Sports & Leisure

Shibuya, Tokyo, two hours before Japan are trounced by Holland.

Riot police were onhand, in case of the twin impossibilities of a) Japan beating Holland or b) a riot breaking out in Japan


And on the seventh day, God created baseball


They put on a good show for the footie, but this is what really gets the Japs going
















The ladies take a more civilised approach

The way I live now

Most mornings begin like this one. But without any of the charming rustic French folk.

So up to about 0.38, then. It's a ghost town. They do all think I'm a freak though, so there are some parallels.

Here are the Gotemba paddyfields, in all their unfenced glory. Do NOT go running at night. There are no streetlights. You will fall in and drown in 6 inches of water.


The neighbourhood is a great setting for a terrible B-Movie, "Killer 'mong the Ricefields"


Ooh, looky, a person!




A token shrine. It wouldn't be a blog post without a picture of a shrine.


So there we have it. Unlike poor, deluded Belle, I am under no illusion that there is anything More Than This Provincial Life. There is a direct bus to Tokyo, however. This may be the last post I file under "Gotemba". Or at all for the next few months, given past behaviour. Two posts in as many days! I need to lie down.

A far cry from Kensington

The Stained Kimono has moved! Kyoto's somewhat passe Kitayama mountains have been upgraded for the foothills of Mount Fuji.


I have taken up residence in Gotemba, which is just underneath the star on the map.

Fuji has not erupted since 1708, but this has not deterred the irrepressible US military. Most mornings I am woken by the earth shattering sounds of "target practice" as they blow holes into the side of Japan's largest active volcano. Not the smartest thing to do at such distressingly close proximity, you would think, but that's why you're not American.

Old view from my bedroom window in Kyoto


New view, outside my front door in Gotemba. My first day, at the end of March, after a freak snowfall, and again on a sunny June morning:


My nearest supermarket

"I come in Peas."

Rainy season is upon us, but this holds no fear for intrepid cyclists such as myself.

Sexy monsoonwear:

Despite the jaunty packaging, they are not in the least bit musical.