21 July 08

It was rather lovely waking up next to Emily. She was on a futon between ours, and made it through to about 5am before she stirred. I can see the attraction for those who do have their baby in bed with them, and it's easier wth futons.


We took her down to breakfast with us as there was no way she was going to nap, and when we got to our table we found that they'd made up an impromptu sort of bed for her by pushing two wicker chairs together and padding it with towels. So thoughtful, and it made it easier for us to eat as she could sit up in there unaided. We had lots of little dishes, mostly savoury, and even a miniature stove each to cook our own omlette on. As always Emily showed a lot of interest in what we were eating and tried my yogurt and a boysenberry. She wasn't impressed with a strip of seaweed though. Our table was in the window of the dining room and had a great panoramic view of the garden and river.

After checking out we walked up through town in the hot sunshine for a kilometre to the cable station that whisks you up to Mount Hodo.

It's only about 700 metres high but on a good day it has fine views. Today was too hazy to see much but we enjoyed the short ride up in the 1950s car. At the top (wooded, as most of Japans hills are), there were lots of plum trees that must look fantastic in springtime. Everywhere there was a soundtrack of cicadas chirruping. I thought I saw one but it was just an empty skin that had been shed on a leaf. We walked back down the mountainside to the town; the track was very quiet and tranquil, with lots of butterflies and wild flowers.

In need of shelter and cool air we dived into a little family noodle restaurant and ordered homemade soba noodles with mountain vegetables. Very tasty. We tarried a while so that we could give Emily her lunch, an extremely bland dried cod and vegetable mixture. Waiting for our train back it was unbelievably hot, yet I saw a woman wearing thick black elbow gloves. It is common to see ladies wearing these to keep their arms white, but these were exceptionally thick and it made me shudder to think of wearing such a thing. We were surprised to only see a handful of gaijin in such a lovely place, but then Nagatoro isn't in the guide books, amazingly. It's funny how I feel put out whenever I see a foreigner, as if they don't have as much right to be there as I do.

On the train, I observed a particularly good example of the Japanese love affair with all things Western: a young guy had a key fob that said 'Bump of Chicken'. What is that about?! They like to have seemingly random English writing on their clothes. People's T-shirts often have a string of words that make no sense at all. I shall have to note some of the odder ones.