The Quiet Ripple Defines The Pond

In my dotage I often find strange prompts  remind me of my childhood. Vidi Proust Madeleine. The most recent  was a watering can. I had the choice of buying a much cheaper plastic version but I simply could not resist the galvanized

Flood the trenches

steel can because a documentary of my boyhood  played before my eyes. We had two big steel watering cans that were essential accomplices in so many adventures. The 8th Army is in real trouble until miraculously a tsunami washes away the Afrika Korps from the mud patch behind the house.

Tomatoes doing very well

Last week was the Festival for the Old Folks in Japan. We all got a day off. Today I was asked to represent the University at thean event to honor the old folks of Tancha, the village in which the University is situated. I assumed this would be rather a dull occasion  but as usual assume makes an ASS out of U and ME. I am guest of honor, seated by the Mayor who is all smiles as is everyone. Kids get up and dance, the ladies of the village get up and dance

Strictly

Graceful

The old people in Okinawa are older than old people in other places and it would appear the urge to party out is the key to their longevity. The protocol in Japan is that you never fill your own glass and my resolution not  to drink is torpedoed by not wishing to appear rude.

It is very hot and 1:00 on Sunday

We get well and truly stuck in. I make a very emotional speech about old people reaching out to join hands across the ocean . Everyone cheers and reaches for the bottle. A clown appears and  does a great job of taking the mickey out of the Police Chief.

Evening all

More drink!

What a good bunch the Okinawans are!  I have to get a Daiko to drive me home.

So some people like to eat chocolate and chocolates. I no longer have this urge but since my arrival on Okinawa another substance now plays the same role for me as chocolate plays for others. SPAM. I wrote about the legitimization of SPAM in  a previous post

https://quietripple.wordpress.com/2011/07/12/splosh/

In those days I was eating SPAM normally er  with other stuff like eggs and vegetables;  you know the SPAM was an ingredient. I have since gone beyond. Now I eat SPAM like a block of chocolate. Whenever I feel peckish or need a little treat I reach for a can of SPAM. The block slides out of the can with a lubricated plop and stands on the board with  authority.

Raspberry Parfait

I contemplate.

Dreamy Fudge

I then cut it into chunks. SPAM is great stuff to cut by the way. It resists the knife a little and does not shatter.

Caramel Caress, Orange Sensation, Bourneville, Almond Crunch, Lemon Cheesecake, Hazelnut Praline Crisp, Vanilla Butter Caramel.

I either lay a chunk on the tongue and luxuriate in its dissolution, or cram my mouth with several and use my tongue as a pestle, grinding SPAM against the back of my teeth and my upper palate. Whatever the method, the taste, the texture and the fact it is meat make me feel good.

These guys get it.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b5ISChHNjAE

In California, some of the Gas Stations posted the intriguing sign “Full Service,”  a proposition that seemed more suited to a massage parlour than a garage. What it means is that someone else pumps the gas for you and for this you pay a bit more. Full service harks back to a golden era of courtesy and service – as long as you had the money.

Mantan regularu kudesai

On Okinawa nearly all the gas stations are Full Service, which is great because trying to work out how to use a self service pump with instructions in Kanji is a humbling experience. You drive into the forecourt and the uniformed attendants immediately cry welcomes and guide you to the best spot.

Workin' in the fillin' station - too many tasks. Wipe the windows - check the tires - check the oil - dollar Gas!

It’s all smiles and wiping the windscreen  and if you want they will wash and vacuum the car, take out the trash, check all the fluid levels. When it is all over the attendants bow, shout ancient thank you formulae and wave bye bye. Better than a massage parlour.

Watashi wa gasorinsutando ga sukidesu

So tonight is Tsukimi or moon viewing night. I think this coincides with the concept of Harvest Moon in the western way of looking at things.

There is certainly a beautiful moon tonight.

But there's a full moon risin' Let's go dancin' in the light We know where the music's playin' Let's go out and feel the night.

Five minutes ago. Because I'm still in love with you I want to see you dance again Because I'm still in love with you On this harvest moon.

I believe that the tradition is to go outside and look at the moon, eat special rice cakes – tsukimi dango,

Itadakimasu

which are on sale in the stores and drink awamori. After this you write tanka poetry.

However I think Neil Young did it best. Not sure if the song below is tanka poetry but it is very good. The backup singer on the left, next to Emmy Lou Harris, is Peggi Young, his wife, for whom he wrote the song.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=st7NKEUs_8E&feature=fvst

Well, I suppose so and indeed I have now been doing Yoga classes for a few weeks just down the road from my apartment.

Temple of the temple

It really is wonderful. We do 90 minutes of exercises resulting in the sensation that you have been pounded by a very gentle but insistent All Black pack. The room is very hot and sweat pours off and I make embarrassing puddles on the beautiful wood floor. We chant and sing incantations at the start of the course but the emphasis is  on the physical rather than the spiritual. Sumako guides us through series of movements some of which she labels “very dynamic.” I am pitifully stiff and creaky especially when it comes to trying to get my knees anywhere near the ground in the lotus position or trying to get my head anywhere my knees whilst sitting with the legs straight ahead.

