虹

今日、実家を出て駅に向かう途中、虹が出ていた。半円をしっかり描いて、優等生な虹。
思わず、母に電話で知らせて、急いで携帯で、写真を撮った。
小学生の子が学校から戻って、
「おばあちゃん！虹」
って叫んで、そのおばあちゃんが家から出て来た。

「あら、虹。XXさんに教えてあげなきゃ。」
そういって、家に、また戻っていった。
私が写真を撮っていると、通り過ぎて行く人が、何となく空を見上げて、虹に気づく。
どこからか、また、人が出てくる。
「奇麗ですね〜。」って見知らぬ人達と空を共有した。
駅前でも、誰かが写真を撮っていて、何だろうって、振り返ってみんな空を見上げる。
空を見上げている人を見て、また、通りすぎて行く人が空を見上げる。
信号待ちをしていた人達も、みんな空を見上げてた。
何だか、みんな可愛かった。
こういう、押しつけがましくない、共有感、好きだ。

東京であんな奇麗な虹を見たのは、いつぶりだろう。

ほっこり幸せな気分になった。

I planted my seed-Natane for Fukushima.

I planted rapeseeds in a garden at my mother's house in Yamanashi.
Scientifically, It proves that radioactive materials like cesium-137 and strontium-90 will be removed from the contaminated soils by growing rapeseeds. They accumulate those radioactive materials in the seeds or the stalks, yet those materials can't be contaminated in extracting oils from the seeds.  After hearing this fantastic story and, more importantly,  with the fact that my name literally means the rapeseed, I said to myself,  "All right then, This is a must action! "

First, I tried in a small land.  And I will do more in October.  I'd never had done farming or anything like this, so I am not sure if my attempt will have a success.  Next Spring, when the time comes, I will collect the seeds and donate them to Fukushima. So I shall see!

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Peace on the Earth

Kanazawa

As the late summer vacation, I visited Kanazawa with my mother and this was a trip down her memory lane. She was born and brought up in Kanazawa till her whole family moved to Tokyo　at her age of seven. Then, when she was nineteen-year-old, she ran away from home and she boaded at Goriya, one of the high-class Japanese restaurants in Kanazawa. There, working at men's clothing store, she was given a free room and meals with a deal that she would take care of a blind old lady who was the grand mother of the owner. For her, Kanazawa was her second home town.

When I was little, we went to Kanazawa once, but I only remembered two things: I was watching the thick clouds from the airplane that could not land for an hour or so due to the heavy snow and we walked at a local shopping mall to find rain boots for the snow. She got me red rain boots and I was really excited about walking with the new boots in the heavy snow.
Having said that, this was like my first trip to Kanazawa.

We visited some places where she had associations with, like a site where she was brought up, parks where she used to play around, shrines and some small streets. While visiting each, she seemed filled with emotions. Sometimes, she was staying silent, and other times, she signed out, staring at the place that changed its face or she acted like a kid, saying,
"wow, wow, I remember this!"
It was really moving to me to follow her footsteps in the past and to experience the town in her perspective.

One afternoon, we visited Goriya located by the Asano River. Japanese traditional wooden building was still remained. It was gracious and classical. She tried opening the bamboo gate that was led to the main entrance of the restaurant, but the gate was locked. She knocked the back door, yet there was only silence. An old lady passing by the street looked at us as if we were strange people. So, my mother stopped her to ask about what happened to Goriya.
"Ah, it was closed in a few years ago and nobody lived anymore. We have no idea about where the son of the owner went. I guess he ran away."
"I see, I used to live here to take care of the old grand mother...."
My mother looked sad.

It was a hot and humid day in spite that its already September. The sun was setting, the clouds were glowing pale pink, cicadas were singing loud and the wind were faintly blowing and shaking leaves of willows. Mountain ranges dimmed in the far distance.
We were looking at the sunset glow on the bridge near Goriya.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" I said.
I could not say such a comment like, "it's pity that Goriya was closed," as it would sound so superficial. Well, before then, it's apparent.

"Yeah, beautiful, well, I often took the blind old lady for walk along the river back in those days," she said with her distant eyes.

We strolled along the banks of the Asano River.

The time has past and there isn't anything that's constant. However, I thought, the river, these willows and these mountains had been there and witnessed all the changes and dramas in this area. Perhaps my mother was in the pictures as well. I was not sure if it might have been because of the ambience or not, but I could visualize my mother taking this old lady for walk by the river around the time of the day when we were now.

To me, the scenery was like a movie set and somehow, in the whole area, there was a sense of good old days remained. The flow of time was slow and gentle.

