Yet another post during what was supposed to be Kitakyushu week, that is only tangentially related to Kitakyushu.
Unchi. What is it? It’s shit, of course. Poop, crap, feces. Number two. A particular stylized kind of shit that only the Japanese with their weird fetishes could dream up. A cartoon coil that spirals up into a cone.
We had another earthquake today. It woke us up sometime between six and six-thirty this morning. Not being a morning person, I don’t recall the exact time but the news reports tell me that it started at 6:11. It didn’t feel as strong or last as long as the one on March 20th.
I’ve been told that the quake was centred around the same area as the one from March 20th, and had a magnitude of 5.7 (update: some places are reporting 5.3). There’s a map here. I tried to go back to sleep, but there were a number of aftershocks that kept interrupting. Under different circumstances I’d have appreciated the full body massage.
I have a writeup introducing Kitakyushu in the works, but it’s taking on a life of its own and needs a fair bit of editing and fact-checking. Until it’s ready, please bear with the shorter posts.
Here’s a temple that I pass every day on my way to and from work. It’s on the same chain of hills as the art museum that I wrote about awhile back, in the Takami (高見) area of Yahata Higashi Ward (八幡東区). It’s about a twenty-minute walk from our apartment, ten or fifteen minutes by bike.
Just a quick post today as I’m working on my pictorial guide to Kitakyushu.
While out doing errands on the weekend, I had an experience that made me wonder if I should start wearing my tinfoil hat again. Less than a week after my Ogopogo post, Lia and I saw the beast again. Makes me wonder if someone with access to a large-balloon-animal factory has been spying on my blog.
It’s been fun writing about food all week, but I’ve received a request for pictures of the fine city we live in. So enjoy these food-related pictures while you can—they’ll be the last ones for awhile. Next week I’ll be taking you on a tour of the lovely industrial wasteland of North-Nine-Islands-City, more commonly known as Kitakyushu.
Math according to Ed: Bugs, and Lots of ‘Em + Thailand + Food week on the Bog = culinary mayhem. Q.E.D.
As some of you know, we went to Thailand for our winter vacation. Given that information, the title of this post, and the fact that it’s still food week, I can understand your anticipation of a story about cockroaches scuttling around the food markets and restaurants. Sorry, but if that’s all you can come up with, your imagination isn’t working hard enough. You won’t get roaches—well, ok, a few—but you will get an anecdote about questionable restaurant sanitation. And more.
Apologies for the title. As a piece of writing it’s plain, unexpressive, and utterly lacking in imagination. Though I’m sure the subject—England—will be more interesting, as are our plans there. Would you expect anything less from news that’s interrupting food week?
It seems to be food week at the Bog. [For those readers who haven’t been with me through the multiple name changes on this site, please note that this journal is no longer called “the Bog.”—Ed> My original plan was to write briefly about one photo. A short note featuring one of Japan’s celebrity chefs. Unfortunately for my wrists, I wrote a lot more than intended.
Welcome to the Pit of Ultimate Darkness. What vile beast dwells here? No, I’m not talking about Margaret Atwood. What would she be doing here anyway, what with her recent assimilation by the borg?
Borscht. What is it? It’s beet soup. It’s Polish, Ukrainian, Russian, and generally eastern European in origin. As far as I know I’m missing most of the required bloodlines so please forgive me if I screw up the rest of the description. I do have most of the aforementioned regions covered through marriage, though.
Why am I going to subject you to a long treatise on the primary sustenance of Slavic peasants? Simple. We had perogies for supper tonight. I’d made—and frozen—them a couple of months ago when I wasn’t spending all my time duct-taped to the computer, composing novellas about single images from my photo library. Yes, I made the dough myself. Yes, I made the filling myself. No, Henny Penny, I did not grind the grain myself nor did anyone help me and yet still I shared the fruits of my labour. No, I have never seen perogies for sale in Japan. Nor dill, but that comes later.