haru dakara

A few years ago, a friend of mine was jogging around a local park one sunny April morning. She was 21 at the time and the sort of girl that you’d call a firecracker; always full of energy and zest for life. You couldn’t help but have a good time in her company and I’m pretty sure that if you were ever lucky enough to get her in bed, you’d be up for a whale of a time. I’m only pretty sure about that because as I said, she was a friend and besides, this isn’t about her so much as what happened while she was out jogging in the park.

So there she is, pootling away and she becomes aware of this guy who has started jogging alongside her. She looks over at him, wondering what he’s doing, but he doesn’t acknowledge her, and they just run on together for a while in silence. Suddenly, he reaches over with his right hand and squeezes her left breast, holds it for a moment or two as my friend looks down in surprise and then he takes off at full speed in the opposite direction.

A few days later, when she told me about what had happened, the Westerner in me managed to be both outraged and sympathetic in equal measures but she herself appeared utterly unruffled by the whole affair. I couldn’t understand why she wasn’t pissed off about it and when I asked her, she simply shrugged her shoulders and said “Oh...haru dakara , because it’s Spring...”

She explained to me that the Japanese believe that people do all kinds of crazy things in the Spring and that any peculiar behaviour at that time of year, especially of a sexual nature, is quite understandable...why, it’s just human nature....

And it’s true, they do believe that here. I’ve heard it used many times for any number of reasons to explain or excuse oddness between March and May. I don’t know that it constitutes what you’d call an actual legal defence, but it certainly appears to be a notion close to the popular bosom. Sometimes I wonder if life might not be a sort of perpetual Springtime for me. It's entirely possible.

And since as excuses go, this one’s pretty much unbeatable, I’d just like to say that if you notice anything odd about my behaviour, anything at all, I only have this to say

haru dakara

Do you remember me telling you that I was to be the new hancho from April? Well, today was my first chance to be in charge of the exciting recycling operation that takes place once a month.

At precisely 6:45am I leapt 'enthusiastically' out of bed, winced as my ELP smacked against the floor and threw myself downstairs, into some clothes and out of the door in several very unfluid motions.

At the little plot of land which doubles as neighbourhood rubbish dump and spillover carpark for the nearby temple, I found things already in full swing. There were three other hanchos already at work, guarding the large netting bags used for the collection of plastic bottles (clear), plastic bottles (coloured), polystyrene and sundry plastics, as well as the crates waiting for steel cans, aluminium cans, glass bottles (clear) and glass bottles (coloured).

As the neighbours all woke up and began the task of disposing of their recyclable rubbish, we were there to help them and I am happy to report that I did you all proud. I said good morning to a large number of people that I had never noticed before and helped them to find their way to the correct receptacle, sometimes even helping them to empty their rubbish bags, if they looked like they needed such help and sometimes even if they didn't.

The best bit about it was that I was presented with my very own yellow armband to wear, which proclaimed me a hancho, lest anyone think I was just some crazy gaijin who likes waking up at the crack of dawn (that one's yours, rache) and hanging around looking at other people's empty shampoo bottles. It might have been sleep in their eyes, but I like to think it was a new found look of respect that I saw when they noticed my yellow badge of authority...

One old fellow of about a hundred and sixty five or so, I should think, came shuffling along, bent double with age and pushing a little trolley, in which were balanced precariously eighteen (I counted 'em as I threw them away for him) empty 2 litre bottles of shochu. As you'll see from the link, this stuff's about 50% proof on average and this constituted a serious amount of drinking for one wizened little old fellow of about a hundred and sixty five or so to do in a month....

Anyway, I can report that it really is interesting having a look at other folks' garbage and I am now a fully fledged recycle technician but the buggers made me give back my armband at the end....

Now, on to other things...

First of all, I really appreciate the suggestions you made for my forthcoming trip. I'll let you know whether I manage to do any or all of them...

And now to answer a few of the questions from the last blog...

EroVeggie asks whether he can have my cookies if I die. Since I'm not planning to die, ever, the answer, sadly for him, is no.

Ani Difrentdrumrco asked about BRN. Hmm...it's like this...if you ever hear from him, you'll know about it. As much as possible, he is kept securely under lock and key but sometimes, somehow, he manages to escape and there is always a lot of clearing up to do afterwards, so please, try not to encourage him....

Dope Mama wondered about the financial arrangements behind the holiday. Well, my father in law is paying for the whole family (thirteen adults and children) to go out to celebrate his 60th birthday....

The answer to the pertly benippled Aleph's question is more complicated. He wonders why it is that birds suddenly appear- everytime I am near. This is in part due to sheer animal magnetism but also has something to do with migratory patterns, though probably not very much....