Sweet & Sour
Tuesday 08 April 2019
Today was the usual mix of breathtakingly beautiful, heart-warming, dismal and depressing that is Japan.
Strolling under the cherry blossoms is an annual highlight for my friends and me. Come April and people break their winter silence with copious pictures of pink and white cherry blossom en masse and up close. Skimming through Facebook, it’s a blurr of pastel petals. It seems everyone is trying to capture this fleeting moment of happiness, this ephemeral escape from the mundane and relief that the bitter winter winds are finally abating. The riverbanks, factory entrances and school yards are all looking their best framed by soft pink and white clusters of cherry blossoms.
Eeeeee Aaaawww Eeeeee Aaaawww. An ambulance siren steals the moment and we’re back to reality. My kind-hearted, next-door neighbour whose odd behaviour and huge goitre often frightened my visitors, is now unconscious and being carted off to hospital on an ambulance stretcher. Will he return to the shack he called home for 70 odd years? Should I ask his family how he is faring or let them continue their silence in regard to being related to him? In this very, very old village, people try to keep their family secrets secret as a disabled relative could limit the marriage prospects of other family members. We all pretend not to know my next-door neighbour has any family and this means we refrain from asking if he’s OK … but I do feel for this gentle, old man who has been ‘hidden’ all his life.
My spirits pick up again when I go into a store and walk out with a new phone. The store is modern, clean and the customer service is wonderful. Like a fickle teenager, I’m in love with this country again for a brief moment.
Next, I head to the Police station to report losing my driver’s licence and start the process of applying for a replacement. This tired old building has not seen any renovations for at least 30 years and I fear their systems have not been modernised either. Everything about this place screams worn out.
Obaachan (grandma) is wearing out too. She may be incredible for an 86 year old as she still plays competitive volleyball but she worries about the future. Who will know if she has a fall? How will she ever sort through the 86 years of stuff she has accumulated? Where will she go if she cannot live alone? The highlight of her day is receiving news that the family will invest in a gravestone near Tokyo and engrave 4 names on it - including hers – in preparation for the inevitable.
On the way home from Obaachan’s, I stop for dinner at Saizeriya, a family restaurant. The food is deliciously familiar and so much cheaper than Australia but the girl at the neighbouring table is speaking very loudly and it’s irritating. As her acquaintance goes to the toilet, I enjoy a brief time of peace as the noisy girl goes quiet. Staring at her reflection in the window, I guess that she’s in her early twenties. She looks tired and the way she downs a lot of red wine explains why she is so loud. The young man returns and her megaphone voice continues. There’s talk of having an affair and she mentions her name - Ami. Suddenly I realise it’s Amichan – a childhood friend of my daughter. Irritation turns to sadness as I watch the little Amichan I knew as a child now struggling to balance her intoxicated legs on stiletto heels and go out into the cold night air in a short, tutu-like, mini skirt.