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun; Coral is far more red than her lips' red;

There is no doubt that practice makes things better and little by little I improve. The essential is self discipline. Anyone who practices can obtain success in yoga but not one who is lazy.  Constant practice alone is the secret of success.

So today is class day but  er um unfortunately it clashes with Scotland/Romania in the World Cup. My body is a temple but the Boys in Blue need me. I self install in front of the screen.

Scotland are wonderful ticking all the boxes of our national strength and weakness. Paterson misses a conversion directly in front of the posts. In fact he does not even manage to get the ball into the air. Danielli messes up totally with 5 metres to go and a man outside him.That said, we are brave, proud and ugly and with 10 minutes to go Romania are winning.

Romania score!

But Scotland win! Hail Caledonia.

The match is played in Invercargill and the ground is charmingly tiny.  I expect a flock of sheep.

Fish and Chips in the glory days

There are few possessions that I own or have owned about which I give a toss.There is however a select band, a coterie, of stuff for which I feel real affection. One of those rare articles has just passed. My lovely bright red serving dish. I bought her on the market in Divonne les Bains in, I think, 1997. Since then she has been my companion in the kitchen, my girl in gastronomy, my friend in feeding, my oracle of the oven. She grew old and one meal too far, baked pig’s face, signaled her demise. Quelle tristesse. I will never find another.

Let her go, let her go, God bless her;
Wherever she may be
I may search the wide world over
And never find a better plate than she

Now cracks a noble heart. Good-night, sweet plate; And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.

Leg of Wild Boar

Quail and snail

Choucroute!

Aie! Paella!

Fish in Okinawa. Fresh!

I think a tiny crack arrived and the baked Pig’s Face expanded it. Sad yes, but how can plate die better than facing fearful odds. For the ashes of her Fathers and the Pig’s face of her Gods

Truffaut, Renoir, Chabrol, Blier, Lelouch, er Malle, um Klapisch and now Arin Pillot. A long time ago I made a publicity clip for CERN with a young French film student called Cedric Klapisch. He went on to be one of France most beloved movie directors. Check the film: http://cdsweb.cern.ch/record/1003588?ln=fr

Lately I made a movie of the same genre with another young French film student, Gabriel Arin Pillot. This time in Okinawa. It was an amazing experience. Everything was filmed with the video function on a  Canon photo camera using one lapel mike attached by  student sound person Emile Trimoreau. The movie was constructed in my front room on Mac laptops using Final Cut. Filming, editing,subtitling, rendering  took less than 4 days.

Modern times

A brioche baked by Gabriel

Emile left and Gabriel with a piece montee that they made

Anyway I think the film, in its genre, is very good but if he doesn’t make it as a film director Gabriel could always be a boulanger. Thanks to both Gabriel and Emile for the film

Watch here:

http://www.youtube.com/user/oistedu#p/a/u/0/dp3HDq6b8ag

It has been quite fun observing the hurricane excitement on the east coast of the US. I feel vaguely superior in the condescending European  “Oh yes, so I heard ” tradition. Ours are of course much better.

The last one completely devastated my poor little garden. The aubergine, peppers, beans, flowers, radish and Daikon were simply blasted away. Only the local speciality, Benni Imo, has flourished.

Anything green is Benni Imo er except the little onions I put in yesterday.

However there has been progress. After weeks of tramping orange, clayey earth into my car and apartment, I bought myself some Japanese gardening shoes. They are wonderful. They have semi fetishist clasps up the side, a separation between  the big toes and the others, giving me cloven feet.

Why does the Pope wear a dress?

I wonder why they are made like that? However I think they must be the germ of the great Japanese  cartoon monster tradition. Bored farmers looking at their feet and rushing off to become millionaire graphic artists.

In the shop and out of focus

Mine are very tight and I am lucky to find a pair that I can actually squeeze into. I like wearing them.

Shisa (シーサー) (Okinawan: siisaa) (shishi or shisaa) is a traditional Ryukyuan decoration, often in pairs, resembling a cross between a lion and a dog, from Okinawan mythology. People place pairs of shisa on their rooftops or flanking the gates to their houses. Shisa are wards, believed to protect from some evils. When in pairs, the left shisa traditionally has a closed mouth, the right one an open mouth.^[1] The open mouth wards off evil spirits, and the closed mouth to keeps good spirits in.

"To refrain from imitation is the best revenge" Marcus Aurelius Shisa

These lion dogs are everywhere. They are Okinawa for me. One tells evil spirits to take a hike, the other keeps good spirits cuddly in the kitchen.

Ben spent a good chunk of his time on Okinawa modeling a Shisa at Yamada san’s workshop. Ben is a talented and  extraordinarily meticulous clay man. This is his Shisa which is now waiting to be fired.

"I came, I saw, I conquered." Julius Shisa

In every butt and ben, nook and cranny, you find Shisa staring out at you.

"Which death is preferable to every other? "The unexpected". " Julius Shisa

"Hasten slowly." Augustus Shisa

"What an artist the world is losing in me" Nero Shisa

"Say not always what you know, but always know what you say." Claudius Shisa

"Shisa's wife must be beyond suspicion"