Looking over his Abbotsford field mid-February, Masa Shiroki is undaunted. No, he didn’t get jizake (locally made sake wine) from his first attempt to produce a fully home-grown Canadian batch in 2011-2012. But he smiles broadly and says, “We’ve got enough seed for years.”
That is significant when bureaucrats grant “Made in Canada” dispensations for wine labels. Continue reading
After nearly a week in a culture where people avoid making eye contact, a woman holds my gaze in challenge. How refreshing to stare at each other without being thought rude. Continue reading
The broad, tree-lined avenues of Tokyo’s first public park are alive with dappled shadows, visitors and street artists. A most popular spot in spring for its cherry blossoms, the sakura leaves are not yet gold on this autumnal day. However, Shinobazu Pond, already choked with desiccated lotus leaves and dark seed pods, reflects a pallid sky and the air chills the ears. The city’s usual roar (here muted to a faint purr) is punctuated by insistent crows. Continue reading
Because of its slower pace and older character I chose to stay in Taito, a working-class neighbourhood around Asakusa Sensoji, Tokyo’s oldest temple sacred to Bodhisattva Kannon, goddess of mercy.
From my hotel balcony I see the spire of Gojyunotou, Sensoji’s 5-storied pagoda, dwarfed between residential and commercial buildings. To its left the newest addition to the skyline, Tokyo Sky Tree ascends. Continue reading
The narrow street is dark but for the dim glow of lanterns. Anywhere else as a woman alone I’d stick to broad, well-lit thoroughfares. However, so long as you’re not blazingly stupid about it, Japan is safe after dark. By venturing down a lane such as this, amazing culinary delights can be found. Continue reading
Tokyo Sunset
An intensely orange sunset plays out across the sky. Tokyo’s traffic-fugue floats upward into the high-rise canyons. The city’s 24-hour, open-throated roar—akin to a fog-horn blast—plays pedal tone to random pizzicato horns. Three-beer laughter from the salary men at the corner izakaya riffs over a siren’s yowl, and bicycle bells jangle as Tokyoites leave work. Continue reading
Drawn in by bright red posts festooned with crimson maple leaves arching over a covered street, I decide to follow wherever it leads. Japan has many shotengai like it, covered avenues filled with tiny shops of every sort. From inside proprietors call out irasshaimase! That’s welcome with the underpinning imperative root, come! Continue reading
A little break from themes Japanese today. A few days ago I received an apologetic email informing me that Leaf Press had selected my poem “Final Round” to appear in The Wild Weathers: a gathering of love poems. The anthology will be released in time for Valentine’s Day. Continue reading
By Roger Dahl in The Japan Times, 20/11/11. Used with permission.
While chatting at breakfast with a career diplomat on leave from Kabul, he says: It’s nice to be back. It’s so safe. No worries about suicide bombers.
You’re right, I answer. You’re more likely to get killed by a bicycle. Continue reading
In seconds it’s possible to become disoriented in Tokyo’s snakes-and-ladders streets. Sometimes it’s much easier to haphazardly wander than find a specific location. Doorways often aren’t numbered in Arabic numerals. Outside the major tourist hot-spots, signs are primarily in Japanese. Continue reading
