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.

Whaling, scraping with Junko, and Kampo Spa at Arima Onsen - Thu 17 May

This morning, the TV wouldn't turn on. It took quite a bit of fiddling before it kick started. Mama was ready to go out that morning and buy a new one.

The morning newspaper-digest talk show (an unusual show format) was all over a big story about a 17 year old Japanese who'd decaptitated his mum in her sleep - "...you can't kill people if there's no war..." - and taken her head in a bag for a little trip to watch R&B music videos at a local store for a while before taking the bag to the police and confessing. When they searched the house, they found the mother's arms standing up in pot plants.

As he does every morning and night, Boss passed the early morning playing Microsoft card games.

In the car on the way to Ono-san's house for another day of bee-frame cleaning, he talked politics. He explained how the Japanese government are liars, claiming that nuclear power is safe but refusing to build them in known earthquake-prone areas. As Kobe demonstrated, however, anywhere in Japan is capable of catastrophic earthquake.

Somehow, I also brought up the Japanese whaling issue. It seems the Japanese are well aware of the rest of the world's displeasure at their whale consumption habits. I tread very carefully around this topic, it's one area I've seen people get very touchy. Several pro-Japanese-whaling opinions have been put to me (and no counter-whaling ones).

• whale numbers are increasing
• they eat so much plankton at once, leaving not enough for the other sea animals
• that they're smart isn't a good reason - other animals are smart. Cows' big eyes shed a tear when they're shot, he explained
• they eat or use ALL of it, with a spirit of gratitude, wasting nothing - even the beard is used for puppet strings.

He then commented that he doesn't believe whales need to be eaten. He just doesn't like the hypocrisy of this kind of imposed 'selective vegetarianism'.

He explained how the Japanese have no pride in their country now, that no national flags are flown (indeed are torn down or burned, due to associations with war crimes) and that the national anthem is never sung.

We drove a fair way to pick up Junko, a couple of years older than me, whose photograph graced these pages on Monday 15 May, two days back. On her days off work, she volunteers at the Ono's - she's interested in getting into bees.

I spotted a shop called N'ABLE HOUSE on the drive, which didn't seem a very capable name for a business. Also, a sign for a business called 'Daddy's Ca#e', where #=a music treble clef. I read it as 'Daddy's Cage', and thought it worth asking my fellow passengers about. They explained it was 'Daddy's Cafe', and agreed 'Daddy's Cage' would be a strange name for a business.

On the drive, Boss explained to Junko he wouldn't be able to drop her home for various reasons, including he'd promised he was going to take me early to an onsen (hot spring), which was a little embarrassing, and that she lived far away and it added up to a lot of driving in a day, and that he might have to take his wife shopping, as she doesn't have a licence and the wind today was strong for bike riding. Uncharacteristically for a young Japanese woman being spoken to by an older man, she piped right up and repeatedly complained. He offered her bus money, but it would still take her an age to get home.

Boss explained how the Japanese had the most respectful word for 'mother'. I didn't quite get his logic, which seemed to be this:

1. The kitchen in old Japanese homes was always in the north. The word for north is 'kita'.
2. The original phrase for mother was 'person from the north' or 'kita no kata'.
3. 'kita no kata' became 'o-kita-sama', which became modern day 'o-kaa-san'.

To me, this still says to me that mother means 'kitchen person' - maybe I missed the point.

The fire wasn't already boiling today when we got to Ono-san's - he knows how to start a fire, with a blow torch.

It took a long time for the water to warm. We still hadn't got scraping by midday, when Boss turned up and took me to a nearby little restaurant for some cheap and delicious pork noodles and fried rice. I explained my ambitions to photograph as many as I could of the varied "Don't jump out in front of traffic" signs around the narrow roadways, and we detoured on the way back for a snap of a couple of them.


During the day, Ono-san had a try at the electricity-based method of attaching the wax starters to the frame wires, with much-congratulated success.


During the workday, I grilled Junko on the Kansai regional dialect, because I've been quite interested in tucking a few novelty Kansai expressions under my belt. She helped me build up a little translation table of grammar and phrases.

Boss figured this boiler heated the water hotter and was taller so more convenient. He reboiled some of the cleaned frames and scraped up the wax residue that came off.


