Take it back?!

The crowds have been getting to me lately... I'm angry for no reason. I'm sick of the drunk サラリーマン and their female counterparts. On the train I find myself fighting the urge to push people that have innocently bumped into me because the driver hit the brakes too hard or because the train hit that curve that only I seem to know about...

I'm not really homesick, per se, but there are definitely things that I miss. A couple days ago I bought a bottle of my favorite wine. It was on sale and I had had a particularly boring day at work. When I opened it, though, it tasted absolutely horrible. It was as if something had died inside. I had S. taste it, too--just to make sure that it wasn't a sign that my taste buds had gone bad. When I said something about taking it back to the store, he looked at me like I had just sprouted another head. Take it back? Take it back?! This is apparently unheard of in Japan. He was actually shocked when I told him that I used to do it all that time. [For good reason, of course. Like that entire 12-pack of Coke that was just defective enough so that the tab would fly off instead of opening the can... Of course, a few cans I opened with a butter knife, but the Kash N' Karry allowed me to exchange the remaining cans just the same.] Maybe I'm crazy, but I think there's something a little off about a country that doesn't allow you to return defective merchandise. And trust me, when your wine tastes like something died in it, it's defective!!

Kyoto, take 4

My hairdresser told me about a temple in Kyoto where you make wishes to a, "Strange Buddha," [her words, not mine] and, somehow, the wishes come true. This temple was also full of bugs. To be exact, it was full of some kind of bug that sounded like a cricket.

I decided that I want to see this temple where the monks take care of bugs and I can make a wish to a strange buddha. To tell you the truth, I don't know why I had never noticed the temple before. It is on the bus map, after all, and it does have a picture of a bug--instead of the usual picture of some kind of temple. You'd think it would stand out!

S. and I got on a bus and made our way out to the bug temple, called Suzumushidera for those in the know. ["Suzumushi" being the type of bug, and "dera" meaning temple] As usual with us, we were running a little late. The temple closed at 4:30 and it was 4:10 when we got off the bus and started the ascent up the mountain. [Well, hill, really, but with my Florida legs, the damn thing was a mountain!] For most of the hike I was really missing B. and her readiness to take a taxi! That, and I was seriously hoping we'd make it in time so I could use the bathroom! So many cabs passed, but S. just kept on going...

At, what I assumed to be, 4:29 we got to the gate, but before I could find out where the toilet was, we were ushered into a large room full of low tables with cups of tea and small, wrapped sweets at each of the seats. I didn't know what was going on, so I just followed S. as he sat down at one of the spots at the table.

There were four aquarium cages at the front of the room under some air conditioners. A bald monk came out of an adjoining room and turned on a microphone that was hooked onto his robe. And then he started to talk... He went on for at least twenty minutes. The only things I understood were, "...about 4,000," [I assumed he was talking about the bugs in the aquariums] and, "...Golden Week..." He would giggle a little here and there, and the people around me would giggle along with him. [Except for the couple in front of me. They were as bored as I was--and they could understand him!] Even though I really had to pee, I drank my tea, mostly because everyone else was. The sweets were not that sweet and I only finished it because I thought I'd feel a little bad if I left it. That, and there was nothing else to do.

Finally the monk finished. People started getting up. I went to find the toilet.

As we were walking through the gardens, S. told me what the monk had been saying. Apparently he was kind of scolding everyone for treating Kyoto like a sightseeing place. He was saying that people go into the temples and take their pictures and forget that they're in holy places. But he was scolding in such a way that the people were able to think, Oh, well he's not talking about me! I don't do that!

When we left we saw the strange buddha. He didn't look that strange to me. True, he was wearing shoes, but other than that, he was just a regular stone buddha. When we prayed to him, we had to tell him our name and address and then our wish. He would then come to our houses and grant our wishes. [Hence the shoes, and therefore the strangeness] But my wish had to do with America. And I got a good look at those shoes. I don't think he's going to make it there... Not in those raggedy things at least.