dishes as well. Our "simple" dinner invitation had turned into a small dinner party, and we enjoyed the company of Niko's uncle, one of her former students, and the student's mother. Janet discovered that the student's brother will be in her class this year! That's more surprising than you might think, since high school admission is not automatic, and Shirane is not the closest school.

"You can't out give the Japanese." I came up with that idea on my own, but I might have been quoting a common expression. Not only was the dinner magnificent, but we were showered with gifts, including bottles of a local alcoholic beverage made from potatoes, special sakura desserts, paper sakura flowers, and "happy (happi) coats" with the city firefighter's crest on them for each of us. Next time I go to Japan, I'll need to figure out a way to bring more gifts…but there's clearly no point in trying to compete.

I was the only one up for a long time this morning, and was rewarded by a fabulous view of Mt. Fuji as I drank my tea in the warm room. The weather has turned colder, thus clearer. There is just something awesome about seeing that magnificent mountain towering about all the other mountains that are so impressive when Fuji is hidden!

I don't know how long the others might have slept had not Heather and Jonathan called. The walls are sound-porous, and while one might be able to go back to sleep after being awakened by a ringing telephone, it's not so easy to pass up the chance to speak with loved ones! Jonathan was under the weather, but very articulate in his conversation. When he announced that he wanted to "go visit Aunt Janet tonight," Heather explained that he couldn't because Aunt Janet is still in Japan, and besides, he was sick. Immediately he proclaimed, "I'm feeling better!" Only much later did it occur to me why he thought he might be able to visit. After all, Aunt Janet has been in Japan for months. Even when Jonathan and Heather visited us in September, he made a point of telling us, on the way from the airport, that he was visiting Grandma and Dad-o but couldn’t see Aunt Janet because she was in "'Pan." But this time he spoke with all of us on the phone and knew we were together; perhaps he assumed that Aunt Janet had returned home. Not that he could have come to Florida for the evening, anyway….

Around 10 o'clock this morning, Janet's friend Niko picked us up and drove us to Fujiyoshida and the Kawaguchiko Music Forest. She had taken Janet there in August and though it isn't "Japanese," it was charming and delightful. The collection of music boxes and mechanical instruments and toys made me think of our friend Richard, especially when I saw the labels "Wurlitzer" and "Welte." As Janet had, I put a nickel in the Wurlitzer harp. What amazed me most was the excellent condition of all the instruments, despite the fact that they are operated frequently. In addition to the demonstrations, there was a concert that featured a human string quartet in addition to the mechanical music. As fascinating as the mechanisms are, nothing beats live music.

For lunch Niko took us to a restaurant that is famous for its dolls, as part of the Doll Festival. When I heard about it, I immediately thought of the Margaret Woodbury Strong doll collection in Rochester's Strong Museum, but this is something quite different. The Doll Festival dolls are specifically Emperor, Empress, and various attendants, though they come in as many varieties as Christmas Nativity scenes. The Doll Festival, held on March 3, is also called Hinamatsuri or Girls' Day.

Next we visited Niko's new house. She and Janet hadn't seen much of each other recently because Niko had to move. It seems the land under her old home was needed for a supermarket. And we think "eminent doman" has gotten out of control in the United States—just look where we are headed. This brings up an oddity in Japanese life: houses are not an investment. Unlike homes in the U.S., and more like cars, they actually depreciate! A thirty year old house is basically considered worthless. When you buy a house, you're actually buying the land, and the first thing you do is demolish the old house and build a new one. At least that's the story as we were able to apprehend it. No wonder the Japanese don't put much money into the structure of their homes, such as insulation, thicker walls, and central heating! It's not clear to me why a house has lost all value after 30 years, especially since the otherwise hefty taxes have thus been reduced to almost nothing. Just another reminder that things we take for granted are not necessarily universal.

Anyway, Niko's house certainly belied the fact that she had just moved in. It was beautiful! We still have boxes sitting around from our move in 2003. Not that boxes aren't the best place for some of the items, but…. Niko fed us tea and sweets, including a very interesting sugared sweet potato. She also arranged for us to return to her house later tomorrow for dinner, since we had another commitment for tonight.

