Bogies at Nine O'Clock

Saturday 12 September 2009

AM

Least: Just after 9:30am, I boarded the JR Rapid at Mikunigaoka and sat in a seat reserved for people with ailments. This particular seat is at the rear of the carriage and is located directly above the bogies that roll the train to Wakayama. I have a faint memory of my Grandfather saying that you should never sit atop the train wheels because the ride is too rough. My half-hour experience between Mikunigaoka and Hineno proved this theory correct. I felt every bend, join and undulation of the train track, which at a glance looks futuristically smooth. As the train lurched incessantly, I was reminded of my sore neck and by the end of the trip its weakness had turned me into some kind of bobblehead. Thankfully I didn't experience nausea, despite the wild ride and the faintish smell of the toilets.

Most: At close to 8:10am, I peered out my kitchen window to see a filthy and wet pidgeon attempting to preen itself. The wetness of the pigeon told me that it was or had been raining outside. August seemed to be particularly dry and I was hoping for rain to wash summer down the drain. This morning, a constant drizzle freshened the streets, trees and gardens. Nearly an hour later, walking toward the station, I could actually smell the pine-ish fragrance of the gardens that grace the yards of the stinking rich. I also thought that the rain wold keep some of the Wakayama day-trippers off my morning train and free up some seats (see above). Thankfully, the day-trippers stayed home and I got to sit down.

PM

Least: Sometime after 5:37pm as my train left Wakayama station, I witnessed the ruthless musical chairs of the Kishuji Rapid. Because people are so desparate to sit alone, whenever a seat becomes available there is an undignified scramble to fill it. As people left the train at both Musota and Kii stations, people jumped to their feet to escape the horror of sitting next to another human being. The disappointment on people's faces when they just missed their chance at happiness was all too apparent and some of them had to return to their seats - the horror, the horror. I suppose it is forgivable given that personal in Japan is as such a premium but I'm sure that it doesn't need to be so cut-throat.

Most: Pretty close to 8:30pm, I walked into T's kitchen to relieve the agony of my hunger. After inhaling some doteyaki, octopus and several small glasses of beer, I came to the conclusion that I needed something more. A few days ago a student told me about the autumn culinary delight sanma, which is a longish silver fish a lot like a sardine which is grilled whole. T's Kitchen had one waiting for me. I pointed to the dead fish through the window of the counter and watched it grill. The final result was a very simple dish with some grated daikon and a cumquat. It was delicious and was not encumbered by the smaller bones which were edible. After my mauling, all that was left was the a cartoonish plate with the head, some stomach contents and a spine remaining. My next challenge will be to recreate the fishy experience at home in our fishgrill. Thanks T.