New Things

Two years have passed since I moved into this apartment. I’m having the second spring in a remote town in the mountains. There is still lingering snow on the surrounding mountains but cherry blossoms and daffodils bloom around the town. I hear the song of birds and of streams swollen by melting snows.

In spring, people feel like starting something new, and I’m no exception. I began to ride an exercise bike every morning at the gym in this apartment building. The usual exercise bike is too high for me to reach the pedals because I’m short and I use the lower one that you ride with your legs a little elevated. Since I started the exercise, my legs have been tired and achy, but I’ve felt good.

The only setback for my health is a pollen allergy. I first developed it last spring and can’t go outside without a mask during the pollen season. When I strolled the mall without it the other day, I almost got drowned by my own snivel. In addition to inconvenience of wearing a mask all the time, I’ve had an unusual symptom this spring. I have a rough skin on the lower half of my face. It began to appear when the pollen season arrived and I think it also has to do with a pollen allergy. It irritates and reddens my face and I look so uncool.

On top of that, my left eyelid has often twitched lately. As it happens sometimes when I feel stress financially, the twitch isn’t pollen-related but rather money-related. Spring can bring a lot of new things after the long and harsh winter, but not all things are good…

Episode from

Living in The Rural Town of Japan by Hidemi Woods

Kindle and Audiobook available at Amazon.com

Photo by MAK on Unsplash

Free Japanese Tea

The other day, I went to a supermarket that was five stations away by train from my home for the first time. I’d wanted to shop there for some time, as I heard about its low prices. The store was spacious and clean with a wide assortment of low-priced merchandise. It had a deli food section and a bakery too.

What excited me most was its small cafe space. There were a few tables and chairs near the entrance with a machine that let customers draw two different kinds of Japanese tea and water, both iced and hot, for free! In addition to free tea, customers were allowed to eat or drink whatever they purchased at the store except for alcohol. It was a perfect place for me to eat lunch by saving money.

I strolled around the store in rapture selecting what to eat for lunch at the cafe space. I was thinking I would go with deli foods or freshly baked bread when I noticed my partner’s somber face. He wanted a better place for lunch and suggested just having a snack here before looking for a restaurant.

I agreed and started to hunt for a snack. I found a croquette at 30 cents each and bananas at half price because they went bad a little, and declared my findings to my partner triumphantly when he was choosing an expensive pastry from the bakery and a pack of cafe au lait.

Questions poured out of my mouth one after another, such as “Do you pay for a drink even though there are free drinks waiting for us?” and “Do you dare pay much more money for a pastry than these bananas, which are 50 cents for four?”, and eventually, he gave in. We had 30-cent croquettes and half-spoiled bananas over free tea at the cafe and he looked unhappy while I enjoyed so much.

We had lunch at a burger restaurant nearby later. The place had a cool atmosphere but the burger cost about three times as much as McDonald’s although it was a fast food restaurant itself. The lunch didn’t sit well with me, but my partner looked so happy…

Episode from

Living in The Rural Town of Japan by Hidemi Woods

Kindle and Audiobook available at Amazon.com

Photo by Bruno Oliveira on Unsplash

Fell into The Lava

This is a ramble about the bathroom and if you’re reading this while eating, I apologize. I got in the bathroom at a cafe yesterday. Although the cafe was Western-style, the bathroom was Japanese-style. For those who are unfamiliar with it, let me explain a little. The Japanese-style bathroom has a shallow bowl in the floor with no toilet seat. You have to squat down when you use it, which is terribly uncomfortable and unsanitary. I loathe it. When I encounter the Japanese-style, I don’t use it and look for the Western-style that is dominant nowadays in Japan.

In the cafe’s bathroom, a towel was hung beside the sink like in the bathroom of a home. Both the toilet and the sink were out of the question for me altogether. I left the cafe and went in the mall nearby which rest room was Western-style.

As a germ phobic, I always carry sterilizing liquid and some toilet seat covers that the Japanese bathroom rarely equips. And I have a ritual when I use the bathroom outside my house. I first wash my hands with soap, wipe them with a paper towel, open and close the bathroom door with the paper towel instead of my bare hand, wipe my hands thoroughly with toilet paper, spray the toilet seat with sterilizing liquid, put a toilet seat cover, and finally sit down.

During the ritual in the mall’s rest room, the unthinkable happened. I dropped my ring into the toilet bowl! It could have happened to anyone, but why me a germ phobic? Only two choices were given to me; either giving up the ring or dipping my hand into the bowl. And I had to decide quickly, as the train to my home was coming soon and the next train would be two hours later if I missed it.

While the ring is a cheap one, I’m also a cheap person. I picked up the ring from the bowl. I washed my hand and the ring with soap frantically over and over, and spray sterilizing liquid on them amply. I consumed the time for shopping and barely caught the train.