After Niko returned us to Janet's place, Atley and Bonnie took us to their favorite Thai restaurant. If we can enjoy Thai food in the U.S., why not in Japan? The very best part of the good meal, however, was the conversation. Atley and Bonnie are very interesting people; Atley and Porter especially hit it off well, despite some significant political differences. That's why we had arranged this dinner in the first place: we had started some good conversations in the car on the way back from Bible study, and hadn't wanted to stop.

Back at home, we had a chance to meet Janet's neighbor, Mark, and some of his friends. The community of English teachers is small, and though Janet met Mark as a neighbor and fellow-JET, and she met Atley and Bonnie through church, it should not have surprised me as much as it did that Mark and Atley and Bonnie are also know each other well. I'm learning more about community on this trip than I had expected.

Today was a walking day, which we began by heading in the direction of Kofu. Our first stop was the Yamanashi Prefectural Museum of Art. This gem is one reason we chose to narrow the focus of our visit to Japan to "Janet's World." I doubt it would be included in any package tour of Japan, but it is a lovely collection of artwork, ancient and modern, Japanese and Western, including a significant number of paintings by Millet. Most of the descriptions were in Japanese, but that didn't prevent our greatly enjoying the pictures. A museum docent tried hard to explain the pictures to Janet, who was clearly the only one of us with whom she had a chance of success. Janet's ability to communicate in Japanese is amazing, and even though it does not extend to the more technical terms related to art, she still managed to convey some of the meaning to us.

Remembering our pleasant experience of yesterday, we purchased more "soft cream" to enjoy while wandering the museum grounds. It was nowhere near the quality of the KEEP ice cream, but nonetheless my blueberry cone was delicious. Our admission ticket was also good for admission to the nearby Prefectural Museum of Literature, which we enjoyed but passed through much more quickly than we had the art museum.

Walking onwards towards Kofu, we next stopped at the Crystal Museum. This is a small but lovely display of natural and carved crystals that reminded me of our trip to Brazil. Indeed, many of the stones at the museum are of Brazilian origin. Although the carved works were beautiful in their own way, I found I much more enjoyed looking at the natural pieces.

As we continued our walk into the center of Kofu, we began to look forward to lunch. Janet had great plans to take us to the Organic Café (completely different from the one in Kiyosato). Alas, when we arrived, tired and hungry, we discovered that it is closed on Tuesdays! We proceeded on to Janet's favorite yakitori place, though without a lot of hope since she didn't think it would be open till dinnertime, which turned out to be the case. No matter. We were in downtown Kofu; there should be plenty of opportunities to eat. The following scenario unfolded like a scene from a movie:

Three hungry and footsore tourists are seeking a place to eat in the big city. They spot a sandwich board in front of a building, advertising a restaurant on the third floor, and agree that it sounds attractive. Climbing the stairs, they meet their first obstacle: the stairway ends in a locked door at the second floor.

(Janet) It's not uncommon in Japan for places to be accessible only by elevator.

They enter the elevator and Janet presses the button for the third floor.

(Janet) Sometimes the best places are tucked away.

(Porter) Sometimes.

The elevator door opens to reveal…trash. Not just any trash, not just bags of trash, but a huge collection of random debris, boards, papers, and piles of food, including a prominent, large, whole onion. Trash that has been in place for some time, piled against the door of an elevator clearly not expected to be in use. Trash that begins to fall towards the elevator car and its shocked occupants….

(Linda) And maybe not.

(Porter) Going down!

The door succeeds in closing in advance of the impending trashslide, and the elevator soon deposits our heroes, still hungry but laughing hysterically, back onto the street.

Eventually we found a very nice Italian restaurant were Janet and I enjoyed some pizza that she said was genuine Italian-style, with fresh mozzarella, tomatoes, and basil, and Porter had a seafood dish.

Refreshed and rejuvenated, we continued out trek to Kofu Castle. This 16th century structure has been partially restored and should not be missed by visitors to the area. Not only is it interesting, historically, but the grounds are covered with cherry trees, which were beginning to blossom for our visit. The restoration process is ongoing, and they are working on the trebuchet....

