This is what the Internet was invented for, my friends!  Somebody should do a rice ball version.

This makes me sooooo proud.

But I like it really.  Don’t you?

Today was such a fine day that we took JJ’s Cafe outdoors, to a nearby park called Suma Rikyu Park.  It is a huge and very well-maintained public park spanning some 82 hectares that once belonged to the Imperial Family, and was originally modelled on the Palace of Versailles Park in Paris.  The entrance fee is a mere three dollars (it’s common to have to pay to visit green parks in Japan, the free ones are ghastly), and you can buy a yearly pass for less than 10 bucks.  There are two kinds of parks in Suma Rikyu: European-style (pictured) and Japanese.  Both are huge, beautiful, and perfectly maintained.  I don’t know why more people don’t go there.  Every time I’ve been, it’s been nearly empty.  I don’t know why.

Today was so much fun!  The weather was perfect, and we found an excellent picnic ground.  Our customers brought a pot-luck lunch, including sandwiches created from bread baked at one of the finest German bakeries in Kobe (of which there are many) and home-baked “organised vegetable cake” which I finally figured out was “organic carrot cake.” 

The whole park was nearly empty.  At one stage I borrowed a fractious baby from a customer and took it to for a walk around the fountains, to give her tired mother a break.  The baby was fascinated by the water, I was fascinated by her, and hence the two of us had a roaring good time!  It was really nice to pretend to be a granny, even for a short while …. I guess it’s one of the perks of this job. 

Later on, after the young mothers had left for home to get the dinner on, we older ones stayed behind and chatted in the resthouse, mainly about our jobs, our hobbies, our aches and pains, and grandkids.

I hope that JJ’s Cafe can be the kind of place that any woman, at any stage of life, can drop in and be assured of a sympathetic ear, and some intelligent conversation.  It’s exactly the kind of place that I wish I’d had as a young mother.   And exactly the kind of place I’ll love to visit as a grandmother. 

(And I still can’t believe I get paid to do this!  Somebody, pinch me please.)

And you thought the Japanese were pushing the age thing!

… if he had known that his portrait would end up all the way in Japan.  Courtesy of Musee Fesch, Napolean and various Italian Renaissance works (including this stunning Boticelli) are holding court in Kyoto Museum until May 24th.   By all means go and take a look.  It’s only 12 bucks, and it sure beats going all the way to Corsica.

No, I’m not a fan and although I attempted several of her books when I was young, I gave up on most of them halfway through.  One book that gripped me from beginning to end was The Fifth Child.  I remember reading it and feeling puzzled, wondering how such a situation could ever occur; how could parents possibly be afraid of their own son?  Now, after reading this heartbreaking – and groundbreaking – Salon article, I am starting to understand.  Don’t forget to read the hundreds of letters in response, you may be amazed.  Here’s one quote that really struck me: “I’ve cared for people suffering from all sorts of mental disorders in the course of my working life. One thing I have noticed though across the years & across the world, is the urge to get quite mystical & wax lyrical about children suffering various conditions while being simply horrified & repulsed by those children once they reach adulthood. Toddlers & young children bring out the empathy, warmth & affection in society. Large lumbering adults bring out quite the opposite.”

Looks like Japan isn’t the only country in the world having problems dealing openly with these issues.

Today heralds the first day of my spring vacation.  I get three whole days (whoopee!).  Unfortunately, those three days are not consecutive, so I can’t go anywhere interesting this year.  That doesn’t matter, because I’ve decided that I’m going to stay right here in the concrete jungle and spend it meeting with interesting people.  And right now, there is no shortage of them in my life.

This morning I went to meet with “Chika,” a newish friend.  We first got to know each other last year at one of my lectures, and our friendship was just starting to blossom when she suddenly ran off to Sri Lanka to spend six months meditating in an ashram (I hope I didn’t drive her to it!).  I really did like her, and missed her when she was gone.