After an early knock-off, Boss drove me to the Arima Onsen district, which has around 1000 years of history. We visited Boss' favourite, Kampo Spa, the highest on the mountain and therefore the only one with drinkable onsen water. He also likes that there are natural products for toiletries - I had a shampoo selection of light brown horse neck-oil, or jet-black charcoal. The onsen water was a semi-opaque red, with a high iron content.

Tonight's dinner was temaki - roll-your-own sushi in seaweed. I WILL be making these, yummo.


There was a reprise of the whaling discussion during dinner, brought up by Boss. Some more points were raised by Mama.

• The Chinese eat everything on four legs except tables, and everything that flies except planes. No-one makes an outcry about them eating dogs, which is discriminatory.
• As the number of whales increases, and there's not enough food for them, they're smart - they kill themselves by beaching themselves.
• Whale meat is very healthy!

Boss went on a myth-debunking spree, explaining that the greenhouse effect is a lie - just try filling a bath with ice and melting it, does it overflow? Also, there's no such thing as the ozone layer - has anyone seen it? "We get lied to a lot."

On TV, there was something like Japanese Survivor comedy, with two men in the wild trying to scratch together food and having adventures, all with subtitles - very good for my natural Japanese!

I popped out in the dark to the rice fields immediately behind the apartment building, and enjoyed the utter din of frogs.

I learned tonight that the Komuros use the stings straight from live bees in their apitherapy (bee sting therapy), not needles. [Note - this understanding was later further refined - they pull the stings out and apply them manually with tweezers, there's no angry bee swarms on epidermises.] Their patients have had crippling rheumatism alleviated, several kinds of cancer cured, hernias fixed, and the treatment fixes herpes as well. [More information to come - I watched over a patient's treatment the next Saturday!]

Bee frame scrubber, and Bogey eats with chopsticks - Wed 15 May

My nine-to-five today was cleaning bee wax from the removable frames from the hives at Ono-san's place. Note my glamorous "don't-bee-sneaking-up-on-mee" headwear - I heard him say killer bees.


First you heat the frames in water in a prostrate recycled hot water system, fueled by burning bamboo.


Then you scrape the par-boiled vermin grubs that love the hives out of the slots at the base of the frames. Close-up:


Finally, you scrape the wax from all over the frame, frequently dunking it in the water to keep the wax soft. It's smokey work, often tear-inducing, and the occasional bang of an exploding bamboo segment certainly keeps you awake.

Ono-san popped over to offer me some fresh honey during the morning.


At morning recess, after some lemon ice-tea and a few sweet breads and bikkies, Takashi keeps the chicken gang away from the cat's bread snack. The cats are a bit hen-pecked around here.


I was offered a special treat, the raw egg of a Chinese chicken, pictured continously running away from me.


As Mrs Ono had promised, it was delicious, and the yolk was particularly sweet. When I said as much to Takashi, he explained it was because these were special eggs. Unlike the eggs in supermarkets, these ones are fertilised. No wonder that chicken didn't want anything to do with me.


I chewed through a LOT of eighties music during the day, and was inspired to note down some ideas for music of my own. I have not made time for ONE BIT of my own music-making during my trip.

At knock-off time, Ono-san showed me the little hat stands he'd made for Boss during the day from deer antlers - they'd eaten the meat.

At the end of the day, waiting for my lift home, I spotted a rooster getting a very personal chicken pole dance.


Ono-san also showed me a bee-hive at the back of his place. This one's architecture looked to me to be inspired by shrines.


I thought you might like a chance to see The Komuro's dog Bohgi ('Bogey') at Rokkou Bee Kingdom. To reframe, he is now aged sixteen. He is accorded the rights of a human family member. He eats at the table, fed by Mama and Boss' chopsticks. As he now lacks all his teeth, an endearing, lolling tongue protrudes permanently. Love him.

A road trip - Tue 15 May

My first full day in Ashiya was a day as a "guest" - we had a 360km return trip from Ashiya to Okayama to collect an orchid, which bees love, and then meet with the local bosses of the apiculture group and the apitherapy group.

