weeeeeeeeeeeeee!
Here on Kaminomine Bichi, on Tokunoshima Island (some 20 hours by ferry from mainland) I am drawn to write. I finished work early today and took the opportunity to go for a nice bike ride to the beach. Biking on the country roads singing aloud along with the tunes on my ipod, Ｉ meet the gawking eyes of children fresh out of school with silly faces and correctly pronounced "konichiwa!"'s. This beach is a special beach. It is accessed by a long dirt road that comes equipped with two killer dogs ready to tear flesh at a moments notice with their killer jaws. Every time I come here I try to think of new ways to outwit them and pass unscathed. Today I thought I could soundlessly creep by, ready to bolt if the time came. I was wrong-as if they could smell my cockiness-they were waiting for me. I zoomed past them, but not without bellowing a primal scream that fueled my escape to the beach. Ah, yes, living on the edge-what a great cardiovascular workout.
Finally on the beach. No one is here, or ever is, except for the lone fisherman wading out in the shallow water along the reef. I walk along the water on a wide white band of coral, hearing it sing under my feet like the dirty dishes of the Mad Dutchess (and if you can tell me where that reference is from, ill send you a prize). My favorite spot is some 20 minutes from where I left my bike. It allows me enough time to meander though the tide pools in the seaweed-covered reef, and investigate the spotted, spikey, and slimey things, as I listen to the snap, crackle, and pop of the exposed shellfish reluctantly handing over their beloved sea water to the thirsty sun.
Where the hell am I? I ask myself this question often. I can accurately point out on a map the pimple of land Im sitting on, but no matter how many hours I spend staring at the sea, I cannot SENSE my displacement on the globe as one can sense from the popping of their ears that they are moving underground on the LIRR from Jamaica, Queens bound for Penn Station. And at this point in my inner dialogue, I usually settle for the answer "I am here, wherever I am."
And just what have I been doing here? Im glad you asked. I am staying with a jolly woman named Noriko. We enjoy cooking for each other and exchanging language lessons. Every Monday evening, in the dining room of her home, I lead an English class for four lovely ladies. They are in their 50s and 60s, and are eager to learn
English. As one woman put it, "I want to keep my mind active so I dont go senile." Their favorite phrase to use in class whenever they draw a blank is "I am having a senior moment." Cute. By day I work with Mr. and Mrs. Azuma on their carrot and sugar cane farms. Azuma-san and I also exchange language lessons on the field. When the weather is nice he will bring his Shamisen-a 3-stringed traditional Japanese instrument close to the banjo-and sing me old folk songs from Okinawa. Three days a week we are joined by four ladies, each steadily climbing into their late 80s. They speak a native island dialect unique to Tokunoshima, and not a lick of Japanese. We work rain or shine, and its usually raining. Im out there in my white rubber boots and rain suit trying to stay relatively clean, and the ladies are practically rolling in the mud. When we convene at tea-time and lunch, they love to giggle at me with their shining gums, occasionally punctuated by a gnarly chunk of enamel-the trophies of their remaining youth. It is not uncommon for people their age to be working. They grow 'em old here, averaging in the high 90s and up when they pass on. In fact, the oldest man to ever live lived up the road from my house (everywhere is up the road). On his final day he was clocked at an impressive 120 years and 237 days.
My days are filled with laughter. Second only to bullfighting, laughing is this island's favorite pastime. Life is slow and easy. Dont get me wrong, I break a sweat everyday, bit its always paired with tea and snacks. Tea-Time is the best part of the day...
With sugar cane being this island's major crop, there is an abundance of sweetness. They produce "black sugar" which is raw, unrefined dark brown sugar that is pressed into thick sheets and then crumbled in bags to sell on the mainland. Apparently it contains many minerals. People eat it raw throughout the day and use it liberally in their cooking. Mmm. And here I am thinking this is as sweet as life gets - with unlimited 'cane, giggling elders, live folk music on the farm...but then again life is full of surprises.
Being here (wherever that is) is like laying back in the hammock of IS-ness, swaying to the breath of God.
pictures come soon…
Love and Light.
Finally on the beach. No one is here, or ever is, except for the lone fisherman wading out in the shallow water along the reef. I walk along the water on a wide white band of coral, hearing it sing under my feet like the dirty dishes of the Mad Dutchess (and if you can tell me where that reference is from, ill send you a prize). My favorite spot is some 20 minutes from where I left my bike. It allows me enough time to meander though the tide pools in the seaweed-covered reef, and investigate the spotted, spikey, and slimey things, as I listen to the snap, crackle, and pop of the exposed shellfish reluctantly handing over their beloved sea water to the thirsty sun.
Where the hell am I? I ask myself this question often. I can accurately point out on a map the pimple of land Im sitting on, but no matter how many hours I spend staring at the sea, I cannot SENSE my displacement on the globe as one can sense from the popping of their ears that they are moving underground on the LIRR from Jamaica, Queens bound for Penn Station. And at this point in my inner dialogue, I usually settle for the answer "I am here, wherever I am."
And just what have I been doing here? Im glad you asked. I am staying with a jolly woman named Noriko. We enjoy cooking for each other and exchanging language lessons. Every Monday evening, in the dining room of her home, I lead an English class for four lovely ladies. They are in their 50s and 60s, and are eager to learn
English. As one woman put it, "I want to keep my mind active so I dont go senile." Their favorite phrase to use in class whenever they draw a blank is "I am having a senior moment." Cute. By day I work with Mr. and Mrs. Azuma on their carrot and sugar cane farms. Azuma-san and I also exchange language lessons on the field. When the weather is nice he will bring his Shamisen-a 3-stringed traditional Japanese instrument close to the banjo-and sing me old folk songs from Okinawa. Three days a week we are joined by four ladies, each steadily climbing into their late 80s. They speak a native island dialect unique to Tokunoshima, and not a lick of Japanese. We work rain or shine, and its usually raining. Im out there in my white rubber boots and rain suit trying to stay relatively clean, and the ladies are practically rolling in the mud. When we convene at tea-time and lunch, they love to giggle at me with their shining gums, occasionally punctuated by a gnarly chunk of enamel-the trophies of their remaining youth. It is not uncommon for people their age to be working. They grow 'em old here, averaging in the high 90s and up when they pass on. In fact, the oldest man to ever live lived up the road from my house (everywhere is up the road). On his final day he was clocked at an impressive 120 years and 237 days.
My days are filled with laughter. Second only to bullfighting, laughing is this island's favorite pastime. Life is slow and easy. Dont get me wrong, I break a sweat everyday, bit its always paired with tea and snacks. Tea-Time is the best part of the day...
With sugar cane being this island's major crop, there is an abundance of sweetness. They produce "black sugar" which is raw, unrefined dark brown sugar that is pressed into thick sheets and then crumbled in bags to sell on the mainland. Apparently it contains many minerals. People eat it raw throughout the day and use it liberally in their cooking. Mmm. And here I am thinking this is as sweet as life gets - with unlimited 'cane, giggling elders, live folk music on the farm...but then again life is full of surprises.
Being here (wherever that is) is like laying back in the hammock of IS-ness, swaying to the breath of God.
pictures come soon…
Love and Light.
posted by Cory at 6:28 PM
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