The Quiet Ripple Defines The Pond

To express objections or criticisms in bitter, harsh, or abusive language.

Posted on September 8, 2013 by spikekalashnikov

I have always been very good at getting up in time. I have never owned an alarm clock. I just say to myself, “Tomorrow you get up at 4:oo.” and I wake up at 3:55.

On Saturday I was programmed to go a hunting the Rail. The Okinawa Rail is a heap rare bird as it only lives in the far northern forest of this one island, lost in the East China sea.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Okinawa_Rail

There are only some hundreds left and as they skulk in deep bush, seeing one is not given to all.

As luck would have it, I meet a man who lives in Rail country and he kindly offers to take me Rail spotting. I leap at the chance and we arrange to meet in Yanburu at 6:00am on Saturday. This means leaving my house at 4:00. I love this stuff – an adventure. I settle to sleep and dream of early morning stumbling around dripping bush in misty Okinawan mountains with happy Okinawan Rail guru.

At 3:30 I wake up and I wake up again at 6:00. Humiliation. I overslept. This was a bitter blow to my self-esteem. Not only had I betrayed my friend who had so willingly set up the trip, but also I had missed my kill. I did not pin my buck. I am old and useless to the pack.

This actually made me quite miserable for some time as I take it for granted that age will not wither me quite yet. There are increasingly convincing arguments to the contrary.

I pull myself from the slough of despond and determine that if I am not to see the dawn Rail maybe I can catch the dusk Rail.

I drive North. I pass the Delectable Mountains

I cross the Valley of the Shadow of Pineapples

A Redshank by the Wicket Gate

By dusk I have reached The Enchanted Ground where the Rail doth live. Will my pilgrimage end in Doubting Castle or the Celestial City? I drive around and walk up and down but it all seems futile. There are hundreds of thousands of hectares of forest, what chance have I, a toothless wolf?

I am driving very slowly along of forest road when a Rail bursts out of the undergrowth and scampers across the road.

Charity

Wow! All too fast and unphotographable so I decide to park and watch. Maybe it will come back. It is very quiet, very sort of jungly, hot and humid with butterflies. I watch and wait or vice versa. I stare at the road with great concentration when distracted by a butterfly I look to the side. I see this.

The Celestial City. Click on the photo

Hmmm, what can I say? What is pleasure? Different for everybody I suppose but for me this is it, in a very pure form.

I stay for 30 minutes and many Rails put on a show to demonstrate that despondency should be resisted.

Hobgoblin nor foul fiend
Can daunt his spirit,
He knows he at the end
Shall life inherit.
Then fancies fly away,
He’ll fear not what men say,
He’ll labor night and day
To be a pilgrim.

The Land of Beulah

House Beautiful

It was a wonderful experience. What is pleasure?

I turn South and West.

I see a Bull-Headed Shrike.
Exceptionally rare. Click to get bigger version

Untitled

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged Bunyan, Celestial City, Okinawa Rail | 2 Comments

Eyeless in Ishikawa

Posted on September 1, 2013 by spikekalashnikov

I bought some new prescription sunglasses, which arrived last Friday. I had 3 pairs of sunglasses 3 months ago but I broke or lost all of them in quick succession. I had glibly said to the spectacle shop guy, optometrist?, to use the same prescription as my current glasses, which I had bought at the same shop a year or so ago. After the initial rush of, “Hooray I have new glasses,” I gradually had to admit that I could not actually see very much. This was brought into very clear focus when I went birdwatching today.

I peered and squinted with both normal and dark glasses. What’s more both pairs of binoculars, admittedly cheap and old, went on sympathy strike with my glasses and refused to focus. I had to watch birds by sense of smell.

Black Winged Stilt – look at those legs

More legs

I had had an uneasy sense that something was happening to my eyesight over the last few months. Essentially it is better than it has ever been. I do not need glasses except for long distance stuff. The ones I have are too er strong. Is this the only occasion whereby old age brings physical improvement?

Hot Cattle Egrets

Marsh Sandpiper

Little Ringed Plover worries

Little Egret – notice yellow foot, unfortunately pretty much masked by slime in this photo. If you click on these photos you get a much bigger version.

Black Winged Stilt flees or flies – you choose.

Anyway I go to my specs shop, it is 4:30 on Sunday afternoon.

I wonder what they sell here?