I wondered if I should have given up the ring. What if I fell into the lava for greed like Gollum in ‘Lord of the Rings’? On my way home, the station attendant didn’t take the ticket, so that I had a free train ride unexpectedly. That may have shown I didn’t fall. I’ve kept washing my hand but it still feels dirty…

Episode from

Living in The Rural Town of Japan by Hidemi Woods

Kindle and Audiobook available at Amazon.com

Photo by Ergo Zakki on Unsplash

No Babies, No Kids

The town I live in is enclosed by mountains and looks like being left behind the times. But two weeks ago, two modern cafes opened in the train station next to my nearest station. Since there was no Starbucks around the town, I was so happy to finally get a place to have coffee and relax in a good atmosphere.

I went to try those cafes quite excitedly. One of them had its interior walls all painted white with white furniture, and had a variety of sweets. While I enjoyed a cream puff there, a woman holding a baby came in. She was taking pleasure in making her baby crow. They took away my comfort and the good atmosphere altogether at once. I left there and looked in the other new cafe. It seemed conscious of Starbucks with chic, brown interior design and had quality easy chairs. Regrettably, those who were in the chairs were women with babies and dozing men with small children. I gave up getting in and came home under the flaming sun.

People with kids and babies are always my archenemies. They emerge wherever I go and knock the good atmosphere galley-west. I don’t understand a climate of tolerance toward noisy family’s misbehavior in Japan. Anything annoying is forgiven as long as they have kids or babies along. I had been waiting for years now, for a ‘No Babies, No Kids’ sign on the front of a cafe or a restaurant. It should be so, really, as I’m fed up with being a victim of a spoiled atmosphere by them…

Episode from

Living in The Rural Town of Japan by Hidemi Woods

Kindle and Audiobook available at Amazon.com

Photo by julien Tromeur on Unsplash

Marriage in Japan

I went out for lunch with my partner at a cafe the other day that stood across the train station in a Japanese desolate rural town where I live. To call it a cafe is a bit too fancy. It’s not the likes of Starbucks but rather a small old mom-and-pop diner that was built well over 30 years ago and remained as it was, which perfectly matched this old town itself.

We sat at the table and overheard a conversation from the table next to us. Three old women in their eighties sat around the table by the window. “She has passed away, too.” “This could be the last time we get together.” Although they were exchanging a downright sad conversation, they were talking in a matter-of-fact way and their chats were lively.

While we were eating a salad with watermelon that came with our main dishes of curry and rice with a fried pork cutlet, a family of three came in. A boy about ten years old and his parents in their thirties sat at the table near ours. As soon as their orders were taken, the boy started reading one of comic books that the diner placed for customers, and his father went outside to smoke. His mother was staring into space. The father came back in when their dishes arrived on the table but they didn’t talk while they were eating. Except that the parents occasionally said something to the boy separately, there was no conversation between the parents. After they finished eating, the father went out again to make a phone call, the boy played with diner’s puzzle toys, and the mother stared into space again. I saw through the window the father talk with someone over his phone pleasantly while smoking and laughing. He came back in and also began to play with a puzzle toy. I thought it was much more fun for him to have lunch with a person on his phone.

Quite too often, I see a married couple having almost no conversation at a restaurant. I wonder if people stop talking each other when they get married. While they must have clicked each other enough to get married in the first place, what makes them fall silent? Since I have never been married, I have no idea whether it’s because they have changed or they have lost interest in each other after marriage.

The closest married couple I know is my parents, which means my knowledge about marriage is a generation old. My parents are from farming villages in Kyoto that is the oldest city in Japan. According to the old custom, their marriage was arranged by their families’ intention not their own. Inevitably, they were strangers with no affection whatsoever. In my childhood, my mother used to say, “I wouldn’t have married such an ugly guy like your father unless he had money.” Times have changed, and people get married by their own will in Japan. Nevertheless, if a couple who liked each other finds it difficult to talk once they marry, I don’t understand what marriage is for. The mystery deepens still more.

The family of three left hastily after they were done with the toys and staring. The party of three old women ordered refills of their soft drinks repeatedly and lingered at the table with their conversations, as if they were reluctant to leave the diner.

Episode from

Living in The Rural Town of Japan by Hidemi Woods

Kindle and Audiobook available at Amazon.com

Photo by EIICHI HIRAKAWA on Unsplash

Bear Attacks

A black shape of a bear is drawn on a yellow background with big capital letters of ‘Beware of Bears!’. That is a poster I see everyday out of my apartment window lately. Not just one. It’s on the fence along a stream and at the little bridge over it so that I spot it everywhere sitting at my table. It has multiplied rapidly this year. On a bench at the nearby park, on the public bathroom wall in my neighborhood, at scattered vacant lots, the posters are rampant here and there that I’d never seen before in my town. Those are not just for warning. Those indicate the spots where bear’s foot prints were left or a bear was actually witnessed. From morning till night, patrol cars with loudspeakers drive around blaring out “Bears are spotted! Be careful when going out!” all day long. The car stops on the little bridge beneath my window and sets off firecrackers to scare off bears. Some members of the local hunting association fired blank shots there. It’s said that the reason why bears come down to a residential area from the mountains so often has to do with the climate change that causes a shortage of food for them.

