What a day! (Friday) My bike had a flat on the way to the train station. I parked it behind a barber shop and prayed no one would take it or... do something incredibly inconvenient for me... like turn it in to the police station or something. Already running a bit late, I ran to the train (a good 10 min.) and just made it, sweating pouring from every pour of my body. grins I wonder what the Japanese people thought of this strange, flushed gaijin (foreigner). :) And I got to the Kindergarten in time. Whew! I walked in the door, stood around and distracted any child who happened to be wandering the hall, and promptly found out from a teacher that my K classes went on a field trip... Oh well. haha Asi es la vida. So... what next? Lunch, of course! Hunger struck. I was going to walk to a little park by a small river - creek size, really, except more of a "manecured" creek... the banks being flat blocks of grey quartz, perfectly cut, perfectly square... the creek-bends geometric in shape. Anyway, so I was going to walk to this park that I've walked past, or ridden my bike past on several occasions, but my feet were killing me from running to the train station in shoes that weren't meant to be run in. I figured I'd punished them enough - my feet - so I headed in the direction of what looked to me to be a park. heh heh Nope. A cementary. oops. Timid and disappointed, I started walking away, and then decided - well, no one's around, so why don't I just go to an inconspicuous back corner, eat, take pictures (I'd been wanting to take some pictures of their cementaries. Perhaps a morbid fascination, but I was curious.), read, and journal. Cementaries are typically peaceful places; people seldom visit, not a whole lot of traffic, nice and quiet - a welcome contrast from the craziness of the morning. And although I didn't want to abuse the stereotype that foreigners-are-strange-so-their-strange-behavior-is-somewhat-excusable (should anyone see me there) attitude that most Japanese tend to allot foreigners, there are times when it comes in handy. Like when my feet are killing and I'm hungry and I don't want to walk anywhere else. And so, I found myself killing time till my 3:15 class, surrounded by cremated people with huge black polished quartz monuments that had lines of chiselled kanji I can never hope to read, my tummy full on pickled ginger, onigiri, inori, and cold rice noodles with crunchy vegetable-looking things, experimenting with my camera (some of the results of which you can now view), and underlining and writing in the margins of David Dark's book, Everyday Apocalypse (I've only just begun to read it, but from what I've read I highly recommend it.).
Classes went well. The kids are hyper and I love them.
It was pouring as I took the train and bus home (not walking 40 min back to my apt. from the station), I walked in the door, changed into sneakers, and went to reclaim my recalcitrant bike. Thankfully, it was almost where I left it. Close enough.
My adventures came to an end at 10 pm... and there was much rejoicing. grins
So, a day in the life of Rachel D Schumacher. And what a day it was.
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