Typhoon Park

to all my loyal fans (15 according to my blogger homepage) sorry my posts have been few and far between. I'm struggling with a bit of writer's block. please send me any all requests in the comments. thanks for reading! -Uri

Typhoon Park

The weekend was approaching, so was the typhoon. I pray for clear skies on my weekends, but this being the wettest, greenest country in the world, it does have to rain sometimes. Usually it rains on Sunday and Monday, when I am free from the clutches of the shoe factory. This is a fact. Today, I decided, the rain would not get the best of me. I would suit up with all the waterproof gear in my possession and head off to a new park to enjoy the autumn leaves.

I had just bought a pair of rain galoshes, but I decided, “nah the rain isn’t that bad. I’ll leave ‘em at home”. I left my apartment without my rain coat on, hoping to brave to ever so fine drizzle that is a Japanese typhoon. Rarely are the drops big and heavy, but for some reason the misty drizzle makes you twice as wet. The tiny drops stick to everything and cannot slide off like the big drops I’m used to. Needless to say, I got to the second flight of stairs of my apartment (lucky number 404) before I put on my rain coat.

I made it to the bus station, mostly dry. My pants were a little damp, and my shoes were wet, but my socks were dry. Nothing a 40 minute bus ride wouldn’t cure. There was the usual confusion about which bus to board, where it was headed and the anxiety of heading in some direction without really knowing if it was the intended direction or not. If you can’t live with this type of grief, don’t leave your country. Luckily, Japan is so damn beautiful that even getting lost is usually rewarding.

I made to the intended destination, a sports park at the base of the Azuma-Bandai skyline. I got off the bus, and was treated to rain. Once again, this isn’t the big drops of pouring rain, but the light mist that you can barely feel, but soaks you to the core. After a quick pit stop for a coffee and a map consult I headed off into the park.

I could’ve cared less about the rain. With everything being damp and dark green, the colors of the leaves seemed to pop even more than usual. The reds, oranges and yellows were significantly brighter against the soaked wood and green grass. Everything seemed to have the contrast turned up. Everything felt much more surreal against the wet backdrop. The clouds hugged the mountain crests behind the park and lazily floated up and over…actually I don’t know if they were clouds or fog, technically. All the leaves, brown, green, yellow or red, shined with the sugar coat of rain water.

My feet were soaked. I hated myself for leaving my brand new rain boots back at home, nice, dry, and worthless. My feet weren’t cold, just uncomfortable with their squishy-ness. Even though I could see my breath all day, I was never cold. I think the layer of cloud-fog was crucial in keeping some kind of warmth near the ground. The rain never once let up, so we retired to the sports center area and drank some coffee.

I took off my shoes and laid on a couch; all the children stared at me. It’s quite funny to watch a child realize you are foreigner. One moment they are running along, lost in their world of imagination. Their world is sublime until they catch your face. Once they see you they either wave and say “hello!” (rarely) or they become instantly quite and introverted. You can see a child go from mindless animal lost in imagination, to silent contemplator within 2 seconds. Their smile melts into a serious expression of fear and wonder. Often the parents follow the lead of the child, albeit much later on the uptake. Continually they look back to check on us after they have walk far past.

Speaking of children: near the sports center, there is a leaf pit. It is exactly as it sounds. A giant box, full of leaves for children to play in. I almost jumped in it my self. The kids would build up a big pile of leaves and heave themselves into, or throw there sister/friend into from behind. Such a simple idea…”hey lets build a box out of wood, fill it with the billions of leaves in this park, and let the kids play in it!” I was amazed, though, that super clean Japan would allow such a dirty device for children to play in. That leaf pit looked a haven for spiders and ticks, the latter of which I am deathly afraid. Sorry, no pictures, but I still haven’t overcome my fear of photographing children in the wild. It just doesn’t seem right.

The rest is history. I got on the bus, got off the bus and walked home. I ate at my usual weekend stop off, the wonderful CoCo Ichiban; a massive plate of rice and curry hits the spot any, cold or hot, wet or dry.