The Quiet Ripple Defines The Pond

I go down to the boat to put on new mooring lines. It is very hot and despite the fact that there are many little jobs I could do, once again the heat drives me away after 30 mins. Why is the engine not fixed? Well, several parts are needed and the ordering and delivery have been delayed by the Obon holiday and the war in Ukraine. Can’t be long now.

I drive off to Convention City the huge shopping centre just across the road from the marina.

https://www.google.com/maps/place/San-A+Ginowan+Convention+City/@26.2749467,127.7275952,17z/data=!3m2!4b1!5s0x34e56ca23189bbbf:0x6d366f48ee744400!4m5!3m4!1s0x34e56ca23198770f:0x1b99b132f2716eec!8m2!3d26.2749419!4d127.7297892

I should have walked! Above the two floors of stores, there are a further two floors of parking. I go in by a different entrance than usual and park the car in a different area than usual. However I have strong recollection that the car was close to the Tokyo Hands escalators.

https://www.google.com/maps/place/Tokyu+Hands/@26.2750827,127.6644604,13z/data=!4m9!1m2!2m1!1sTokyu+Hands!3m5!1s0x34e56ca232555555:0xb2d32eeb81b5c8cb!8m2!3d26.2750827!4d127.7303784!15sCgtUb2t5dSBIYW5kcyIDiAEBWg0iC3Rva3l1IGhhbmRzkgEWaG9tZV9pbXByb3ZlbWVudF9zdG9yZeABAA

I do my shopping and carrying a heavy bag I take the escalators up to where the car is waiting. I look for the car – she is not there. I walk up and down but I cannot find her. She should be easy to find all Japanese reverse into parking spaces so the nose of the car points out. Whereas I, an idle foreigner, just swing straight in and thus the rear of the car points out. I just have to look along the rows and spot the cars displaying there rears and one has to be mine. There are very few and mine is not amongst them.

The parking structure is very big and there are masses of cars. It is also very hot and sweat pours off me as I tramp up and down with my heavy bag. After 30 minutes of searching I start to worry. I have left the keys to the car and my apartment under the front seat and the unimaginable starts to form in my mind. Has someone stolen her? No, this is Okinawa no one steals anything.

I keep searching up and down the rows. I even search the other floors of the parking structure. Nothing. I am now distressed and panting like a hot dog. What if the thieves have gone to my apartment and stolen my flute! After an hour I go to the shopping center’s information desk and explain my difficulty. I am a sorry sight with red face and sweat dripping off me onto the beautiful clean floor. A security guard shows up and I show him a photo of the car from my phone. He is smiling and generally wonderful. He zooms off to look for the car. 5 minutes later he is back; he has found my car!

She is parked near the Tokyo Hands escalators. I must have walked past her at least 5 times but I did not see her. It is scary. Anyway, thanks security guy!

Happier stuff – Arisa takes me to a restaurant that principally serves pig ribs that have been cooked forever.

After 11 years in Okinawa, I stumble across little containers of precooked rice. These are great as I always cook far too much rice.

When I start up my computer it automatically connects to the Okinawan free wifi service, called Be Okinawa.

In the center of San Francisco I get about 40Mbps and pay far too much. Thank you Okinawa.

I don’t think I will come back to Okinawa in August. It is just too hot. I will stay in California or maybe Scotland. As the boat is still unwell, I have little to do and I begin to feel disenchanted with my beloved island. I also get food poisoning.

Not to worry, my general spleen is soon chased away by the wonderful Okinawans.

I donate my collection of Irish music CDs, which has been sitting in a cupboard in San Francisco for 10 years, to a young couple who are devotees of genre. https://www.facebook.com/irishbandnina/ They are so pleased and grateful.

They give me beautiful fruit from their garden.

I have to go up to Onna son to get some beautiful bowls from potter friend Saora san.

Tomomi san and Shinobu san join us for a fantastic meal. We go to the best restaurant in the world. I used to go here a lot and the two ladies who run the place became firm friends. I have not been back since I moved down to Ginowan – big mistake. They now have a website with English! http://www.kukurunoyado.com

Every thing we eat and drink is either grown or caught by Ishigaki san, Noda san or her husband whose name I have forgotten, so we will call him Mr Noda. They also do all the cooking.

We then get Goya Champuru and Okinawan vegetables.

What hospitality, what a welcome, what a meal, what a great evening!

So heartwarming, my delight in Okinawa is restored.

I am back in Okinawa. It is incredibly hot!

Ichiro san and Tomomi san invite me to dinner. They prepare an amazing meal that we eat in Ichiro sans studio surrounded by fabulous art. Editorial note–I have a new keyboard, the previous one died of mold when I was away. I cannot figure out how to find the apostrophe. Sorry.

We also had a delicious octopus salad and cake but forgot to take photos. We drank way too much!

Next morning, feeling like death, we set off at 6;00 to try to find the elusive Okinawa Rail.

