Aboard with Captain Matsunaga

Hello all.

It is just after lunch and I feel a bit lethargic, so please excuse any incoherent rambling, grammatical mistakes and the like. I have actually been enjoying lunch lately. Since I started work at the Akune Board of Education (BOE) I have taken a short walk or bike ride back to my apartment everyday for lunch, either to heat up some leftovers or to whip up a quick meal. I did this for a few reasons: it is always nice to get out of the office; I like cooking; I enjoy the wind in my face, aside from that one experiences when wheeling around one’s work space in an office chair; and I didn’t feel quite comfortable stuffing my face in front of my co-workers (usually I enjoy my meals with proper manners, but after five hours of not eating I do, at times, loose sight of my etiquette). There were definitely drawbacks to going back and forth from the BOE to my apartment everyday, though. Of course time is was factor, but the more than anything else I could not stand the heat anymore. The combination of racing back to my apartment to satiate my hunger and sluggishly lurching back to the BOE in the dank heat of the afternoon left me in a state of utter exhaustion, and with the humidity that has been around 70-90% or more, I was damp with perspiration. Then I had a revelation. It came in the form of bento.

The bento culture in Japan is unparalleled. (Sorry Mom, your packed lunches were fabulous and nutritious, but they don’t quite measure up to the aesthetic, gastronomic beauty of the bento) There are volumes on the subject and I have even read an essay or two during my stay at Ritsumeikan. The bento is, like any lunch can be, a symbol of a mother’s love for their child. On the other hand, what set this lunch item apart from the rest is that the bento can also serve as a very telling aspect of a family’s makeup and functionality, the door left ajar through which one can see if mom does her shopping regularly or if dad lost his job recently. In other aspects, the bento can be seen as a microcosm of a Japanese child’s likes and dislikes. If a child cracks open their bento to find a ground beef patty with ground daikon shavings on top or curry rice the day is a golden one. On the other hand, it is common knowledge in Japan that Japanese children, for the most part, cannot stand and absolutely condemn green bell peppers, known to the British as capsicums-what’s next alumminium?- and in Japanese, ピーマン (pronounced pee-mahn). Despite this well-known hatred, children often find the loathed vegetable in their lunch box, the stench and sight of it putting a damper on their whole day. Now that is what I call love, food culture and anthropology (conveniently packed in a bento with a cute design on the top).

In the past couple of days I have been very happy with my bento. I eat in the centre of my office on the big comfortable leather sofa, stare at the lush mountains and receive copious complements (from the women) and looks of utter disbelief (from the men and women) from my co-workers. Today was a good bento day: grilled salmon; kimchi; broccoli; and a special bottom layer of rice cooked with Satsuma sweet potatoes. I was still a bit uncomfortable, though; kimchi has an odor not to be reckoned with. Maybe next week I will try making designs in my rice with different coloured pickles, I saw it once in a cartoon and the kids were stunned with jealousy.

After eating my bento yesterday, I was approached by one of the first acquaintances I made in Akune, Captain Matsunaga. Perhaps you may recall the name Captain Matsunaga (referred to below as, the Captain) from the Midokoi Matsuri, the one who took me under his wing of brotherhood and booze and showed me how to party like a real citizen of Akune. (I would find out later that day that the Captain himself founded the Midokoi Matsuri, which explains his enthusiasm, justly) The Captain was eager to tell me that he had someone he wanted to introduce me to. He said that one of his best friends in Akune is deeply involved in ceramics (陶芸, tougei or 焼き物 yakimono) and that he wanted to show me his friends studio.
“So, what time are you done here anyway?” the Captain asked.
“About four-fifteen, why?” I said.
“Come down to my office, I’ll take you to meet him, it’ll be great. By the way, do you have a map?”
I pulled out the Akune road map that I had been using to map out my commute for the upcoming year.
“Here, in the mountains, you see? There aren’t any roads listed, but that’s where he lives. He stays in an old elementary school.”
“I look forward to it. See you in a bit“, I said as I bowed to the Captain. I was excited. I could barely sit out the rest (30 minutes) of my day, thinking about where this school might be and what else, if anything the Captain had in store.

