The Quiet Ripple Defines The Pond

I really love long flights. Yesterday I went Osaka – Amsterdam.  It took 12 hours, too short. I wish these flights would never end. You are in a completely strange environment in which no one knows who you are, what you do, what you think. With a bit of luck no one will speak to you throughout the whole trip other than flight personnel bringing you food and drink.  There is no time, as you drift between time zones. There is no place, as where you are now is very different compared to where you were 15 minutes ago. Where are you anyway?  You are somewhere in a silver capsule miles high over Siberia travelling at hundreds of miles an hour – how strange is that?

Wish I had thought about my IPhone when we were over Siberia. This is Holland

With any luck you have a window seat and it is a clear day. You can look down on the world and realize how much of it there is. Yesterday we flew over Northern Russia for 9 hours. It was crystal clear throughout and I saw almost no signs of humanity just snowy wastes  and forests that went on and on and on and on, then ice flows, then pack ice, then snowy wastes  and forests that went on and on and on and on.  I love it.  Does earth have anything to show more fair?

I was lucky enough to be flying Business, which means lying around in great comfort like an elephant seal, occasionally opening my mouth so extremely caring people can place delicacies and fine wines into it.

I read “Into the Silence” by David Wade, I doze, I look out of the window.

Spot the tulips. Pointilliste IPhone

Come fly with me, let’s fly let’s fly away
If you can use some exotic booze
There’s a bar in far bombay
Come fly with me, let’s fly let’s fly away

Come fly with me, let’s float down to peru
In lama land, there’s a one man band
And he’ll toot his flute for you
Come fly with me, let’s take off in the blue

Once I get you up there,
Where the air is rarefied
We’ll just glide
Starry eyed
Once I get you up there
I’ll be holding you so near
You may heat the angels cheer – just because we’re together

Weatherwise it’s such a lovely day
Just say the words, and we’ll beat the birds
Down to acapulco bay
It’s perfect, for a flying honeymoon – they say
Come fly with me, let’s fly let’s fly away

Once I get you up there,
Where the air is rarefied
We’ll just glide
Starry eyed
Once I get you up there
I’ll be holding you so near
You may hear all the angels cheer – just because we’re together

Weatherwise it’s such a kooky day
You just say the words, and I’ll beat the birds
Down to acapulco bay
It’s perfect, for a flying honeymoon – they say
Come fly with me
Let’s fly let’s fly
Pack up let’s fly away

Oh God said to Abraham, “Kill me a son”
Abe says, “Man, you must be puttin’ me on”
God say, “No.” Abe say, “What ?”
God say, “You can do what you want Abe, but
The next time you see me comin’ you better run”
Well Abe says, “Where do you want this killin’ made ?”
God says. “Out on Highway 58”.

Route 58 is a north/south axis of Okinawa. I spend a lot of time on it. It is slow going – many lights,  60 kph speed limit. It is bounded on both side by amazing structures, Pachinko palaces, boxing gyms, every kind of store.

Well if you ever plan to motor west
Just take my way that's the highway that's the best
Get there straight on Route 58

I will write several things about Route 58. This one beams in on American colonial relics.

Cruising up Route 58 with your arm around your best girl, who is cuddling up on the bench seat of your pink Cadillac convertible, you can’t help but notice archaeology.

Minoan

Etruscan

Pengtoushan culture

Lithic/Paleo-Indian

Chalcolithic

So this is what I ate over the last few days.

Lunch

Snack - octopus in kinda beignet

Sashimi Tokyo

Fish

Amazing Kimchi Ramen

Back in Okinawa
Soba!

Ueno Park also has art galleries. I went to the Museum of Western Art and did the whole thing in 25 minutes. I like to maximize pleasure by compacting looking at amazing stuff worth billions into a very short time. I glug rather than sip.

Gates of Hell by Rodin
He must have sold a fake to Stanford

A room of Monets - A bloat of hippos

I don't like sponge cake

I find it a great metric of how nice living now is that anybody can wander around rooms where priceless masterpieces are hanging on the walls.