Ichiro san is probably the best rail guide in the world.

What a first day back!

I believe I have written before about my good luck on stumbling across https://jetnsave.com

Eli has been arranging astonishingly cheap Business Class flights for me over the last few years. When I left gainful employ, I thought I would never fly Business again – too expensive. It has not worked out like that.

This time Eli has excelled himself. I get ANA First Class over to Tokyo and only Business Class returning to San Francisco in a couple of months. Fare is only a few hundred bucks more than a normal Economy flight on one of the quality airlines.

A  long First Class flight on ANA is about as close as my feeble brain can get to envisaging heaven.

I am the only passenger in First Class.

Two wonderful attendants, Toma san and Yuma san, have only me to look after and by golly they work hard. I have 2 rooms, one for eating and hanging out, the other is my bedroom!

Why me? What am I doing here?

I believe that since Naoko san and Miki san restored my soul, https://thequietripple.com/2020/06/01/saving-my-soul/ the Gods of Okinawa have been looking after me and have made my life a long, tranquil river of pleasure. 

I have one of the best meals ever, washed down by some of the world’s best wines. Hard to believe I am on a  plane.

I have to lie down!

I have slept off most of it when Toma san wakes me for breakfast. She offers me the best wines in the world but it is the morning. I turn them down. Have I finally grown up?

As I stumble towards Immigration in Tokyo, I feel a tap on my shoulder. It is Toma san. She has my computer. I had left it on the plane.

Thank you Gods of Okinawa.

Thank you ANA

Thank you Toma san and Yuma san

Thank you Eli

Now for lots of Okinawa Summer fun!

≈

A reminder that this is a diary. Nothing much happens in this post but it will be fun for me to read in 10 years time.

I take a Lyft down to the Consulate General of Japan to discuss art exhibitions with the charming Mariko san. As soon as the car drives off, I realize I have left my phone on the back seat. A stark reminder of how much I rely on my phone. I cannot get the office number I am supposed to show up at. I cannot contact Lyft. I cannot find bus routes to get home. I do not know where I am.

After meeting on 21st floor of huge building in the financial district, I ask the concierge guy if he could call me a cab. “Sure buddy.” he beams. “Haven’t done that for weeks!”

After much messing around on web sites, I manage to inform Lyft of my predicament and give James’ cell as a contact number. My luck is still strong, the driver contacts James and brings the phone over to the apartment that evening. Thank you Lyft!

The rest of this is just reminders of how nice it is living in San Francisco.

There is a Farmer’s Market on Sunday at the bottom of the Panhandle – 5 mins walk – fruit, vegetables, fish, hot food stalls, all kinds of stuff.

It is a surprisingly hot sunny day. The weather has been foggy and chilly whilst the rest of the State roasts. I like it. I wear woolen sweaters.

The house is still being renovated, which means we only pay 50% rent – hooray!

James has bought a dehydrator. Lots of fun as you can make your own jerky, dried fruit, dried vegetables, etc.

We go up to Clement, which is like a trip to Beijing.

San Francisco.

Son James and I head North in the Tacoma Truck. James discovers a new lager before we leave. This is a very good omen.

We are headed to Crater Lake in Oregon on Arisa’s advice. We camp the first night near Whiskeytown Lake. https://www.google.com/maps/place/Whiskeytown+Lake/@40.6275208,-122.6098933,9634m/data=!3m1!1e3!4m5!3m4!1s0x54d2f139a1707db3:0xc865d3a6a42c8249!8m2!3d40.6221003!4d-122.5541449

We find a perfect place near a tiny town called French Gulch.

We hammer north through huge areas of burnt forest. So sad, I suppose it will take 50 years to get back to its original state. Probably will not get the chance as huge forest fires seem to happen every year now. They didn’t seem to be a thing when we came to California 20 years ago.

Crater Lake is sublime.

We stay the night at the Crater Lake campsite. First time I have ever reserved a camping spot. Clearly the way of the future I am afraid.

We head South to a hot spring that James knows. By the way, it is very hot, nearly 100F every day. Mind you it seems to be the standard temperature most everywhere in the world.

We set up camp beside a hot spring just beside a lake.

The water is hot but bearable. In fact it is perfect. A pair of Barn Swallows have set up a nest inside the the Onsen shed. I watch them for hours. I have rarely been so clean.

Throughout the day, we soak and then swim in the lake. Paradise.

What an incredible place! Only one other person shows up, also in a Four Wheel Camper, and he keeps himself to himself up in the rocks.

We have to go home. We hammer South, James does all the driving.

After a final soak, we leave camp at 8:00 and head for Susanville. Hw 395 through Modoc County is a wonderful road, real cowboy stuff. High desert, hardly any other trucks.

We finally make it to Susanville and have the biggest breakfast ever at the Lumberjack Diner.

Once again, many thanks to the Taco Truck but above all, thanks to James for excellent company, local knowledge and all the driving.