About an eighteen minute ride south and east of the BOE, half of which took us on roads barely wide enough for his Japanese compact, brought the Captain and I into the midst of lush bamboo and pine forests. According to Captain Matsunaga, the hills that he and I were driving through used to be laden with houses and busy with villagers of southern Akune. Then around the 1950’s the distance away from the city, and possibly the lack of water and electricity I’m guessing, led to a massive exodus from the hills and into the more urban, if you will, parts of town.
“It’s a ghost village now”, cackled Captain Matsunaga, his cigarette shaking between his teeth.
‘I really like this guy’, I thought.
A couple of quick turns later and I found myself in the parking lot of what used to be an elementary school. Shiso leaves were growing everywhere, two cute dogs were barking and a quaint, seemingly empty school stood to the left, the rushing river too profound to be just a white noise. A giant tree claimed a prominent position in the centre of the plot. Unfortunately, the resident of the old school was away at the time, but the Captain insisted that I poke my head inside to take a look; I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Miniscule chairs lined the walls and equally small desks were pushed together in the centre of the main room, recently trimmed bowls and cups lay on the floor in precise rows and before stepping down from the schools entry way I saw, in the back of what I realized was an amazing potter’s studio, huge racks of fired pieces and finished products. Adjacent to the main building was a covered area under which two huge outdoor kilns had been built from the ground up. Having already seen the inside of the studio, the sight of these incredibly unique kilns brought me back to my days at Summit K-12 (for life) in Karen’s studio, throwing pots till my blue and yellow (Summit colours) Adidas were covered in clay. I was awe inspired by where the Captain had taken me and what he had introduced me to.
“This is outstanding”, I said looking around before getting back into the car.
“Oh yeah? My house is pretty great too, you know. It’s a dome house. You ever heard of one of those? (I shrug and smile) I built it with my own two hands. Let’s go!” Go with the flow.

Readers, who ever and how many you are, Captain Matsunaga’s house is unbelievable; everything a dome house should be and nothing you could have ever possibly conceived. The high ceilings of the dome was a feature I was drawn to and it was something I had been really been missing. The triangular skylights, another unique feature that accommodated to the geometrical design of the house, reminded a lot of my house in Seattle and, coincidentally, one my favourite spots on the planet, Jody’s cabin in Hood Canal, built by the man himself. When I was introduced to the Captain’s wife she excused herself first to wash her hands. No, this is not another Japanese custom. She had just finished making a batch of fresh honey. What? The Captain took me out back and showed me the two bee hives that he and his wife use to harvest. He told me about Japanese honey bees. The main differences, he said was that Japanese honey bees are, for one, very obedient and do not require to be smoked out of their hives in order for the harvester to extract the honeycomb (I had seen this once at Vashon Island with my good old friend Andrew). Moreover, and more interesting in my opinion, is that Japanese honey bees do not collect nectar from one flower exclusively. Rather, they collect from many flowers all around the area, collecting different flavours and, apparently creating a tantalizingly potent batch of very healthy honey, known as ‘hundred flower honey’, 百花蜜 (kyakkamitsu).

As I sat in the cavernous living room of the Captains dome house, I conversed with he and his very charming wife about travel, language, my future and other worldly matters. All the while I was fed peaches, amazing bean curd desserts and coffee with a spoonful of the best honey I have ever tasted. Now when I order coffee, I usually only drink half of what I ordered, or I just sip off of whoever just bought one (thank you Chloe and Laura). This was not the case yesterday. I was poured cup, after cup, after cup of coffee almost unknowingly. I supposed that if this is way Captain Matsunaga takes a coffee break, than I might indulge as well. When I stepped outside of the dome house to a beautiful sunset the caffeine boost from nearly a half kettle of coffee kicked in and this Japanese proverb came to mind:

郷に入ったら、郷に従う。 When in Rome, do as the Romans do.