A deceit of lapwings

It is an excellent collection covering essentially European art from 14^th to 20^th centuries. The place is almost empty – I suppose all the art lovers are outside drinking sake under the cherry trees.

There is also a special exhibition of some French guy called Hubert Robert of whom I have never heard. I do his bit in a record-breaking 6mins 27 secs.

Who he?

I am in Tokyo. It is cherry blossom time. The city celebrates. Because it is cherry blossom time not because I am here.

Hanami or watching flowers is a big deal and seems to be a wonderful reason to sit under flowering cherry trees and get shit faced.

It's spring fever. That is what the name of it is. And when you've got it, you want - oh, you don't quite know what it is you do want, but it just fairly makes your heart ache, you want it so!

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

I get up very early and head to Ueno park – renowned for its cherry blossom. It is fantastic. Even at 8:00 in the morning people are hunkering down under a long avenue of very blossomy trees to have a great day. They play mah jong. They play cards but most of all they drink and have a great time.

I do not want to concentrate too much on the drinking as in my tradition this leads to raucousness and fighting. Not so in Japan as everyone seems to be in extremely good humor.

The trees are very beautiful.

8:00 in the morning

I stroll through the blossom and come to a lake. I watch birds. It is a beautifully sunny if chilly day. There are a lot of people on the streets. The Tokyoans are polite, happy and – God bless them – quiet. No boom boxes, no one shouting at children, no adolescents squabbling.

Originally, the purpose of hanami excursions was to ponder the transient nature of life, as the cherry blossom blooming season is so short. This concept ties in with Buddhist thinking about the nature of life. However, today, these parties are more about having fun and eating food while enjoying the beauty of the cherry blossoms than pondering deep thoughts.

On my way out I stumble across this:

I love Tokyo

I have noticed an interesting dietary evolution over the last few months. I now eat tuna and rice at least 2 times maybe 3 times a week. It is delicious and cheap. Tuna is very cheap here – you can get a man/woman sized slab of same day swimming around for 350 yen.

This is deep red sort of tuna of which there are many er sorts

I usually slice off a few er slices for sashimi and soak them in soy sauce and wasabi.

Mushy peas

In the meantime I have put rice into the rice cooker. Rice is totally delicious here. It has a base cleanliness and whiteness that is a pleasure to eat other stuff from on top off. It also comes in cool bags.

Rice bags and a cardboard box of awamori

When the rice is ready I cook the tuna in beurre noire and lemon juice for about 3 minutes in a heavy iron dutch oven thing.

Eat me punk

I usually have a salad.

Vegetables ain't food. Vegetables is what food eats.

Same dish with umi budo. Is there any writing more pretentious than food writing?
http://www.couriermail.com.au/lifestyle/food-wine/green-caviar-or-umi-budo-is-making-waves-at-out-tables/story-e6frer56-1225909207776

One memory of my 50s and 60s childhood that I hold dear is the joy of bread and dripping. Dripping is the fat and meat juice that exudes from roasting meat, usually beef and pork. It gathers in the bottom of the roasting pan and given time cools into a white surface with an underlying stratum of meat jelly. It is delicious on toast, on bread or on the end of a finger. Dripping disappeared from my life for several decades. I think because butchers removed excess fat from roasts. Not so in Okinawa where pork in revered and a big slab of fat and skin on pork joints allows me to recreate the roast pork of my youth. Crackling and dripping.

Breakfast

I realized that I have not been writing much and wondered why. Pressure of work? Er, yes but what’s new? Getting used to Okinawa? Well, yes but still a trillion things to write about.

The real reason is the very comfortable sofa, combined with  the 42 inch screen, combined with download facility.

Sean Fitzpatrick - he used to wipe his sweaty head on referees' shirts.

I can now download all Super 14 rugby matches almost instantly. I can settle on my leather sofa and eat fatty pork whilst watching the Crusaders play the Cheetahs. The best of New Zealand rugby against the best of South African rugby in amazing clarity.  Few scrums, fewer line outs, dazzling speed and handling. Wow!

Anticipation

So this is why I have not blogged so much.  I am couch rugby whipped.

Villain of the piece