Two days ago, I picked up Susanne- a friend of ours who taught in Istanbul with Kris and I- from the Osaka airport, successfully negotiating 4 trains to get there. The last train was a special airport express that resembled a plane from the outside, very fancy on the inside, with reserved seats. One interesting feature of many Japanese trains is the announcements, first in a high pitched female voice in Japanese and then in a deeper, serious voice in English. Girlishness is 'cute' in Japan and high pitched voices, ruffly dresses, impossibly high heels and all the "Hello Kitty" type accessories are manifestations of this. (There are, of course, some Japanese girls/women who rebel against this look and sport high top sneakers, baggy jeans, etc.)
Yesterday Susanne and I had massages from an English friend of Kris' who has lived in Kyoto for 15 years and trained in the shiatsu method. While Susanne was being massaged first, I visited a local temple and shrine, with a beautiful multi-level garden and, just sat for a while enjoying the peace, only interrupted by the croaking of a frog and soft murmuring of people working in the garden. Back at Brigid's, in her traditional screened studio, covered in tatami mats, I had an hour of mostly gentle, occasionally mildly painful but enjoyable and relaxing pressure massage. The area that is being massaged is covered with cloth and no oil is used, unlike my previous experience of shiatsu in NY where I was naked and massaged with lots of sesame oil. At various points, Brigid asked me how I felt as she applied pressure. At the end she said I was in good shape but the sensitivity in my small intestine area might indicate a tendency to hold feelings in.
After our massages were done, before heading back to Hirakata where Kris lives, we looked for a restaurant that Brigid recommended. When we entered and I told the two guys behind the counter that Brigid and Tad had sent us and there was no comprehension in their eyes, this should have been the sign that we were in the wrong place, but we stayed and instead of the recommended soba noodles, drank beer and ate yakitori, Japanese skewered and barbequed meat and vegetables. I used my Point It book again - the page with pics of pigs, cows, goats, hens and other livestock- to identify which yakitori we wanted to try. The ground chicken balls and tofu appetizer mixed with things that resembled curled up sea creatures were the most delicious. The two young guys who had about 3 words of English between them, scurried around their small area behind the bar, chopping pieces of meat and chicken, arranging the tiny plates of food just so, keeping meticulous track of everybody's order and loading the tiniest dishwasher I have ever seen when the sink got full with dirty dishes. I shot a short video of them, but they thought I was simply taking a picture so one of them remained still for the first 15 seconds of it, holding his peace sign in the air while the other ran off to attend to a customer.
Tomorrow, the 3 of us are off to Hiroshima on a shinkansen, a high speed bullet train. We are spending 2 nights there.