Bee payload, lovely dinner out and retiree karaoke - Fri 18 May

Not polite conversation generally, but you're pretty safe with retirees - my innards haven't been done their job for a few days. Mama gave me a teaspoon of spicy bee royal jelly cure-all, a glass of cold milk (it makes her go like a charm) and advised me to "excite my bottom" with a strong jet of water from the Washlet in the loo.

It's also the third day in a row of needing to wear a long-sleeved top to keep me safe from wayward bees, and I only have one. It spent the last two days over a smokey bamboo fire - today, as I put it on, I thought of salami.

Finally, today was the day I'd hoped for in coming to a bee farm - the playing with bees day! Boss, Ono-san and I went out to look at Ono-san's three nests in a back field. Here is the photo-op picture, with thick rubber gloves and a netting hat. I wasn't much practical use for the day, but I was a very interested onlooker.


For those without insecty issues, have a close-up look at the bees:


The main business of the day was splitting the nests - more nests means, when they get to production capacity of about 30,000 bees, more honey. Boss examines the bee hives, looking for frames with lots of larvae to split into empty hives, in order to increase their total. He finds this one lacking bees.


The male bees (one pictured) are useless in the hive except for occasional procreation. They have no sting, don't work or leave the nest to go flower-hopping, but consume precious resources.

As he looked through the nests, Boss ruthlessly dispatched swathes of the unhatched male larvae with a knife, distinguished by being raised and larger, like little cities, than the modest female larvae.

As we came across multiple royal jelly stores on a frame, the only food fit for a queen bee, it would be sucked into Ono-san's mouth. It is meant to beneficial to the health.


This full frame is the seed for one new hive, with lots of ready larvae and the same lineage as their neighbours. Beside the populated frame, Boss and Ono-san inserted some plain frames of wire-supported starter wax, for the coming home extensions for the busy bees.


It was fascinating, and interesting to be so close to insects that might normally get your adrenaline going, while feeling (nearly) totally safe.

Afterward, Boss and I walked deeper into Ono-san's property. We found a serene pond surrounded by foliage, and also various crops growing in greenhouses and fields. I sampled some delicious fresh Japanese strawberries. On our way back down, various large butterflies fluttered around me, one landing on my shirt :) One big black one looked more like a bird than a butterfly.

On the way back to Ono-san's farm after lunch, Boss stopped for me to take a picture of this love hotel kind of in the middle of nowhere. It's called Hotel Snowman's. Click on the picture to check out their riddle of a slogan (above the red and green characters on the building).


In the afternoon, Ono-san and her friend Hirokawa-san returned from digging up bamboo shoots, and prepared them for boiling. They're creepy looking things with their alien roots.


Boss turned up and there was a Boss-man, Boss-rooster photo-op when he picked up the rooster and hugged it till it did as it was told and stopped its squawking.


Boss popped by his own hives on the way home. With around 50 hives, it looks like the Gold Coast.


Must share another picture of lovely Mama with lovely Bohgi.

Mama and Boss' daughter was coming for dinner at theirs, but Ono-san's friend Hirokawa-san's earlier suggestion of a going away barbeque celebration for me morphed into the rest of the crew taking me out to dinner at a fancy local restaurant.

The chef has been on TV and in magazines, and he came and sat with us after the rush was over and chatted with my Japanese hosts. He gave me a little cubed Kobe beef and sesame seed dish over a tealight candle, on the house. The meals were exquisitely presented, but don't ask me what they were in detail.


Afterwards, I had the delight of a night out with my retiree hosts to a local "snack" hostess bar, called Le Petit. Present were Mr and Mrs Ono, Mrs Hirokawa who I'd met that day, and Mr Hirokawa and the chef, who I'd met that night. Here, Ono-san sings karaoke on the little stage resembling a Marilyn Monroe shrine.


Mr Hirokawa sat next to me, and I confess in the loud environment, with a touch of drink under both our belts, and his strong regional accent, I didn't impress with my listening comprehension skills. One that did get through was great - remember to ask me about the hot dog story.

I was encouraged to sing over and over, and my rendition of Japanese songs, learned a decade ago via tapes lent from Japanese highschool friends, went down a treat. (Picture the equivalent, a young Japanese person yawling out retro English songs, and you'll understand why!) My family would probably recognise some of the songs, having suffered through them during my teen years. One of the patrons took a moment to sniff the scent of the flowers during one of my renditions, and afterwards told me it was better than if a Japanese person had sung it. :D Some songs were terribly out of my range, but were still received with gusto - it's a lovely feeling of acceptance when an audience loves your crappy singing.

The machine would rate your singing based on three criteria that remain a mystery to me. If your score was between certain ranges (not necessarily the highest score), the hostesses would cry out and you would be congratulated with a prize from a basket of sweets and treats. As everyone passed their winnings to me, I amassed a small larder of goodies by the end of the night.


By the end of the night, Ono-san was quite tipsy. The chef from the restaurant, who'd supplied a bottle of Japanese shochuu liquor, began to try to throw beans into one of the hostess' cleavage. Ono-san made jokes to another hostess about a tall guy like me likely having three legs, and encouraged me to give her a squeeze. I wasn't sure what etiquette demanded of me, and responded with a good flush of purple.

The full carload dropped me home, driven by the sober Mrs Ono. The two gents hopped out for a pee in the garden, and taught me the phrase 'tsureshon' or friendship peeing.

As it was about 11 by the time I was dropped back, the Komuros were well asleep. They'd left the front door open for me and a light on, and had falled asleep on their futons in front of the TV. I turned it and the light off and headed cheerily to bed.

What a great day.