Japan-ish

My apartment is tiny---a 6.5 tatami mat size room with only a shower equipment.
I am such a-taking-a-bath-freak, so this is really a big deal-- not having a bath tub.
Well, I go back to my mother's house to take a bath sometimes, but recently I've started going to a public bath nearby. Yahoos.
Almost 95% people in the public bath are oldies.

That's the place for them to socialize like a cafe, but having a complete real open (inside and outside) relationship with each other. They talk about how to live life without an air-conditioning and sorts.
And here I am again, I am an outsider. (I often feel like "I am not belonging here" in almost any places where I go. )
Yet, observing those sweet ladies is fun.
Sometimes, they argue about opening and closing a window of the bath space for a while.
When I turned on a faucet at full blast to add more cold water, they shouted at me (not in an aggregating tone, but they are just loud) from every corners, like
"Turn off, Virus will stay if you put cold water too much!" or "Turn on, hot water is not good." I was laughing, following both orders back and forth. Aren't there sweet?
The other day, one old lady next to me started talking to me, completely out of blue, like,
"Do you know my age?"
"ahhhhh, I could guess but how could I possibly know your age? " I said in my mind, looking at her big but saggy boobies.
"No. I don't...," before I finished the sentence, she went,
"Well, I am 77. How good I look, right?" Smiling with a victory smile.

"Indeed, your skin is splendorous and shiny! What IS the tip for it?" my honest response.

Seriously, her skin had nothing to do with winkles or open pores that most girls in my age are concerned. (but not your saggy boobies, that part unsaid, of course.)
Then she kept revealing her life, that is, she is still a instructor for classic ballet and has been doing for 40 years, she is tougher than her daughter and sometimes she gives her massage, and her daughter is also a ballet teacher. And she goes straight to the bath after excise and she never gets sick.
I was nodding every 5 seconds while I was washing my hair.

And not only girls talk I get, but there goes boys talk.
When I asked a bath attendant (an old man) to break 50 yen to five 10 yen, he went like,
" Ok, I will take 10 yen for this service, " with a big smile.
Completely oyagi gyagu -- an unfunny joke specifically made by an old guy.
Then here you go, a guy next to the attendant finished up like,
"You can throw water on him! ha ha ha ha!"
oyagi gyagu, again. Hopelessly, fearlessly.....unfunny.
I was speechless and just smiled at them.
Well, I love their friendliness and admire guts to crack unfunny jokes without hesitation! Aren't they sweet too?

I enjoy those local oldies.
No pretentious ness involved here in the real naked world.

So, just gulping a cold tea after the bath, I feel at home and ease.
As much as I miss NYC for diversity and an easy access to all sorts of cultures, I embrace a bit of Japan-ish long forgotten culture here. Small things like that, which can be found at the very corner of Tokyo, is what I missed while in NY.

GOALLLLLLL!---

the moment when adrenaline kicks in.
Watching a football especially the world cup does turn me on.
Sadly, the world cup came to an end and I have been still re-watching videos that I recorded to analyze each team or game. Am I nuts? Yes, I am, when it comes to the soccer.
As is always the case, I watched the games everywhere like at an electric store at the Heathrow Airport waiting for a plane via Basel, at a cafe in Art Basel, at a sports bar in Basel city, with or without friends. My schedule was determined by the soccer schedule during my stay in Art Basel. Coming back to Japan, I watched the games at home or at a cafe bar in Aoyama by myself. Everywhere I went, or whatever I did, my topic for a conversation was about the soccer.
On the former world cup, I was in NYC. One day, I was sick with high fever. So, I had to watch one game on a TV at my apartment, yet due to a device from the stone aged, that is called Antenna, the TV had such a poor reception. Almost every-time the announcer screamed like, "g-g-g-GOOOOOOAL!" Or "G G GOAL? ahhhhhh! off side..." the screen was filled with a grayish zig-sag pattern. I was like "Where is Amélie?" (in a film, Le Fabuleux Destin d'Amélie Poulain.) What did I do wrongggg?" I cursed, hit and kicked the old TV, but nothing worked on such an old lady. So, with a box of tissue paper and with a sweater despite the hot weather, I managed to go to a cafe that had a TV set (a high-tech device, cabled) nearby my apartment. Like that, I am a soccer fetch. I can admit without hesitation.

