The sky is pale and the ground white. Clumps of last years stubble in the rice paddy are soft white tufts in dark water. The heater is on and I'm once again curled up under the kotatsu wearing one of Stephen's sweaters and my pjs. It's nearly 8:30 in the morning.
This last month has been breathtakingly busy, and I feel that even my mind has been racing in the intervals between tasks and jobs. All I want to do is drag my feet, hide under blankets or stretch out in the sun (we've been having some stunningly warm days). Today is my last Friday in Shimosuwa. We're moving next week, to the edges of the metropolis, and I have meetings in Tokyo before so I'll be catching the Azusa Express to Shinjuku one last time on Monday. Though, it doesn't feel final,and it's not - we have plans to come back in
May, July, and
August for the festivals, and again for a longer stay this time next year for
Ombashira, or
Onbashira, as Stephen would spell it, and correctly so, but I think it sounds like an m so I'm sticking with my version.
I'm surprised at how
home Shimosuwa has become. We've lived here for three full years though: longer for me than anywhere but Meaford or Adelaide. Even my time in Toronto was a hair shorter. We've been very much part of a community here though, and here's where I have to admit that there are benefits to living and
travelling with an anthropologist.
However, I am excited about Tokyo. We'll be arriving in time for the cherry blossoms, and I'm cutting down the hours at my
day job to focus more on freelancing, so I'll have time to explore. As usual, my heart races on ahead. I'm falling in love with the idea of a place.