By dinnertime the yakitori restaurant was open, and we could see why Janet likes it. Small, intimate, and filled with Japanese diners, it was clearly a popular spot, and we ate our fill of various forms of meat, of various flavors, grilled and served on skewers.

The time had finally come to do the tourist thing: shopping. Not a favorite thing to do for any of us, but we ventured into Okajima, a large department store near Kofu eki. There we found a few interesting items to bring back as omiyage for our return to the United States. Janet made a purchase as well: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe in Japanese. Although she is comfortable with the katakana and hiragana alphabets, learning kanji is daunting. (The Japanese language has four written forms, used simultaneously: kanji, the ideographs taken from Chinese; hiragana, a syllabic alphabet used for native Japanese words; katakana, a syllabic alphabet used for words of foreign origin; and romaji, Japanese syllables transcribed into the Latin alphabet.) Although Janet claims the book is 'way over her head, that she bought it does not surprise me, since she has always believed in what she calls "learning to swim by drowning."

It was raining when we came out of the store, so we dashed from shelter to shelter as we made our way to the train. The walk into Kofu had been a lot of fun, but in the dark and the rain, as tired as we were, riding the train back to Ryuo was the only reasonable choice. Even though Ryuo is only one stop away, most of the rain had stopped by the time we made the walk from Ryuo eki to Janet's apartment. Nonetheless, hot tea and cocoa by the kerosene heater were most welcome! Janet, with more energy or discipline than the rest of us, when out again to pay her phone bill and buy milk, then stayed up till 2:30 a.m practicing kanji.

A stay at a Japanese-style hotel includes breakfast, and we had arranged for ours to be at 8:00. This was truly a Japanese experience, as the table was not one with a pit underneath, so finding a comfortable position for sitting was an issue. The food, however, was delicious, and quite varied, including rice, miso soup, and a variety of vegetables, including more pickled plum.

While waiting for Kasia to come get us, we conversed with the young man at the front desk, who I believe was the son of the owner. That's how we made the discovery that one of his friends is also a JET teacher, and knows Janet! When Kasia we drove to a place in the mountains where we hoped to hike and see some waterfalls. There was a guard/caretaker there who met us and apparently raised some objections, though I don't know what they were. He and Kasia conversed in Japanese, and he led us to a small shrine, instructing us in a pattern of clapping and bowing. Porter, Janet, and I did not want to participate, but if Kasia objected she didn't complain, and she was the only one of us he could see, so we got away with merely standing respectfully. After that we were cleared to go, and he led us to a footbridge swaying high over the river.

I am not comfortable with heights, as those who saw me working on our roof will readily attest, but I had no problems with the swinging, bouncing bridge. For one thing, there were hand rails, which made all the difference in the world, and for another—well, the motion was very familiar to me, being almost exactly the same as that I'd experienced many times on Tom Sawyer's Island at Disney's Magic Kingdom. Turns out the Disney experience isn't completely unrelated to the real world, after all. :)

We hadn't gone far before coming to a smaller, fixed bridge with a gate that barred our way. The warning sign was all kanji, and Janet's and Kasia's best efforts at deciphering it were that the trail was closed until April.

At first we backed down, and went off on a different trail, but that led away from the river and was clearly not what we wanted. Kasia pointed out that the caretaker had actually given us his permission (after apparently appeasing his conscience at the shrine), and it was, after all, very nearly April. So we cheerfully untied the gate and went on.

The climb was steep, but not difficult because there were metal stair-and-handrail structures to aid traversal of the toughest parts. For the most part they seemed sturdy enough even to me, although at one point the trail detoured because one of the bridges had fallen into the ravine instead of providing an easy way across it…. After enjoying the river, the woods, and the hike for a while, we began to think about lunch, and retraced our steps, very glad to have braved the warning sign. The weather was perfect for our adventure, the first warm spring day of the season, according to Kasia.

