Forgotten parasol

Hanging parasol
Forgotten with kiwi vines
Afternoon arbor

Fall Equinox

The autumn equinox at sunrise

and the summer solstic sunrise


photos made easy by sleeping on the rooftop.
The precession of the equinoxes joined, too, by dedicated digital camera (canon powershop A590) which was preceded by a cell phone camera (Vodafone 802SE).

Mt. Hiei is the tallest in the range of eastern Kyoto at 848.1 metres (2,782 ft).

Brain glue

Lunch in the garden of a restaurant in a Kyoto temple, Daitoku-ji. Something rectangular, deep fried, served on sticks like long thick pine needles.

“What is it?”

The Zen vegetarian waitress returns. “Gu ru ten.”

I expect a Japanese word, and the conversational part of my brain won’t compute. But quietly I see another part of my brain spelling out “gluten”.

She tries another word. “Fu.”

“Barley? Rice?”

“No,” she answers clearly. “Ofu.”

This is definitely a Japanese word and I can remember a few hours.

At home, I consult Japanese dictionaries without success.

But “vegetarian zen” search of the internet brings up “wheat gluten,” “macrobiotic,” “fu (not to be found in Japanese dictionaries),” and so forth. Success.

By the way, the three sticks of gluten sustained me well past my usual dinner time.

Jazz in Japan

A duo perform jazz on September 5 in Kyoto. Above the restaurant, the proprietor has a third floor music room. A dozen folding chairs are set up. Armadillo guitars hang on the wall; lessons take place once a week.

Today, the musicians are a female Japanese vocalist and a male guitarist.

The singer explains in Japanese the two meanings of MEAN in “Mean to Me.”
“You're mean to me…
You shouldn't, for can't you see
What you mean to me.”

For another tune, she first explains that there are three sets of answers “Whatever will be, will be” in “Que Sera, Sera.”

A guest singer from the audience belts out Route 66, later asking my opinion of her pronunciation. The pronunciation and swing beat were great, and I would have liked to extend my compliment by saying that we Americans often riddle ourselves with the lyrics.

“Well it goes through St. Louis, Joplin, Missouri.
Oklahoma City looks mighty pretty.
See Amarillo, Gallup, New Mexico.
Flagstaff Arizona, don't forget Winona.
Kingman, Barstow, San Bernardino….”

Encore request. “Got any more Billie Holiday?”
The vocalist calls out chords—in English—to the guitarist. They play an inspired, “Lover man, where can you be?”