What a fantastic trip! Oregon and Northern California are hard to beat.

I am very saddened by the assassination of Abe Shinzo san.

I never spoke to him but was in close proximity on several occasions.

He visited OIST in 2013.

I also sat behind him at two Irei no Hi ceremonies. https://thequietripple.com/2016/06/23/irei-no-hi/

He was a good man. He was a trusted and respected politician, such a rarity these days.

He was also a good friend to OIST.

The fact he was shot in Japan beggars belief. There is essentially no gun crime in Japan. The Japanese do not want to own guns. The strong code of mutual respect and politeness cannot admit guns.

My condolences to the Abe family and all the people of Japan. They have lost a great man in the most awful manner.

Bebo and I go for brunch in Cole valley. Waiting to see if we could get into Zazie https://www.zaziesf.com to get some of those good old Eggs Benedict, a guy says, “I really enjoyed your talk, fascinating.” I have become very well known in San Francisco since my USF talk. I have my pen ready but he curiously does not ask for an autograph.

Despite the adulation, we get fed up waiting for a table at Zazie and install ourselves at a street table at https://www.crepesoncole.com/menu/

This place used to be a comedy club called The Other. Apparently Robin Williams started here. We told a lot of jokes but no agents appeared.

Anyway, Bebo and I agree that Covid has diminished our get up and go er ness. We have been allowed to sit around doing nothing with no guilt for 2 years and the hue of resolution has been sicklied over, so to speak.

In an attempt to regain self respect I set off for the Elkhorn Slough to take photos of otters and birdies.

I intend to set up the camper in the same place that James and I spent last Thanksgiving. https://thequietripple.com/2021/11/29/beaver/

It is called Kirby Park

https://www.google.com/maps/place/Kirby+Park/@36.8370537,-121.7442754,16.15z/data=!4m13!1m7!3m6!1s0x808e05d522a8775f:0xe0a6b302581f0239!2sMoss+Landing,+CA+95039!3b1!8m2!3d36.8044003!4d-121.7868953!3m4!1s0x808e0415b2c5e8b9:0xa3b3985c56547266!8m2!3d36.8402755!4d-121.7436406

Not nice. There were about 10 trucks full of Mexican guys, dressed in gangster gear. They were making a lot of noise and drinking. One was repeatedly beating a dog with a stick. Once they felt I had been there long enough, a truck drove over and parked beside me. Nothing was said, the blacked out windows remained up. After 5 minutes the truck eased away back to the core group and another truck took its place. Were they trying to tell me something? Hmmm, maybe not the best place to spend the night. Perhaps they will leave. However at 19:00 more trucks arrive.

It is also cold and bleak as thick fog has rolled in from the ocean. More howls from the poor dog. I drive home again! The drive down and back were great.

Well at least I tried

A holt is the name for an otter’s house. I did not see any but the Otter’s Holt is well known reel that I play on my new carbon fiber flute.

https://thesession.org/tunes/636 You can hear it played if you scroll down.

A cameo.

James is off on an adventure in the truck. Street cleaning looms and I have to move his bike to the other side of Fell.

I venture out and fall into conversation with a guy who is sitting on the steps. I feel in my pockets to make sure I have the house keys and close the door.

Alas, the keys in my pocket are not the house keys but are James’s motorbike keys. I have locked myself out! I am in big trouble!

I look up and down the street to see if Jesus is around and could help me.

One of my windows is unlocked but access is tricky. I try but I am too old, fat, generally past it, to hop up onto a rickety fence and slither into the window.

I stand around on the street working out what I can do. I try to borrow a ladder from adjacent gas station. Asian lady with little English is terrified and I let it go.

Not Jesus but a young man called Eggi rescues me.

He, with friends, are hanging around. I explain my predicament and Eggi, like a goat, hops onto the fence by the window and jumps through into my apartment. He strides out of the front door: I am saved!

Whew! Alone on the street. Locked out of my house. In a foreign country. Mass shootings everywhere.

I try to give Eggi lots of money. He refuses. America is not all bad.

In case any of you are planning to break into my place, I have now locked the window.

I test negative! Hooray! After 2 weeks of isolated languor I can get on with life again.

We take down the barrier between my room and the one behind, creating a luxurious 2 room suite.

It is a great space.

It costs $100 to fill up the truck! Used to be $50. I blame everybody.

I find Greta hanging around in San Francisco. We used to work together. https://thequietripple.com/2017/03/25/great-is-an-anagram-of-which-womans-name/

We have a wonderful day, eating and driving around the city in the truck.

I give a talk at the University of San Francisco on the History of CERN, my part in its downfall. Robert Cailliau (Zoom) and Bebo White (in the flesh) also speak. I could not remember anything and so reread all the Press Releases that I had written for CERN since 1989. Amazing! I was so lucky to have been involved in all that stuff.

So much fun working with Roberto and Bebo again.