AM
Least: Pretty close to 8:50am, I cut an equator around a too-large peach that I bought from a street seller a couple of days ago. Despite twisting firmly, the greenish flesh refused to part from the stone. The most disappointing aspect of this particular peach was that its complexion was perfect - not a scar nor a browning hollow - but its insides were watery and tart. The Japanese art of overpackaging is rife amongst supermarket fruits - particularly peaches. The foamish coverings give the impression that they are protecting something excellent, however it it merely make-up - mutton dressed as lamb. For a few thousand yen, you can buy your boss a box of twelve as part of the summer gifting process - I wouldn't bother.
Most: I rose this morning at about 8:20am with a strong urge to open Truman Capote's In Cold Blood and keep reading. There were simply not enough waking hours last night to complete it. The incredible clarity of the writing and the rhythm that switches between the victims and the criminals gives reading it movie like momentum. Over the years, I've picked the book up and never bothered to buy it, but the ten dollar Popular Penguin was too good an offer to refuse. I've no doubt that I will finish it by the end of PM tonight.
PM
Least: Sometime close to 4:00pm, the dread of going back to ECC drone-hood began bothering me. As dreads go, it's a pretty bland version - no preparation and not much mystery. In my attempt to make today drag on, I tried to make the least of my time today to little avail. I extended the cover of my sunburn through.
大きな地図で見る
Most: Just after 12:20pm, Rosie and I wheeled down to Namba for a bite. Instead of taking the increasingly uninteresting routes previously describe in this blog, we opted for some almost randomly chosen streets. Our bikes took us through the surprisingly hilly and windy area just north of Tezukayama and down through Tengachaya's less trafficked roads. What we saw was almost like another city with a completely different atmosphere. There were lots of people sitting around in the heat, old men wearing kimono-like duds, baffling small businesses, and the rubbery smell of bicycle recycling. For some reason it reminded us of Vietnam.
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Food note: At the Conveyor Sushi trough that we often haunt, a young girl and her Grandfather shared their sushi. As usual, the Grandfather spent much of his time scraping wasabi paste from otherwise delicious dishes. The most touching moment though, was when they shared a generous piece of whale bacon - the little girl ate the meat, the Grandfather chewed the fat. Nice.