They are delighted to see me and rub me all over with scented oils. They are terribly distressed to hear that I cannot see and immediately test my peepers. Sure enough my eyesight has changed dramatically, from -2.50 gigapeepers to -1.25 gigapeepers. I had better get some new glasses. I choose frames and then wander off to buy some binoculars. 40 minutes later, my glasses are ready. They say they will replace the lenses in my shades for free. Oh, the ease of living in Japan. Thanks everybody.

Thanks

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged birdwatching, eyes, Japan, Sunday | 1 Comment

Rowan Tree

Posted on August 29, 2013 by spikekalashnikov

Today I had the privilege of representing the university at the Shinto ceremony to prepare for the construction of our new Child Development Centre. Before the diggers rumble in, the spirits who inhabit the place have to be warned and apologized to for the disturbance. There is an elaborate ceremony in 32 degree heat during which there is a series of incantations from the priest, miming of slashing, digging and hammering by the major players, a blessing of the four corners of the site, offerings of branches the significance of which I have forgotten, then finally sake drinking. It takes about an hour. It is really hot!

The stage is set

He is howling

I have to play a significant role as host. First I have to mime slashing down undergrowth with 3 swipes of the sickle, emanating a convincing mixture of grunt and screetch at each gesture. There is much bowing before and after. I worry about getting it wrong.

Sorry grass spirits

Big builder boss bashes

The architect practices vampire extermination

Salt and vinegar?

I then have to offer the branch of er, um, I forget with complex bowing and clapping.

Our team claps

Why man, that’s my hobby

Anyway as I am sitting there I mull over the fact that Shinto is not that different to west highland belief. For example the holy Rowan tree must not be cut down lest disaster falls on those implicated. Also there was a strong tradition of not insulting the Broonie, a kind of familiar spirit, for he would certainly have his revenge. Indeed various lochs and hills also had strong spiritual connections. My Father blocked the construction of a house in the village for many years as it meant the felling of a Rowan.

Oh there arose my father’s pray’r
In holy ev’ning’s calm
How sweet was them my mother’s voice,
In the martyrs’ psalm
Now a’are gane!
We meet nae mair aneath the rowan tree
But hallow’d thoughts around thee twine
O’hame and infancy
Oh rowan tree

After his death the house was built and lo it is the very house in which I stayed during Bobby’s wedding. I lie not in stating there was a moment of incertitude as to whether it was a good thing to sleep a house built over the site of Rowan abuse.

The desecrated tree stood just near the gate.

As you know from previous blogs, my journey home was blighted by the loss of my suitcase and the mysterious uncorking of a bottle of whisky whose contents were distributed around the interior. As I bowed before the Shinto altar I realized that the Broonie had punished me justifiably for sleeping on ground tainted by unhappy spirits.

He totally understood the Rowan tree dilemna

He totally understood the Rowan tree dilemma

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged hot, pagan, Rowan tree, shinto | 1 Comment

Cobblers

Posted on August 25, 2013 by spikekalashnikov

My brother Ian, doyen of all things cooking outside, gave me a Cobb. Check: https://quietripple.wordpress.com/2012/10/31/cobb/

I have essentially done all my cooking on it since. I was much impressed by watching Algerian ladies in the early 70s, cooking family meals on the balconies of lavish Art Nouveau apartments in Oran. They had just moved in from the country with their sheep, which were tethered in the marble-clad lobbies, and they cooked on tiny terracotta charcoal devices – no gas, no electricity, what are you going to do?

The Cobb is similar to their devices in that it uses very little fuel for maximum effect.

Ian kindly gave me a new Cobb fetish item while we were in Scotland – a griddle. This means I can now have food with lines on it.

new paradigm

After my sea adventures I attempt a new Cobb cooking technique – the slow cook casserole.

Squid for the salad, beni imo, pork for slow cook

Carrots and stock

I light the fire and drift off to play with my boat and watch the sunset.

A sunset that I miss rankles

Ragout or civet?

I then grill squid for the salad.

Where is the sick squid you owe me?

What a machine the Cobb is.

Posted in Uncategorized | 1 Comment

Sunday, Sunday

Posted on August 25, 2013 by spikekalashnikov

You really have to love weekends in late August in Okinawa; especially if you have a boat.

Up early and off to Zampa.

Virginia Wolf

I fish, I snorkel, I watch birds, I be in boat.