I had some of their home-brew acacia honey with my breakfast, yum.

Boss explained what a "Washlet" is - it's the attachment on the toilet that shoots warm water at your bum. With a pleased expression on his face, he made a slow hulahoop motion, and said "Boss, OK, OK."

In the car, there were a couple of interesting gadgets. You put a credit card into one, and when you pass through tollways, it debits the toll from the card.

The other was a GPS-enabled fine-avoidance device, which verbally warns of approaching stop sign, stop light and regular speed camera locations. It also has a ray-gun detector and beeps with increasing urgency as you approach the source.


We picked up Ono-san and a bottle of all-powerful bamboo shoot mineral extract as a gift for the orchid folks. The extract, the colour of black tea, is used as a health tonic, beauty treatment, and cleaning product!

We first dropped by a small plot of land that Ono-san had bought the previous day, and Boss checked it out for the best spot for bees nests.

On the way to Okayama, Boss stopped for directions, and came back saying the old man had been argumentative - "Shut up a minute, you." He had told him to turn at a place where there once was a homemaker centre.. Boss said old people think they know best.

I spotted this store.


Later in the day, I was extremely disappointed to miss the photo op of the store 'Godai Drugs', but at least had the pleasure of explaining it to Boss and Ono-san.

At our first destination in Okayama, to collect the orchid, there were cherry trees fruiting, and we got to try some of the fruit. Tasty, not as juicy and sweet and large as cherries in Australia.
They also put Adobe CDs to good use in the trees, scaring off birds.

They also keep bees, and there was talk of a delicious but stinky honey created when the bees make the honey from soba. Delicious but stinky?

Here, a jar of the killer bees. I don't want to meet any.


We stopped for a tonkatsu lunch. Ono-san and the Boss, right.


While driving, I saw a large sign outside a business that had needed a letter added. My camera wasn't fast enough, but it read "W ElC O M E"

We visited Takami-kaichou, who runs the Hyogo prefecure's apiculture group, and got some advice on splitting nests, making frames and attaching seed wax,

and catching wild bees. As soon as we were out of earshot, Boss launched a reprise on a theme he had been expounding on the trip up, namely that everyone hates Takami-kaichou, he loves himself, and teaches you everything saying "Don't you know this?"

We then visited Ikeda-kaichou, the head of the local apitherapy (bee sting treatment) group, and his wife, who Boss introduced saying, "My girlfriend".

Naturally enough, they keep bees.


They all had a chat and sent me off to explore the neighbourhood.

Directly behind the Ikeda house was a 700 year old bare wood Shinto shrine, now fallen into disuse.


I made a leisurely exploration inside

and outside,

until a megabee encouraged me off on a walk. I headed toward the cultivated fields and interspersed dwellings nearby.

A fancy and new-lookin home.

Mama cooked sukiyaki for dinner.

After stuffing myself full of sukiyaki, I was balefully accused by Boss of having a small appetite.

Meet Boss and Mama - out to the bee farm in Hyougo prefecture - Mon 14 May

I contacted the Komuros on Monday morning to confirm it would be possible for me to come out for the week to Rokkou Bee Kingdom and apitherapy (bee sting) clinic in Hyougo prefecture. Mr Komuro confirmed, "Australian OK! Come in, come in!" He advised, "Working very hard. The killer bees are here." O....kay. "One, two, OK. Many, problem."

On the train down, the girl opposite spent a good 20 minutes or more picking over her appearance in a large mirror drawn from her bag. Then she had a less image-conscious snooze, a towel draped over a broad hat presumably carried for just this occasion.


Mr Komuro met me at Ashiya station. He refers to himself as "Boss". This took me a while to realise, and for a time I thought we were going to be meeting the big chief of one of the local bee organisations. He refers to his wife as "Mama", which also took me a while to realise, and for a time I thought we'd be meeting his mum as well.

Mama was at the local hospital getting a check-up for her diabetes, which turned out to be going nicely. While we waited for her, Boss took me to a tea shop and bought me a milk tea and two cakes.