About ten years have passed since I moved in this snowy town enclosed by the mountains. It’s been warmer and snowed less year after year compared to when I began to live here. That has helped make my winter days easier that I used to suffer from claustrophobia by the deep snow coverage.

Added to the climate change that affects my daily life, I also sense my own mind changes. I had feared if a monotonous country life rusted me away when I decided to move in here. It didn’t happen. Rather, the quiet life increased my concentration and contributed more productivity for my lifework than the time when I lived in the metropolitan area. I have a serener mindset than before and it gives me more understanding toward myself and the world I live in.

Recently, people have stayed home and worked remotely in Japan too. They have left big cities and moved to rural areas. More and more people from Tokyo have moved into my small town that I had expected nothing but to become desolate every year. There are many unfamiliar new residents in the apartment building where I live. The building used to look like a ghost house with dark windows, but it has almost no available room now. I had never imagined that would happen mere one year before. The unthinkable things occurred at the unthinkable speed. In this trend, we can’t tell what happens next. In three years, bears might be chasing after me. Not bears but people might start chasing people and killing each other. Or human race might extinct because of viruses. There might be days of a panic, or moments of danger for life. Even so, it could turn to be better. These unprecedented years have shown how much human imagination is limited. I myself have learned that a superficially dire thing can turn out to be a good thing in the end. Besides, I saw unthinkable things happen, so why not unthinkably good ones? I believe they could happen as well. They should.

Episode from

My Fear and Hope by Hidemi Woods

Kindle and Audiobook available at Amazon.com

Photo by Luca Massaro on Unsplash

A Fear of Aging

Before pains from my fall at the communal spa have gone completely, I accidentally got my foot caught in the heavy sauna door the other day. I felt an electric shock in my foot that was swelling in an instant. The pain was so severe that I could hardly breathe. I dreaded to think that I had a broken bone. While thankfully it didn’t seem broken, I bruised again, the arch and both sides of my right foot this time. I have been living in pain so far, putting poultices on my foot and walking in large shoes with a loosened shoelace. What shocked me more than injuries was my recent careless behavior. I have seen myself become a blunderer and lose my edge. Simply, I felt old.

Between the two injuries, there was another happening. I got a pin that commemorated Disneyland’s 60th anniversary when I visited there a few years ago. The limited-edition pin was sparkling and super cool. I loved it so much that I hadn’t worn it because I couldn’t imagine how devastated it might be if I dropped and lost it. I had displayed it on the shelf for years but one day, I summoned courage and put it on my sweater when I went out.

As I had thought, my courage had worn out by the time I headed home. I just couldn’t bear the fear of dropping it any longer. I took it off and put it in my bag. A couple of days later, I noticed it was missing. I knew I had been a little drunk when I put it in my bag, but I couldn’t remember exactly where I put it. I rummaged the entire bag through pockets and pouches but it disappeared. I haven’t seen it since.

It has lingered on my chest and I’ve launched a closet-wide search once in a while with no luck. Similar to the two accidents in the spa, my behavior shocked me more than a loss of the pin. I was upset over my mess incurred by a woeful lack of attention and my wretched state of concentration. I feared that my brain activity has begun to deteriorate.

I confided my fear to my partner. While I conceded that I had become old, he dismissed it easily. According to him, I had been like this since he first met me in my teens. Because he has seen my blunders so many, such as slipping on the wet sidewalk and opening the KFC’s automatic doors by doing ‘Home Alone’ which startled the salesperson, or, tripping on one of the stairs and rolling all the way down to the platform of a train station, he thinks my mess is better than in my twenties. He said that I was much more careless, messier and older in my youth than now.

His comment reminded me of a box of my scarves that I lost about six years ago. It was a cardboard box in which I stowed all my scarves that I had gotten through sales and outlets. The treasure box for me was kept in my closet. But one day, I found it missing. I had searched for years all around my apartment but couldn’t find it. The box was too big to be obscured by other stuff or to just disappear. I had developed numerous theories about the mystery during those years, for example, a thief exclusively for scarves took it, or my partner hid it out of spite, or it was sucked into a black hole of my apartment and gone to the galaxy far, far away. And then, it came out very unexpectedly, very casually. When I straightened up the closet, I put a label to each box. I mislabeled one box that was for scarves. All the while of my vigorous search, it had sit right in front of my eyes with a false label on it.

Like my scarves, I hope that my pin also appears out of somewhere, someday. It might as well though, I would have really grown dim by then and forgotten about that I had it and lost it to begin with…

Episode from

My Fear and Hope by Hidemi Woods

Kindle and Audiobook available at Amazon.com

Photo by Oleksandra Petrova on Unsplash