Ba-da ba-da-da-da
Ba-da ba-da-da-da
Ba-daba-da-da-da

Sunday, sunnday (ba-da ba-da-da-da) So good to me (ba-daba-da-da-da)

Sunday, sunday (ba-da ba-da-da-da)
So good to me (ba-daba-da-da-da)

I catch lots of little fish

Westering home

Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Get a Little Action in

Posted on August 25, 2013 by spikekalashnikov

Saturday night I hear the beat of the drum. Venturing out I see a big Eisa dance group doing their thing just up the road.

My sister looks cute in her braces and boots
A handful of grease in her hair

Have a look at the video. This is 30 metres from my front door.

http://youtu.be/dkmtBSuG_4k

It is the greatest fun. When they finish the performance I join in on peace and love dance, which Chinen san taught me a few weeks ago. We drink beer and they start throwing people up in the air.

Don’t give us none of your aggravation
We had it with your discipline

Amidst the fun, I am grabbed and they hurl my walrus-like body high in the air. I was frankly amazed as I am no lightweight. Thanks people I had a great time.

It’s seven o’clock and I want to rock
Want to get a belly full of beer

Then I go fishing.

I have had my Chinese motor for 6 weeks and it still works!

Get about as oiled as a diesel train
Gonna set this dance alight
‘Cause Saturday night’s the night I like
Saturday night’s alright, alright, alright

And so to bed.

Posted in Uncategorized | 2 Comments

Let the Hero, Born of Woman, Crush the Serpent with his Heel.

Posted on August 23, 2013 by spikekalashnikov

So little baby Jesus when not crushing serpents has sent my flute back to me after ten days in the wilderness. Thanks all for your prayers.

Glory, glory, hallelujah! Glory, glory, hallelujah! Glory, glory, hallelujah! His day is marching on.

It arrived this morning in my office whilst I was elsewhere. Apparently, but this is hearsay, it had been Glasgow, Amsterdam, Paris, Entebbe, Mogadishu, Baghdad, Milan, Tokyo, Naha. There are various logics to these itineraries. I had bought the suitcase from a marine just days before my trip. Said marine had written his name on the case with a marker. Once lost, the case, which is military green, was identified as belonging to a member of the US forces and it followed the most recent postings of the marine from whom I had it bought.

Anyway when unzipped in my office a miasma of Springbank floated out and self-distributed around my workspace. One bottle had uncorked itself and deposited 70cl of the finest malt whisky into the contents of the case.

And they hae taen his very heart’s blood,
And drank it round and round;
And still the more and more they drank,
Their joy did more abound.

Japan Airlines had unpacked the case and then repacked all the whisky soaked shirts, kilts, 2 metres of Campbell plaid, jeans, jumpers, socks, Inverary tea towels, sporrans and the sort of stuff you find in a suitcase, into individual plastic bags. The surviving bottles of Springbank had lost their boxes but gained layers of carefully placed bubble wrap. The flute, Mo rùn geal dìleas, plays yet better having been around the world marinating in fine malt whisky.

Thanks to she who engineered the rescue

What a relief.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged Japan Airlines, Jesus, Spring bank | Leave a comment

Callin’ out Around the World, Are You Ready for a Brand New Beat?

Posted on August 22, 2013 by spikekalashnikov

So, the cliché of the white man tossing and turning on perspiration soaked sheets whilst the local drums pound, more or less characterizes my last few attempts at sleep. The trip to Scotland seems to have permanently altered my sleep patterns. Normally you sleep at night and stay awake during the day. I stay awake at night and stumble around in a stupor all day. It is also Obon http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bon_Festival which means there are ancestors climbing out of the sea and whizzing through my bedroom. Obon on Okinawa is celebrated by Eisa dancing and the groups practice for days before and during the festival meaning that the night throbs with drumming. Wherever you go you find Eisa groups dancing and singing. These are not professionals, just Okinawans having fun. Today there was a bunch of outside the shop where you can buy Springbank.

Get Down

Check out the video:

http://youtu.be/1uLQC-KEx6Q

Come they told me, pa rum pum pum pum

It is 5:00 in the afternoon, the heat is 32 degrees and summer’s here and the time is right for dancing in the streets.