Boss is 66, though looks a heck of a lot younger. (Pictures of both in coming posts.) Although my Japanese is strong now and comfortable for conversation, Boss likes to generally try to convey his messages in loose-grammar English interspersed with grammar-free Japanese. He is a benevolent, engaging, opinion-rich alpha male, whose now-retired attention is turned to building up a bee kingdom (never mind that all the workers are female, and the show is run by a queen!)

Mama is 60, addicted to television, and a dedicated carer. She recounts with solemnity the dire goings-on of tabloid news, and sparkles as she tells a yarn. She is a retired show performer and comedian, and hasn't lost her edge.

Now that their kids are grown with families of their own, both dote on their baby Bohgi (think 'Bogey'), a sixteen year old Maltese, now living tooth-free. We drove out to their beachside apartment to collect Bohgi, who tottered out cheerfully with tongue lolling to greet us at the car.

The apartment looks out onto a wedding chapel. Boss informed me that they could watch the motor boats bringing couples out from Osaka's Universal Studios Japan theme park for their weddings.

When they have WWOOFers, the Komuros stay with the WWOOFer in another apartment in Rokkou, which doubles as their apitherapy clinic, and after collecting Bohgi, we headed out there. As we drove, they recounted their "what comes to mind" set for Australia - Sydney, Melbourne, Ayer's Rock, Aborigi, Aussie beef, kangaroos and koalas.

Rokkou is right near Ashiya Mountains, which is Japan's Beverly Hills, complete with satellite security observation and underground electricity pylons. It is the suburb of choice for Japan's famous elite.

I was offered a to sleep in a room with a floor futon, or what now seemed like such a luxury, a single bed. I chose the room with the single bed. It's their clinic room - I sleep where people get therapeutically get stung dozens of times by bees.

We drove out to one of Boss' friend's farms, Ono-san. No, no relation to Yoko Ono, I did ask.

I was introduced to Junko. She also regaled me with her "comes to mind" list about Australia. She advised me that in Japan, the most famous Australian actor is Arnold Schwarzenegger. She demonstrated what was to be my work during my stay - cleaning bee frames of wax, for reuse of the frames.


Mrs Ono was boiling bamboo shoots for eating, using bamboo as a fuel.


I was served delicious raw sliced tuna steak served in cool sake+mirin+soya sauce for dinner. It was delicious and sweet.

Mama spoke after dinner of the Kobe earthquake, which was near to their former home and devastated the area. They mentioned the experience in their WWOOF listing, and it was one of the reasons I chose them as a host. It was gripping listening.

She spoke of how the room went up and down, not side to side. A roof beam fell down where their baby grandson had been sleeping until the previous night. Each aftershock of the quake left them terrified. There was no gas, no electricity, and no water to put out the fires that roared through the devastated homes. Over the next weeks, skewed buildings would occasionally crash to the ground. Sky highways had crashed to the earth, and the train lines were snapped and twisted like candy.

None of their family was killed or injured, but they lost many friends. Their house was flattened by the earthquake, then requisitioned by the government for road use, for little compensation. The survivors were squashed into any school sports halls that were standing. They bathed in metal drums. In three days, they went from pure gratitude for their survival to bickering over the awkwardly cramped conditions and complaining about the food.

Boss and Mama were then in their forties, and participated in a walk for justice, from Kobe all the way to Tokyo. At the heart of their plea was the old folks and people unable to just start again and finance the rebuilding of their homes, who were now living, if they were lucky, in shanty shacks slapped up immediately after the earthquake. They were given the same response - there are too many victims, and not enough funds to support them all.

Gratuitous photos of Kouya-san - Sun 13 May

Because there was so much random beauty in Kouya-san, that I thought Japanophiles might be interested in seeing some of the "so Japan" beauty I snapped between the official sites.

Out past The Garan.


Japan tree, Japan building.


Some natural material steps, near Daimon.


The garden at Reihokan museum/gallery.


Beautiful red foliage - I won't be here for autumn, but here was a mid-spring preview of its colour scheme.

Kouya-san - The Garan, Daimon, Kongobu-ji, and Okuno-in cemetery - Sun 13 May

Take and I were tipped off when paying our accommodation bill that the super-photo-op of kids in costumes was a possibility. We found a thin stream on way, and I snapped these two little princesses in their wonky headdresses at Kongobu-ji temple.



