Three weeks is too long for me, for this. I feel a little disoriented. I don't know what the date is or what day it is. I'm moving on because the phone tells me to.
It will be nice to get home but when I get back to work I'll be back in the grinder so I want to make these days count.
Yesterday was one of those days when it all happened.
I started at Starbucks where a younger guy watched me put together a couple of pages in my journal. We chatted for a bit. I finished my coffee and went on with my day.
First stop was the National Buntaku Museum. Traditional puppetry, but the show today was trsdionsl dance. I sat in on five or six individual performances. Fantastic. The show lasted all day but I wanted to keep moving.
Started wandering and down a small street I found a shop where a guy was working a noodle machine. Fresh noodles. I'm in!
I had a somewhat disappointing ramen experience the other day but I this was too much too pass up.
Lunch.
I stimbled into the toy district where there were tons of people milling in and out of stores selling video games, cards and some toys. Nothing I thought was interesting but they seemed to like it. So good for them.
followed
I headed back to the hotel and I find a Jazz club. I took note and kept walking.
Out of nowhere a Buddhist monk and I startled each other walking in the space between two buildings. We smiled and bedded to each other and he disappear behind a door.
It seemed a bit strange so I him. It turns out the storefront was actually a small temple. This temple was dedicated to fire. It was about five o'clock and he invitede to stay for the evening fire ritual.
How can you say no when a monk invites you for a fire ritual.
All told it took about 45 minutes with lots of chanting and waving and banking of things against other things. It was me and a lady sat down to watch the ceremony to the end. It was nice, getting a bit tedious near minute 31 but unique .
Hotel for a nap then dinner.
I decided to find the jazz club after my nap. Have dinner and listen to some music.
I retraced my steps and found the club so next, dinner.
As is my habit I find a small alley or street and find a store with little or no English. Hopefully a picture or a menu with numbered options.
I found a small restaurant with plastic sushi on display and my belly pointed me to the door.
There was an old man and younger apprentice behind the counter and an older lady and her younger counterpart working the crowd, if there was one.
When I walked it everyone jumped like they just got caught sleeping. I'm the only one there. It might not be a good sign that the place is empty but wrf.
I pointed to the plastic food I wanted and the apprentice went to work with thee older man bird dogging the entire process. If anything the quality control on my plate would be excellent and I have to say it was very very good.
I went slow and mixed the flavors to enjoy the ride and I loved it.
I left full but not sloshing in my shoes.
Down the road was the B-Roxy night club in the basement of an old building. It looked like a forgotten storage area these guys decided they would play music in.
I did a lot today but this,this was the best. Drums, guitar, standup bass and a trumpet. C'mon ...
Later in the set one of the audience guys opened his case and joined with a sax.
It's those days when I'm ass deep in a speadsheet or under a heater looking for gas leaks or in some fucked up meeting I'll remember that Jazz club or that mink or those old ladies dancing and it will take the edge off.
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