While climbing downhill, I landed wrong on a place where the metal stair was buckled instead of straight, and twisted my ankle. Janet, who was behind me, must have begun praying immediately, because although the pain was sharp my ankle felt as good as new after no more than a half dozen steps. That was a relief, to be sure!

For lunch Kasia took us to the Organic Café, one of her favorite restaurants. Once again the meal (fixed, though it changes daily) contained small servings of many different foods, including the only brown Japanese rice we saw during the entire trip. There was only one item I was not able to eat, and that's because it looked, felt, and even tasted so much like a large glob of pork fat. I knew that couldn't possible be, since this was a vegetarian restaurant, but still my stomach rebelled. Subsequently we learned that it was some form of marinated potato! Such is the power of mental images, even inaccurate ones.

For dessert we made a trip to one of the most famous spots in Kiyosato, the Kiyosato Educational Experiment Project (KEEP). In the early 1900's, an American named Paul Rusch brought Christianity and dairy farming to the area, as part of his commitment to "bring food, health, faith, and hope for youth to a desperately poor region of rural Japan," particularly after World War II. The area is now famous for its dairy products, and our experience at KEEP was a good example of why.

One popular dessert in Japan is called "soft cream," which is very much like our soft-serve ice cream. When we inquired at the KEEP store about what flavors were available, we were told there was only one: "milk." I have no idea what "milk" might be as a flavor, unless it was the pure flavor of good milk itself. I am not much of a vanilla ice cream fan, and though this was white, I'm pretty sure the flavoring wasn't vanilla. In any case, it was some of the most delicious ice cream I've ever eaten, and a return to KEEP is high on my list of priorities if we ever make it back to Japan!

Kasia took us back to her apartment where we relaxed for a while, and were privileged to hear her play the o-koto, a traditional Japanese harp-like instrumentshe is studying. Because Kasia had an appointment in Kofu, she drove us to the Kofu eki. There we met Janet's friends Bonnie, Atley, Courtnay, and a few others. After a snack and some good conversation at Tully's coffee shop, we drove to the Browns' house for Bible study. It was good to be more awake this time! But I was still not at my best. That these folks are much younger than me is made clear by the hour at which they meet. After 8 p.m., I'm doing well to be coherent, let alone have any intelligent contribution to make to a discussion. What's more, I rarely do well with fixed-question Bible studies (or any studies) led from a study guide. Nonetheless, it was great to be part of the warm fellowship of those people. And to sit at the warm kotatsu table, which felt wonderful on my ankle, which had not liked the long car ride and had rebelled by stiffening up. Atley, God bless him, decided to pamper the old folks and take us all the way back to Janet's apartment instead of just to the train station, so it wasn't nearly as late as it might have been when we returned home.

We slept well last night and felt better this morning, which is a good thing because we had another busy day ahead of us. After making a leisurely start to the morning, we took a long bicycle trip (fortunately, these are getting easier all the time). The destination was the Kose Sports Park to watch a kyudo (Japanese archery) competition. When we walked through the main building, we had our shoes off (no slippers provided, we just walked in our socks), but the competition itself was outdoors, so we had them on most of the time. The temperature was surprisingly warm, given how cold it was yesterday.

Kyudo is ballet with potentially deadly consequences. Form and procedure are as important as accuracy, and it's beautiful to watch. The audience was silent except for the cheers that went up when a target it hit, and applause for each archer who hit the target on every one of his four attempts. After watching the competition for quite a while, we went back into the main building and met with some of Janet's students, who were taking part in the competition. Janet is learning kyudo with them, but is chafing under the restrictions that she must wait three months before shooting an arrow, no matter how much she learns, how hard she works, nor how often she practices.

On our way home we stopped for the lunch buffet at Maman Pumpkin's. Now I can say that the very best French fries I have ever eaten were at an Indian restaurant in Japan! The food was recognizably Indian, but with a definite Japanese influence. For example, the breaded, deep-fried potato patties served with tonkatsu sauce. Tonkatsu is specifically a similarly-prepared pork cutlet, but the name also appears to be applied more generally to all sorts of breaded, deep-fried food. In any case, the potato patties were delicious.

