Quite amazing really.

The good mood seems to be holding.

It has been a hectic week. One filled with old friends, both in their physical and not so physical forms. I hadn't realized how much I had missed them.

And this.

Silly me. I thought I was happier within my cave.

I'm making a video for my father, since I've given up on the notion that he might come visit us.

Fleeting images of my commute to and from the design studio in Nagoya; miles and miles of cerulean blue ceramic tiled roofs on rotting metal structures, interrupted every few seconds by a rice paddy. The horse track at Kasamatsu, and the men who crowd onto the train after a race still clutching their forms and their dreams and stinking of last drags of cigarettes and lost wages. Clark asked me if the economy here is really as bad as the papers say...perhaps this is an indication. Perhaps not. Three years ago, this was very much a cash culture. Now, I often find myself stuck at checkout lines behind people who are learning how to use a credit card for the first time.

Indications are everywhere.

Gaggles of girls in their platform boots and micro mini skirts stand and shiver in the aisles of the train. It's below zero, but fashion dictates this madness. I pull my own coat and scarf tighter around me and wonder if I was ever that young.

A phone rings and everyone begins rummaging in their purses and pockets. I'm glad I have a wide angle lens and caught that. He probably wouldn't believe it otherwise. The shops in my area are giving pagers and phones away for free in hopes that you will sign up for the actual phone line through their shop, thus guaranteeing them the commission.

The woman for whom the bell actually tolled is quite a piece of work. She is probably in her early fifties, but has opted against aging gracefully.

I have seen light blue- and lavender-haired "ladies who lunch" on my native soil, but the green and dark purple shades that are popular with older women here still take me by surprise. This woman has gone with a forest green, but only at the front and sides...the back remains black. Expensive clothes and expensive jewels, all lacking any semblance of taste. Her phone is obviously not one of the freebies; it is in a shade of green which matches her hair too closely to not be specially ordered. Her nails sparkle as she grips her toy.

She speaks loudly, and disdainfully, to someone who she refers to in the diminutive. I think at first there is a child on the other end of the line (she looks like the sort to talk down to children and pinch their cheeks) but after telling them how to heat up the food in question, she remarks "we'll drink beer when I get there!" and hangs up.

I can't decide whether to add an explanatory over-dub to the video or leave the ambient noise as is. I rarely narrate; the camera is small and people tend to ignore me when I'm filming, but somehow I think talking to myself would attract more attention.

I silently thank the woman for adding a touch of color to my video and turn my lens towards the front of the train. This is possibly my favorite shot. I love to lean out into the aisle on an almost empty train and film through the glass doors of each car as it twists and snakes its way home. Here and there, a passenger makes their presence known with a dangling arm or a sleeping, bobbing head.

I have a great photo of my friend Alex feigning sleep on a similar train ride. He is off center; the focal point of the shot is the long, almost uninterrupted aisle.

We are nearly at my tiny local stop. I usually go one stop further, to the city center, and walk back to my house. Along the way, I window shop and pick up groceries. Today, for the sake of the video, I'm taking the short route. Our station is so small that there is no ticket collector. Instead, you walk down the length of the train from which you have disembarked and give your ticket to its conductor. He smiles for my camera, and I thank him. I fleetingly imagine my dad getting a kick out of me speaking the language.

He's always telling me how proud he is of how far I've gone out into the world. Of how well I've learned to communicate. I constantly tell him that I'm far from fluent, and still highly dependent on others, but he doesn't seem to believe me.

Oh well, I suppose pride is a parent's prerogative.

My walk home is not as brisk as usual, as I'm trying to hold the camera steady. I'm glad I opted for the closer stop because it feels like snow is imminent. There is none on the ground, but it is definitely below zero and the clouds are low. I pan over the row of ancient houses, wondering how they would survive an earthquake. I'm sure my dad will wonder the same thing. This area hasn't had a major quake in my lifetime, and the experts debate over whether or not we are overdue. I have reached my block and I am certain he will be relieved to see our house is much newer. I, however, know better. The structure may be newer, but the house itself was built by a carpenter for himself and his family. The materials were left over from other jobs and it is an insane jumble of mismatched surfaces and oddly shaped rooms. I'm not complaining, the oddness suits us. Our own little Winchester Mystery house. Perhaps tomorrow I will add some footage of the house's interior so he can see how bizarre it really is.

Shooting this video has made me focus on the things I take for granted on my daily movements through this world. How many people enjoy their commute as much as I do? I rarely bury my nose in a book...other people are too fascinating, especially when they are being gloriously, typically, mad.

siempre,

Shy