Trying again and again

My son is trying out several different activities.  There are lots of classes around for him to test out to see what he is interested in pursuing.  He tried a classic ballet class this week. 

According to this "investigative reporter," ballet classes in Japan for children are exactly the same as ballet classes in other places around the world.  Cute kids in tutus and black leggings lined up at the bar doing plies and learning foot positions. 

The school was overjoyed to have the interest of a little boy, as they are always hopeful to have them join the classes and performances.  I would expect to have the same reaction regardless of the location (with the exception of Russia, where I'd think it was pretty popular, but that is just an assumption). 

Farm fresh Italian

A friend sent me an invite to lunch today.  She was craving lunch at La Mouri and wondered if I wanted to join her.  Of course I did!  Last time we went to the farm-to-table restaurant, it was amazing.

I arrived a few minutes early and found myself gazing at the farm for a few minutes.  It was such a beautiful day.  The fields were bursting with so much produce - peanuts, eggplants, carrots, and so much more. 

Today's lunch was splendid and fulfilled my every craving.  La Mouri makes amazing, scrumptious food.  Both our appetizers and pasta were incredible.  Knowing that so many ingredients came from right next door made it even more amazing.

My friend and I had a lovely chat as we talked about birthdays (she reads my blog and since I just wrote about it, it was fun to discuss the differences in cultural approaches to aging), kids, and so much more. 

As we were leaving, we chatted with the chef for a bit.  He actually has visited Seattle.  Soon the three of us were talking in a mix of Japanese and English all about Seattle, food, and duck eggs.  There are some topics that go beyond language.  Food is always one of those topics. 

I left the restaurant elated.  Good food, good conversation, and a whole lot of good feelings.  And the rest of the day, the smile wouldn't leave my face. 

They just don't care

In less than an month, I am turning 40.  That is a four followed by a zero.  Although I try to pretend it isn't a big deal, it really is.

For me, turning forty is a rite of passage.  It is something that I've been looking forward to for a while now.  Forty is a way of saying "I've lived a lot, but I have a lot more to live."  In fact, I have lived an interesting life thus far with many chapters that are so diverse that most would not expect one chapter to lead into the next.  But here I am, turning another page in the book of life. 

I don't think anything will happen at the magical moment of turning the calendar from 39 to 40, but if I was in the US, I would probably celebrate in some way.  Maybe I'd have an evening out with my girlfriends or a party at my house.  But no matter how I chose to celebrate, when I told people it was my 40th birthday, they would make a fuss over it.  It is just what one does.  Any time someone changes that first digit of their age it is considered a big deal.  In Japan, people couldn't care less.

They will kindly say happy birthday, but going from 29 to 30 or 39 to 40 and so forth simply is not a big deal here.  For the most part, Japanese people do not celebrate birthdays after childhood beyond eating cake. 

There are, however, a few exceptions.  The year a child turns 3, 5, and 7, they attend a special festival called shichi-go-san at the local shrine honoring their birth.  When a Japanese person turns 20, they officially become an adult. 

The next biggest birthday isn't until the person turns 60!  Known as Kanreki, the 60th birthday is considered a rebirth because they person has completed 5 cycles of the Chinese zodiac (jikan junishi).  The celebrant wears red, has a party, eats a special cake, and is gifted presents featuring the symbolic red color.  This is perhaps the most celebrated birthday in a Japanese person's life.

The last three big birthdays are special because the kanji (Chinese writing system) is written in a way that has multiple meanings.  Turning 77 is known as "happy age."  Eleven years later the kanji brings attention to the 88th birthday which is known as "rice age."  Finally, the 99th birthday is the "white age."

It sounds as if I am having a bit of a pity party.  I guess I am just a little bit.  After all, for me, turning 40 is a big deal.  It is something I want to celebrate.  And yet, I fear, it will just be another holiday that is special to me and not to anyone else on this continent (with the exception of my husband and son).

Flutter away

Last year I was sitting in the park, enjoying a lovely afternoon, when something black flew right past my face.  I jumped back in surprise and tried to follow it with my eyes.  The wingspan was wider than the width of my hand.  I immediately thought it was a very confused bat.  And then I realized it would have been a rabid bat. 

Once my mind really got going I mentioned it to a park mom.  She laughed and told me, "That was a butterfly.  There are lots of them around here." 

Since that informative talk, I have been on the hunt to get a better view of this fast butterfly, named onaga ageha (also known as long-tail spangle swallowtail).  I would see them often during the heat of summer, but they never stuck around long enough for me to take a photo.  Every time I saw one my heart would pound a little faster and I'd reach for my phone just to watch it flutter away.

When we saw one at the park this weekend, my husband and I both reached for our phones and started clicking.  We were so excited when we actually captured it on film.  We took as many as we could as it fluttered around a tall, pink Hibiscus syriacus (also known as Rose of Sharon).

Later in the day, we checked our phones to see who got the best photo.  Our son was very eager to look at the photos.  He wanted to look the butterfly up in his bug book.  He zoomed in on each photo.  Suddenly he gasped and then squealed with delight. 

In the background, hidden behind a flower was a praying mantis.  We had no idea it was there, but he found it in the photo.  It was an extra fascinating find.  I only saw praying mantis' at the zoo when I was a kid, so every time I see one here it is extra thrilling for me.  Since my son has a praying mantis in his classroom that he often watches eat live crickets, he knew exactly what could have happened.

Having the photo feels like mission accomplished with a bonus.

Respect your elders

We woke up to a light rain this morning.  The forecast said it would stop by 3 am, but it continued well past 10 am.  I awoke to find my husband and son dismantling and organizing Legos.  They weren't heading to work or school today because it was a national holiday.  Respect for the Aged day has been a national holiday since 1966, celebrated on the third Monday of September.  As indicated by the name, it is a day reserved to visit grandparents and do something nice for people over 65. 

I am saddened to report that we did not do anything to recognize the holiday.  Instead, I cooked lentil soup and the boys went to the sento.  After they returned we all watched a movie.  It was a super relaxed and family focused day.