Discoveries of a Morning Stroll

This morning Gabe and I decided to go for an early walk around the park before the rain came in. A typhoon was coming, but I figured we had some time to take advantage of the cool morning. As we left the house around 8:45 am, I see people out walking their dogs, a very typical thing to see on the sidewalks around our apartment. As we round the corner of the intersection we live on, I walk past the nice hair salon and makeup parlor where you always see women sitting at the desk being consulted about their makeup choices. I walk past the contemporary wooden house that always has the big dog tied up in the front yard, not caring about anybody who walks past, just enjoying a nap. I walk past the decrepit, old building that always has a smell of sewage on the east side of the street, so I walk on the west side. As I wait at the one intersection between our apartment and Mogami Park, I often see people staring at this strange-looking foreigner with an awkwardly large stroller as they wait in their cars for the light to turn. But they quickly look away when their eyes meet mine. Old women always smile with a look of adoration when they see me and my infant baby. Much like a look of approval, as if even though I was a foreigner, I was doing exactly what women here were suppose to do. I walk past a group of Junior High girls in their uniforms, a white t-shirt and a pair of blue shorts, as they walk into the parking lot of the old Junior High school right next to the road. They look at me with curiosity as they make their way into the building. As I continue walking past the school, I hear a piano player warming up her fingers on the keys in one of the many rooms on the front side of the school with the windows open. I have arrived at the park. I decide to take the back road into the park so I can walk past the cottage tea house, which is usually boarded up when they are not having a tea ceremony. It's quiet in the park. Only a father and son using a long stick with a string and twig tied to the end as they dip it into the small pond next to the shrine temple. I didn't know what they were doing, they didn't seem to catch anything, but they were very studious of the what was under the surface as they gently dipped the long string into the perfectly still water. The water was very dirty, but a beautiful kind of dirty. There was some kind of blossom or small sort of leaf that had fallen onto the surface of the murky, grimy water and completely covered it. It made the water almost look like black marble. Gabe and I stopped at a bench to take in the scenery, smell the coming rain, and me drink my morning coffee and eat my pastry. Gabe is such a good walking companion. He takes in the scenery and enjoys the experience as much as any adult, he doesn't utter a sound when the wheels of his stroller are turning. We make our way through the temple yard, walking past the shrines and prayers people tie to the ropes outside the buildings. If one were to use their imagination, they could see the remnants of the old castle which used to be here and is now a plethora of small and large buildings which are now used for temples and shrines to the Shinto gods. There are many framed signs and scripts along the paths, I wish I knew what they said. I walk up to the offering box with the large rope for pulling after making an offering and look inside the room. It is beautifully ornate and full of traditional lamps and goldleaf. Only the temple preists are allowed inside. It reminded me of the tabernacle Moses built in the Old Testament. There were the outer courts and rooms and the inner room, and the Holy of Holies. This large ornate room was like the Holy of Holies for the Shinto religion. There were many beautiful things in the room that I don't understand, so I just stand back and admire the craftsmanship. In front of the offering box I see cans of soda and juices, some of the jars opened, so that bugs had gotten in and were floating inside. A foreigner who didn't understand would think this was littering, but it wasn't. These were offerings. This is something I don't understand, why would people offer drinks? But I suppose people give of what they have as they make their ritual prayers to the gods looking for good fortune, even if that includes giving your soda pop. We continue our stroll around the quiant park and walk past the old men fishing in the mote. There are always men fishing there. Sitting with their male friends on the bank, not saying a word, just watching the water. I have walked around the whole park and am now back to the road I was on before. I walk past Hokkuo, the delicious french bakery that sits adjacent to the corner of the park. Across the street, the senior citizens are playing a game of Petanku in the amphitheater yard of the Furo No Sato (Shinjo Cultural Center). I stop to watch a few minutes as I listen to the school band warming up their intruments in the Junior High next door. I pick out the harmonies of a clarinet, a saxophone, a tuba, and a piano. The clarinet was the most beautiful, as they played their scales, it sounded very graceful. Surely I thought, "That must be the young group of girls I walked past earlier." The rain was coming soon, so we started the short journey down the road back home. Old ladies passed me on their bikes, some of them giving kind nods as a way of saying good morning. Men with James Dean haircuts and Ken Watanabe looks get into their cars as they very suavly flick their cigarrettes onto the ground. As I walk back home, I am starting to see for the first time that this little town of Shinjo in fact, is a very pleasant town. Life is very normal here. I realize that these things have become normal for me. I like this feeling of acceptance it gives me. Not that I am accepted here, but that I accept being here. How could I have judged this town so poorly? These were people just living their lives like anyone else. I foresee Gabe and taking more walks as the weather gets cooler and more pleasant. I hope I get this feeling again.