We then trundled off to The Garan, the religious and geographical centre of Kouya-san. There is a cluster of impressive buildings there, including the massive orange Konpondaito pagoda.


Inside is the cosmic buddha and friends. A photo of a picture book, as you can't photograph inside.


No access inside the huge Kondo Hall. Note the scale of the monk in black, bottom left.


Take found a pooch twin on the grounds.


The bell tower was the most beautiful I've seen so far.


We then walked up to Daimon, 'Big Gate'. Bottom left and right are two guard statues.


They be ugly.


We walked to spend an hour or so inside Reihokan Hall, a religious "treasure museum" with statues and paintings, as well as centuries-old scriptures, garments and artifacts. The items were interesting, but the detailed item information and backgrounds was only written in Japanese, and the English would be something along the lines of '[unfamiliar Japanese word] with [unfamiliar Japanese word]'. Without context, they were just pretty things, so not a recommended site to visit for non-Japanese.

Another walk back for a look inside Kongobu-ji temple. They have room after room of exquisitely painted wall-to-wall screen doors with different themes in each room, inspired by nature and by the history of Kouya-san's founder. It's forbidden to photograph them. This one, below, is a broom cupboard in comparison, but photo, OK.

In one of the rooms, according to my guide book, one of the most famous men of Japanese history, warlord and regent Toyotomi Hideyoshi, committed seppuku, or ritual disembowelment. A very interesting discussion of the practice is published on wikipedia, here.

Inside Kongobu-ji temple is a spectacular example of Japanese rock gardens. One angle, below. The guide book hyped up taking tea alongside the garden, but unfortunately, you really don't get to see the garden from the tea room. Naughty guide book.


After lunch, Take and I caught a taxi to Okuno-in, an immense Buddhist graveyard where all the best Buddhists want to hang out when they're dead. You can see why.


This rocket ship grave marker, I could not interpret.


A memorial from a pesticide company to the millions of Japanese white ants (termites) whose murders sit on the company's Buddhist conscience.


I hope you don't find your picture here, amidst Japanese dead Buddhist Guess-Who. "Do they have black hair?" flick, flick, flick, flick, ...


One of the dress-up statues, this one with full makeup, fashion bib and beanie.


In the graveyard is the Miroku-ishi, a small boulder which you try to lift onto a shelf with one hand. The weight is meant to vary according to the sin of the lifter. Embarrassingly, I found it too heavy to lift single handedly. Take is also a bad person.


The faithful ladle water over these statues as an offering to the dead.


No photography was permitted inside the Tourou-dou, or Great Lantern Hall (an inside picture). Its ceilings were covered by dimly glowing lanterns, the sense of stillness strengthened by a single monk chanting without rest. Below is my blurry photograph of a book photograph - second best option.


Beneath the Tourou-dou is a subterranean miniature statue hall, with over 50,000 statues of Kouya-san's founders in racks, each numbered and named for the donor.

An old man outside in a souvenir stall confirmed that we'd seen all there was to see. He had five gold front teeth, and was very friendly.

Kath Day-Night would kill for this woman's strawberry-themed cardigan suit. Worth a click for closer inspection. Take advised that photographs like this were the reason I couldn't lift the Miroku-ishi boulder.


On the way out of the cemetery is this enormous mountain of jizo statues.


We bought some of Kouya-san's specialty food, sesame tofu, as a gift for Take's mum, before heading back to Wakayama. On the bus, we spotted Sally, the lovely Aussie who'd been living in Kyoto for ten years, that I first met over morning tea at the temple lodgings. Take seemed to have a much easier time understanding her English than mine. Maybe Auntie Bill has been right after all, about my speaking being hard to hear.

From the bus, we all hopped on the cable car for the descent.


While waiting for our connection at Hashimoto, Take told me of the frustration he'd had in Sydney trying to order a VB at pubs, which, with the Japanese, accent, comes out something like "Bui-bii." After the umpteenth "What?" he would say to himself, "I'm bloody saying VB!"「ブイビーって言ってやろっ！」

Back in Wakayama, we headed out for Japan's version of Indian. This was the biggest, bubbliest naan bread I've ever seen.