ate too much handmade candy

Morioka is the attractive tree-lined capital city of Iwate, and where i spent the last two nights. Probably my most uneventful days yet, but i had a great time. The night i arrived i learned of the 11pm curfew, and thought to myself, 'Well, at least i'll save money and go to sleep early instead of do something dumb and expensive, like drink even one beer anywhere.'

As usual, i went out to search for internet, not knowing yet of the extremely fast and thankfully free wireless that i am running on right now, coming from some heavenly source i know not where. I ducked into a hip-looking cafe and asked the goateed proprietor for directions to one. He thought and thought and then slowly drew me a map as if he had to pull the location from some dark recess of his mind with tweezers, or as if he was divining the map from the direction of some supernatural voice. Either way, i had a map, and we briefly chatted about music (the name of the net cafe was sukatto, which sounds like scat, and i asked him if he liked scat music because he seemed the type, but strangely he never heard of it), and then i promptly left after he gave me his cell number in case i get lost. Before i got far it had started to drizzle, and i heard my name being shouted behind me through the pitter-patter of raindrops: it was that cafe guy, with a red umbrella in his hand. What a stand-up guy, thought i.

And so began the journey that ended at a large shutdown warehouse called "Sukatto Internet Cafe." For some reason i didn't really care all too much -- the walk was nice, and what else would i be doing anyway? So then i began searching for dinner, which is always an exercise in finicky compulsion for the simple reason that there are too many choices not to be. Quite anticlimacticly i ended up in a Family Mart combini and got some natto rolls, an egg sandwich with no crust, and a box of watery juice. When i paid for them the girl pulled out a mystery box and requested of me to pick a ticket. Out of the ordinary, but okay! i thought. I picked an ice cream ticket and won some vanilla ice cream! This made my day way more than seeing some more cruddy temples, as you can imagine. I managed to find a seat on a playground contraption near a running track outside a school, and enjoyed my convenience store dinner in peace with my book. On my way home i popped in to the cafe again to return the umbrella and figured i should get a drink, so ordered a chai tea. A smiley waitress with orange hair served me a huge porcelain bowl with a milky, cinnamony mixture at the bottom. It was actually very good, and the fact that i was drinking it from an oversized bowl just added to the fun. I left after getting to a stopping-point in my book and retired to my room, which is a four-person but devoid of anyone besides me. This is when i flipped open my laptop and discovered the internet, and this made my spirit soar. Kind of sick how i have become like a heroine addict to the internet. But how can i be blamed for lusting for communication with people i care about?

Yesterday found me by the station eating a breakfast of buttery toast and coffee cake at the "Pole Cafe." Smoke was everywhere, and it seemed as though when one middle-aged smoker left, another one took their place. A particularly hideous salaryman sat beside me for a while. He had an unnaturally large black wart beside one eye, a nauseatingly poor comb-over with wispy ends going every which way, and he stared into space as he sucked on one cigarette after another. He almost made me want to puke out my toast into his lap, more out of disgust from imagining what his life was like than his present appearance. After breakfast i went to the tourism office and got some information about a handicrafts town a bus ride away with homemade traditional sweets. Can you imagine what my reaction was? I also was informed that a festival was taking place that day, called Chagu Chagu Umako -- a procession of a hundred or so decorated horses and their traditionally-clad keepers from a temple in the north to a temple in the south, taking all of four hours to complete the pilgrimage. Before taking the bus i went down to see Iwate Park, which is laid inside old castle walls and quite pretty, then walked over to a famous local sembei (rice cracker) shop. The local variety is called Nambu Sembei, and some kinds taste almost like cookies. I got a variety pack and have been nibbling on them until now. When i got downtown again, a parade had already started down the main street, and i got to see a number of performances: a marching band playing Spanish marching music that stopped to break out a medley of Disney cartoon songs (they played Ducktales and Rescue Rangers while i was there) as flag dancers danced to the beat, a procession of traditional old women dancers dressed in colorful kimonos and pointy straw hats, a military marching band not playing Disney music, a battalion of high school age batton-twirlers in low-cut black uniforms followed by elementary school age batton-twirlers in sparkly green dresses followed by babies in little dresses just prancing about with their moms by their side, a league of traditional drum players followed by more dancers in kimonos, and finally the chagu chagu horses themselves in full bright regalia flanked by police cars. There was even a pretty woman pulled on a rickshaw waving at everyone (a celebrity?). All in all, a grand time.

The handicraft village must have been built especially for me. I baked my own sembei, watched an old lady fold a log of soft green mochi over a long red worm of red bean paste, ate some dango (glutinous rice balls) covered in black sesame paste, and bought some kinako (sweet bean powder) candy. I also got to see grumbly old men make and paint tea kettles beside a coal furnace. I met a tall red-haired Kentuckian there who lives in the area and just started three English schools with his Japanese wife. *as i type, kendo practice is loudly occurring outside -- yes, i'm staying in a budokan (martial arts building)* He told me about his flirts with tanuki who come trying to eat his garbage, and how they should be glad that he doesn't have a shotgun (i faked a polite but non-approving laugh). He also told me how he wanted to clear all the bamboo from his property up on the mountain, and i then unleashed all my environmental management fury upon him, making him feel small and uneducated about the importance of soil types and ecosystem services.

Getting back to town, i wanted to try another local specialty, called Ja Ja Men -- a kind of cold noodle dishes with pickles and miso. I had seen a restaurant before near the station called "Hot Ja Ja," and decided to try my luck there. Outside the restaurant, a tireless theme song played that went something like this: "Hot, Hot, Hot Ja Ja" with a rumba beat. Unfortunately, upon being seated i learned that the miso paste has "a little bit" of pork juice and beef in it, so i settled for a strange korean soybean soup that was hard to pronounce, even in katakana. It was surprisingly delicious! It was a thick soy-based soup filled with sliced cucumber, raisins, and clear chewy noodles.

And that's about it in pieces. Going to Aomori today, my final destination before my ferry to Hakodate, where my new life begins.