After a brief stop back at Janet's place, we once again made the walk to Ryuo eki. This time the train ride was a long one, to the Kiyosato area (northwestern part of the Yamanashi Prefecture, in the Yatsugatake Mountains). This delightful countryside is where Janet's friend and fellow Eastman grad, Kasia, teaches. It was a friend of Kasia's, however, who picked us up at the train station, because Kasia herself was busy preparing for a concert—the impetus for this trip.

The concert was an intimate one, held at a sake brewery. The sake from Kiyosato is famous because of the excellent quality of the water from the mountains. We were settled down in a small room and offered various drinks; Porter tried the sake, and I can attest to the wonderful taste of the mountain water. The concert itself was great:

• Sonata for cello and piano (Debussy)
• FantasieSuite op. 75 (Schumann)
• (wonderful encore from a Bach Unaccompanied Cello Suite)
• Intermission, after which Kasia and the pianist were joined by friends playing guitar, saxophone, and electric bass
• Song of the Birds (Pablo Casals)
• A-TIN (Lee Eigyoku, who doubled as the guitar player)
• Michelangero 70 (Astor Piazzolla)
• Libertango (Astor Piazzolla)
• (Encore of Libertango and something else I can't remember)

After the concert we moved upstairs to a traditional Japanese dinner. (Fortunately, we sat Western-style at the table.) There were many, many courses of mostly unidentifiable food. I tried everything, but didn't feel bad about not finishing everything, as there was so much food that would have been impossible. For example, I ate only 50% of my baby squid, tiny little things with a decent flavor though a rather unpleasant crunch to the head, I thought. There was tempura, but made with vegetable I'd never tasted before, "special spring vegetables" a local, seasonal delicacy. The man across the table from me asked if I didn't find them bitter; they were, but that didn't stop them from being good. There were all sorts of different pickled vegetables and fruits, and many other dishes I can't remember. There was so much to eat I didn't even finish the very delicious noodles. It was a pleasant experience to eat just what I felt like eating and to stop when I was full. Somehow with American meals I feel obliged to eat what is set before me, either in order not to insult the hostess, or because (at a restaurant) we're paying for it all. Not that we weren't paying for it in Japan, but it was a package deal (concert, dinner, hotel), it was paid in yen (the bills look less like "money" to me than dollars), and we weren't keeping as close an eye on the expenses on vacation as at home. I could probably lose a lot of weight in Japan before adjusting!

We spend the night in Kiyosato, not only because the evening ended late, but in order to experience a Japanese-style hotel. This was located just down the street, and we were escorted there by the bass player, who incidentally built his own instrument, and is excited about getting together with Janet to play Irish music.

It appeared that we were the only guests in the hotel. We never saw anyone else, and there was only one bath prepared instead of one for each sex. This is as close as we got to an onsen on our visit. It wasn't as nice, and the view wasn't as good, but at least we had part of the shower-outside-the-tub, soak-afterwards-all-together experience. A real onsen wouldn't have been much fun for Porter, as there the men and women are separated and he would have been alone.

We were provided slippers when we entered the hotel. (Once again, we left our shoes at the door.) There were also separate bathroom slippers in the communal bathroom…I mean toilet—it was completely separate from the bath. The bath was on the first floor, but the toilet on the second, across from our room. You wear your own slippers into the facility, but switch to the specialty slippers before entering the toilet area. In our own room we left our slippers in the entryway, as even slippers are not allowed on the tatami mats.

The centerpiece of the room was a low table set with tea and snacks. Later, that was moved to the side and our futons and warm, fluffy quilts set out. There were a television set and a telephone in the room, although we used neither. Yukatas were provided for our convenience (although they were all too small to be quite convenient for me), along with toothbrushes and shaving supplies. Once again the source of heat was a kerosene heater. As usual, we switched it off at night, but the futon quilts easily took up the slack. By this time we had become pros at sleeping on the floor, and so had a good night's rest. My only complaint was that some of the previous occupants had obviously been smokers, as the tatami retained the smell of cigarette smoke.