Observations - small and large

 Despite the long line to board the train, the many departing the train, the Westerners lugging large suitcases, the train will depart in 2 minutes.

How clever for the top of the toilet tank to double as a hand washing station during flushing.

The granola chunks tantalizing me in the shop were nut covered fried chicken chunks and the donut was filled with noodles.

The flooded fields abut the tended flower gardens of the immaculate homes.

The fog rests on the landscape like a soft white blanket. 

The eye’s desire vastly overestimates the stomach’s capacity. 

Sure, we'll have that, too ....not!

We perused the menu, reading down through the 14 choices of grilling meats

And settled on three, bypassing the opportunity for grilling pig womb, or tracheal rings,

And passing on the delicacy of rumen (look it up) or large intestine.

Flashbacks to childhood of staring down a cows tongue, taste buds included (!)

On our dinner table, the stern look of my father demanding that we place tongue

Against tongue, served cold, yet more daunting.

Sure, we'll have that, too, has its limits at fish eyes and pigs feet,

While heartily applauding the Japanese!

 

No escape from Trump in Kanazawa, Japan

I heard his voice in the restaurant, berating the Japanese

For their lack of participation in his war of death and destruction.  

The two elderly Japanese seated adjacent to us

Were watching him, listening to him berate them,

The serious looks on their faces revealed nothing

But distress surely showed on my face.

I saw his face in the Japanese newspaper, on the front page,

Criticizing the Japanese people for their lack of

Participation in his illegal and unethical war,

The newspaper was on the table next to 

Our beautifully arranged plates of sashimi 

Prepared with care and attention by the Japanese

Chef behind the counter.  

We were the only Americans in these two small

Restaurants, and we feel deep shame at the 

Actions of our government, the words of 

Our President, who damages everything

His words and actions touch.

In these times, I am not proud to be an

American.

 

Finding poetry in Kanawaza, Japan

Of note

That some of them write clearly, so Google Translate can reveal their poetry

And others, a cursive not unlike my own that will never reveal to a Westerner

Their hidden wisdom, 

Of note 

That several poets wrote this one trove of sage advice

How many Americans poets can share their moment in the limelight

Even when the light is so dim as to be non-existent

Of note

Is that saying "All of you are true in your heart" but 

Followed by "the truth of the matter is that the work is not done

In the name of wisdom, goodness and diligence"

Two different opinions adjacent to one another

Peacefully.

Yesterday,

I learned eight reasons why Japan is so peaceful, clean

And the trains run on time.

Kaizen, Ikigai, Hara Hachi Bu and the others

But let us start with every day with the intent to 

Make the world 1% better, finding a reason for living,

Forest bathing and endure with dignity.  

What happened to our country

In its quest for power and money?

We have no trains, litter is everywhere,

We are rude and barbaric, 

We have lost our souls

In America. 

 

Sumo wrestler turned restauranteur in Kanazawa, Japan

Wait, wait a minute, that face in front of me, the guy, the cook,

That's his face up on the TV, sumo wrestling, yep, that's him, check, double check.

Ahah, that's him on the posters on the wall in his ...what do they call that

Skimpy little outfit that barely covers their enormous bulk.

The outfit whose sole purpose is to hold the jewels and provide a grabbing 

Strap for their opponent, so we can watch, in fascination, the ripple of their bare 

Flesh as they barrel into each other, one heaving the other off the small platform

Onto the laps of the adoring crowd.

Wait, wait a minute, I would not want to be sitting right next to the ring

Where it's possible that a 300 pound man, skimpily clad, likely slippery,

Might fall on top of me.  I place myself back in my seat at the restaurant counter,

The restaurant that has room for eight, maybe ten.  

While slurping sumptuous ramen noodles in a fish broth, I could not stop

Moving my gaze from the screen, to the man in front of me, the cook and owner,

In a back and forth, kind of a disbelief, but why not, after all.

This is Japan, the land of the sumo wrestler, the land of Ramen.  

 

You can never experience this with Google Maps, honoring the dead in Tokyo, Japan

It's hard to tell on a Google map what a place really is, how it feels,

Who is there, what they are doing and so we go to see for ourselves.

We go to read, to learn and to explore, and to respect their grief, their losses,

In spite of our own, in addition to our own, we see the Japanese bowing 

At the entrance to the shrine which holds the spirits of all those who have died 

In war, protecting their country, their people. 

We watch them, and do the same, bowing at the entrance, and clapping twice,

Before turning away.  There is no one clapping on Google Maps.  

there is no one walking away, then suddenly turning back to face the shrine

Again, and again, under the gateway that reaches hundreds of feet into the sky,

Bowing, or to tell us that people are mourning their losses in the building over there,

The one that says "serious prayer only", no, gaggles of tourists are not welcome there.

Google maps does not show the etched lithograph of a photograph of Tokyo after 

300 B2 bombers flattened the area, the area where we were standing yesterday.

So, to those who say that travel is not needed anymore, that there are no surprises,

Google Maps can never show humanity, our tears, our joy, those standing to honor their

Dead, grieving their dead, and moments later celebrating today, chocolate ice cream dribbling

Down the chin of the small girl as she grips the leg of her mother. 

 

Peace among the cherry blossoms

Was it the rain or the falling cherry blossoms tap tapping

How many colors of pink flooded into my eyes (my soul) seeking 

The gentleness of a cloudy, cool day in Tokyo, 

A city where steel towers overlook colorful clusters of umbrellas

And crowds murmur as they gaze upward, shuffling carefully 

Along glistening paths and bridges that seem to bow before such beauty

The ponds dance in the rain, a percussion of droplets falling into 

And bouncing up, the clouds gather and release them this 

Cloudy day in Tokyo, this day come and now gone,

My cheeks already drying in the sun.