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Date: Wed, Feb 16, 1995 10:14 PM EST Dear Pa, Soon, if not by now, you should have the tape that I promised you so long ago. You'll have to excuse that it jumps around a bit. Some of it was taken on the fly -- especially walking along on the railroad track during my escape to Wakayama. My stay with the Yamadas was interesting. I always envied TFW's homestay in Kyoto back in 1983-4. My week as a refugee was as close as I have come. It was a boon to my Japanese study -- especially language concerning earthquakes, fast escape, volunteering/disaster aid, and some on home life. The Yamada house is a traditional house: two-story, 4x4 post and beam (with skinny 2x4s on exterior walls) construction, horizontal lathing (no plywood, some cross-bracing), mud-straw-plaster exterior, VERY heavy tile roof, and about 20 years old. The house foot-print is about 1 square meter less than the total land area (which is defined by a 2-meter concrete block wall). Distance from the two-lane road to the doorway is about one of my footprints. The passing of a delivery truck does not go un-noticed from within. The Yamada household consists of a grandmother on the father's side (80s), mother and father (early 60s), oldest brother (later 30s), and finally TFW's and my Japanese teacher (Mutsuko by name, but we call her sensei which means teacher). Sensei is one year older than TFW. My entry into their household was as an older brother. For the week that I was in residence, I arrived home from work and was greeted at the door by sensei and her mother. They would stand at the entryway until I had finished taking off my coat and shoes. The Japanese do the latter with incredible grace, for me it is my final labor of the day. After that, on with the indoor slippers -- which for my feet admit only the toes. Careful not to lose them along the way, I scuffle into the family-gathering-meals-TV room. The floor is the delicately smooth straw mat called tatami. There is a TV in one corner, a fully automatic, temperature sensing, beep-and-buzzer-emitting kerosene heater -- with remote control -- in another, and a display of Japanese dolls in a third. The center of the room is occupied by a square, 16-inch high table. An electric heater is located underneath the main frame of the table, the top is removable, and a quilt extending 3 feet all the way around is sandwiched in between. Sensei's father would be seated on the floor with his legs tucked under the table and quilt. He would acknowledge me with a smile and a greeting, and go back to his newspaper. The TV and heater were always on. Five channels of earthquake news. The walls of this room are not really walls, rather, they are sliding doors going to other rooms or into hallways. Fairly soon after stretching my own feet under the table, the sliding doors near to the kitchen open and sensei brings me Japanese green tea. It looks like lawn-mower produce, tastes like hot water; I sip it gladly. Sensei slides back out and returns a few minutes later with Mrs. Yamada and my dinner. Mrs. Yamada sits down at the table across from me and comments on how inadequate the meal is for such a large foreigner. Once again she questions sensei whether I can eat Japanese food. "Probably this meal is inedible" is the last thing I allow her to say before launching my well practiced ensemble of culinary compliments. Japanese custom has it that at night you wash up, rinse off and jump into a hot tub. At par-boil you get out and head straight into bed. I am a morning shower person. This distressed Mrs. Yamada. She tried very hard to convert me. Outside of aftershocks, I am sure that this remains her chief concern for my welfare. Finally it is time for bed. I shared a room with two standup pianos, a couch and a sizable stereo system/record collection. In the space not occupied, I laid out a futon for my bed. Those of you who have purchased Japanese futons in the States may not recognize the items I used. For one, there are actually two: a lower and an upper futon. The winter-season upper futon is essentially identical to the lower futon and resembles the crossing of a mattress with a quilt. Good protection if the house fell down. I received notification that I passed the Level 2 Japanese proficiency test. There is one level (1) to go. TFW passed Level 1 two years ago. Copyright 1995-2009 Finesituation. All Rights Reserved. |
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