Philadelphia P.A., Baltimore and D.C now,
Can’t forget the motor city,

Martha and the Vandellas

It is fun.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eisa_(dance)

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged Eisa, Martha and the Vandellas, Obon, sweat | Leave a comment

Pop Goes the Weasel

Posted on August 18, 2013 by spikekalashnikov

So having whined about growing uniformity in the previous post, I will now write about how that is pretty much rubbish.

Here are brief profiles of two shops that I frequent that are distinct to this part of the world.

The place where I can buy Springbank sells all kinds of booze, nibbles, mixers and occupies the same space as a wonderful sushi, sashimi guy and a butcher who only sells beef but in cuts that are unrecognizable.

Alice’s restaurant

Fresh, authentic, the fish comes from a few hundred metres away. Yes, you can get it in SF or London but it is not the same. The guy makes each nigiri by hand in front of you.

By the way, the beef butcher can be seen chopping up beef into unrecognizable shapes in the rear of the photo.

There is an amazing selection of drink, beers from Belgium, wines from all over the world, I even found angostura bitters with which to make pink gin. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pink_Gin

A long way from home.

Awamori comes in cardboard boxes. They contain a strange volume. I think it is 1.8 litres

Wine is a mocker, strong drink is raging and whomsoever partaketh thereof is not wise

Anyway I drove past this place for 2 years moaning about how difficult is was to find wine and drink other than Awamori on Okinawa. Never assume you know what is going on in a foreign country before you can speak the language well and in the case of Japan, be able to read the language.

However my all time favorite shop lies on my drive home from the university. It is here that I generally provision myself.

Outside

The other side of the road

You can get all the usual stuff, you know, washing up liquid, Spam, potatoes, firelighters, charcoal, beni imo, lettuce, horsemeat, soy sauce, squid, beer, pigs feet, cabbage, pork, chicken, paper plates, and on and on and on. They have just about everything you could think of. What I really like is they get lots of fresh fish and in particular octopus, which the old ladies pull from the rocks across the road. Buying an octopus for your tea on the way home does not happen much in Kintyre. The shopkeepers are of course the nicest of people and so are the people of Kintyre, well-known for being, canty, couthy and kindly.

Here be monsters

Half a pound of tu’penny rice

I like both of these places very much.

Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Globalization

Posted on August 18, 2013 by spikekalashnikov

So, I have gone on quite a lot in this blog on the changing nature of living abroad. Essentially you are everywhere wherever you are these days.

In the previous post I talked about the authenticity of the Springbank distillery and believe me it is the real thing – seagulls screaming horribly, horribly, drizzle falling, sun bursting through from time to time, smell of peat and lots of shovelling.

I wanted to give very authentic gifts to some people in Okinawa who have been nice to me. What could be better than a bottle of Springbank – so rare, so exclusive? So I went to Eaglesomes, the shop associated with the distillery in Campbeltown and bought 5 bottles.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=maVynhugvPs In fact the the words are wrong. I do not think she is gathering cockles but carragheen - seaweed.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=maVynhugvPs
In fact the words are wrong. I do not think she is gathering cockles but carragheen – seaweed.

These I put in my suitcase without any thought as to how many bottles I am allowed to import into Japan. Everywhere seems to be one country to me. This will probably come back to bite me because my case is lost. I arrived in Okinawa last Wednesday, today is Sunday and the airlines have no idea as to the whereabouts of my bag. They think it might be in Italy. It has my flute in it. I do not like to think about it.

Anyway cut to the chase, I go to the local sushi, butcher and booze all-in-one shop just down the road and there you can buy Springbank. Oh no! so much for exclusive, authentic gifts from Scotland. It is also much cheaper than 100 yards from where it is distilled.

26 quid! I paid 37 in Campbeltown.

I feel sad about this. The excitement of travel is not what it was.

http://goo.gl/maps/ECERJ

This is where the shop is, just a normal corner shop thing on rundown street in the sticks Okinawa.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged globalization, Springbank carragheen | 2 Comments

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The Quiet Ripple Defines The Pond

To express objections or criticisms in bitter, harsh, or abusive language.

Eyeless in Ishikawa

Rowan Tree

Cobblers

Sunday, Sunday

Get a Little Action in

Let the Hero, Born of Woman, Crush the Serpent with his Heel.

Callin’ out Around the World, Are You Ready for a Brand New Beat?

Pop Goes the Weasel

Globalization

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