The soccer is truly artistic, beautiful and SEXY. To me as an observer, it is absolutely the king of the sports to watch and the players are man of the man. If I were born as a boy next life (if i have next life), I will want to be a soccer player. No other sports can, I think, excite, mesmerize, entertain and unite people. Well, baseball fans, or basecket ball fans or any other sports fan would disagree with me. Yet, let me ask those one question,
"Do you know any other sports that you are not allowed to go to a toilet, check a hot girl or boy, buy a hot dog and beer, to snack french fries, to chat your friends, meaning that you can't even blink your eyes? For about 45 minuets? "
You seriously got to be glued to the game entirely, as there is always a chance that you will miss the most wanted exciting tasteful moving moment of making one GOAL! And, more important, there is always a chance that the goal is made in a second. Do you understand this contradictory theory? The chance is rare, but at the same time, the chance could be in any moment.
i.e. on a game--Germany vs Argentine, I was at a cafe bar and the waiter brought a check. The moment I looked at the check, which was just for a few second, the goal was already made in Germany. I was furious,
" WHATTTTTTT? and NOOOOO, I missed IT!" screamed.
The waiter apologized me sincerely, though he did what he got to do.
Anyways, my point here is ; what's the point of watching the soccer game, when you miss the MOMENT of the goal, which you only have one or two during the half (45 minuets) ? You feel like a loser, being patient 99% of the time in the game, sitting up and down, holding your breath, kicking something with frustration, not being abel to go to a toilet, screaming and sighing...
Because the value of one goal is such a big deal, when you catch the moment of one goal, your built up emotions and frustration are exploded, which leads you to THAT scream or tears or euphoria.
In a tennis match, for instance, yes, there is tension, but before a serve or during the break every single set, you have a time to a toilet. What about a swimming race? Right, it has a tension, but it lasts only for a few minutes? The soccer players are required non stop moves with high tension for such a long time. Forget about an idea of snacking, checking boy and girls and etc even as an observer. FORCUS is needed big time.

Then, here is another thing about the soccer---sexiness. How sexy it could be, when the player does feint movement, dribbling, making a complicated pass, and a goal during the entire time, unlike a baseball, which is too systematic and organized, unlike a basketball which make a goal almost in every second--- just TOO MANY. I could be melted by watching one wow movement after another. They are the real killers.
The highlight is in a goal, but to get there always has a story and drama--- trough many passes or a long shoot from the mid fielder or even the goal keeper. It is like a music--- having a maximum dynamism. It is born by an integration of an individual technique and a team work.

The soccer involves physicality, an immediate decision and action, intuition, imagination, individual skills, organization ability and the strength as one team. And after the game, both players in a winning or losing look amazingly beautiful.
I feel like hugging all, which has to do with motherly nature for 80 % and of course a sexual attraction as a straight girl for the rest. I am being honest.

(As a note, I love watching a good match, but after all, I was for Spain and they won! I cried and could not be happier. )

Ok, I am seriously thinking about going to Brazil for the next world cup. Am I nuts? Well, already answered.

Art Basel

I stayed in Basel for Art Basel for a week.

Wowing in artworks,

reuniting with my ex bosses and good old friends,

meeting new people,

visiting to an artist studio,

sneaking out of the fairs to watch the world cup,

dining and (wining-not for me)

sipping six cups of espresso a day with the real chocolates,

walking though beautiful nature, old houses and buildings,

I could not be happier.

One complain I have is that everything in Switzerland is too expensive.

I ordered just a cup of coffee, a piece of cake for myself and a bottle of water for my friend.

It was like almost 20 swiss fran. We thought the cashier was miscalculating, yet she was NOT.

Well, a bottle of water cost 6 swiss Fran at the fair.

"Ahhh, Hello? Excuse me, but it is just water!!!"

I wanted to cancel one thing, but there were fancy people behind us waiting to order, so I was too embraced to cancel. (My stupid pride!!)

My right hand was shaking, giving her cash.

Anyways, I learnt from the mistake; I never bought anything at the fair. (still at Kiosk, a bottle of water cost me 3 swiss fran though. ) Ai ai ai.

Back to art, the highlight was Basquiat's show at Foundation Beyeler.

The museum's walls were taken over by Large scale colorful paintings---in a one-after-another-style.

My jar was dropped. My eyes were wide open. My heart was beating fast. Right, Adrenaline kicked in big time. How could he possibly produce so many great works in such a short time?

Then Felix Gonzales-Torres installation was lovely.

Even though I'd seen the pictures of his installations, I never saw his actual works before. I almost jumped seeing it for the first time.

Well, my spirit flew up to the ceiling of the museum for sure.

http://www.beyeler.com/fondation/e/html_11sonderaus/01_aktuelle/intro.htm

I felt grateful that I could have a chance to stay in Basel, being soaked into beauty and love.

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=179383&id=547455016