Now Chika’s back, and eager to get reconnected.  So today I shlepped all the way to her apartment in a certain part of Osaka – dowdy and unfashionable, but famed for its aquarium – to have lunch and talk about her experiences in Sri Lanka.  To my surprise and concern, she seemed really confused and unfocused, and talked almost constantly about how she couldn’t stand the people or culture of Japan, and wanted to leave permanently as soon as possible.  But I quickly recognised that she was suffering from the kind of brain fog that hits us when we return to a once-familiar environment after being out of it for so long.  I guess you might call it reverse culture shock.  It can strike at any time.  (For example, I’m firmly convinced that I’ve become so acclimatised to the disgusting environment and air pollution of Japan that if you took me out of it and returned me to NZ, I would go into systemic shock and die within minutes.  Really.) 

Anyway … after five hours of heart-to-heart chat about various things, she finally confessed that she had an ulterior motive for asking me out for lunch.  Yes, you guessed it: she wants to take English lessons with me, and she wants to invite all her friends along as well.  At first I tried to refuse, but then I thought, “Miko, when you’re on a roll …. roll with it!“  At this rate, I won’t be having a summer break, either.  But who needs breaks when you are really doing what you love?  Ask Petra.

That’s what it’s like to eat blowfish.  Today one of my ladies told me that she celebrated her 20th wedding anniversary last weekend by going out to eat blowfish testicles with her husband and their two teenagers.  It cost about $100 per person, and on the way home she started to feel ill and wondered if she had been poisoned (all part of the fun, I’m sure!).  Fortunately by the next morning she was completely recovered. 

I’ve eaten blowfish exactly three times in my life.  Obviously it didn’t kill me!  So I don’t see what all the fuss is about. 

I don’t even like it very much.  Or truffles either, for that matter.  But at least truffles don’t kill people.

(I have to start for work soon, I’ll write as much as I can now). 

The girl, I’ll just call her Misa, won’t arrive back until Sunday, so obviously I haven’t heard the whole story yet, but here are the details as I know them:

1.  The profile that the agency gave her of her host family vaguely described a “married couple, no children or pets.”  When she got to London and met them, she discovered that this description was adequate except for one crucial point.  The couple were – get this – in their nineties.  Now call me ageist, but I really don’t think that this is satisfactory.  Which brings me the next point.

2.  The very day after Misa arrived, the husband fell ill, and had to be taken to hospital, where he is currently listed as “in critical conditon.”  It was Misa who had to call the ambulance service, because the wife was too distraught to do anything, and furthermore barely speaks any English herself.

3.  There is no hot water in the bathroom.  Apparently the gas appliance that heats the water broke down some time ago, and the couple never saw the point in buying a new one (well, at their age …!).  So Misa showers daily in cold water. 

4.  The agency did not give Misa any advance information about the language school.  They didn’t tell her the location of the school, or even the name.  Somewhat naively, Misa showed up expecting her host family to advise her on the details.  They, of course, were clueless, having had no direct contact with the agency at all (my guess is that they were recruited for the job through a classified ad in a local newspaper, and I’ll bet that they are being paid a pittance for it).  Misa eventually found the school by herself but only after a lot of trouble and stress. 

5.  Misa’s mum tells me that the agency’s attitude (previously warm and solicitious) changed markedly once she had handed the money over.  Then they became rather cold, as if they had lost interest in her completely.  She was a little taken aback at the time, but not overly alarmed.

6.  Misa’s mum has sent several emails to the agency, describing the situation and demanding a change of host family.  No response.  Whenever she calls she gets passed around like a hot potato from agent to agent (the one she originally dealt with is always mysteriously unavailable).   She’s going there in person today to state her case, and ask for an explanation about this shabby treatment.

She wants to know if she has a case, or if she’s just making a fuss about nothing.  I say, hell yeah you have a case!  For 4K I would expect a bit more bang for my buck than that!

What say you?  Anyway, I still haven’t heard the whole story yet, I’ll probably get the details from the girl next week.  And I have to wonder, a little fearfully, what the fine print on the contract reads.  Let me know what you think so far.