Jon and Lucy at sayonara karaoke in Muroto.

Nancy at sayonara karaoke in Muroto.

That's it. That's all. We're outta here.

Spent the day packing in spite of the typhoon down south which means nice waves at all Kochi beaches.

Slowly but surely, our Japanese life is winding its way into boxes, which has been less sad than I thought it would be. Can't wait, really, knowing that our flight to Thailand leaves in 13 days...

Its been a good two years. Can't really sum it up, though. I ate a lot strange things, met a lot of great people and sang a lot of karaoke. What more can I say?

This is my last blogger post for a while. There might be updates from India, but its too early to tell. Until next time, stay fit and have fun.

Sayonara.

Nancy on the train.

Jon on the train.

Last night the board of education threw me a going away party. It was an expensive affair. I know because the main dish was still wriggling. At one point it was even flailing. But mostly it was just wriggling.

After work we boarded a bus for the restaurant, which was in the neighbouring town of Usa. There was even a sign: WELCOME TO USA. Everyone laughed at that, as they must every time they visit Usa .

We arrived at the restaurant and piled out of the bus. Tanks of live fish, lobster, crab and oysters cluttered the entrance to the building. A puffer fish lazed near the water's surface, giant clams shuddered and snapped, the lobsters clambered over one another for a better view. It was more aquarium than eatery.

But what a spread! Jumbo sashimi platters, shrimp tempura, Chinese-style fried pork, yaki niku with all the dippings and chicken fried rice. The director made a speech and I made a speech and we all sat down and got busy: meat frying, clams snapping, people drinking, smiling and laughing.

A moment passed and the main attraction was set down in front of me. A giant lobster, still squirming, its tail sliced open to be eaten raw. The poor brute looked on in agony as people commented on the sweetness of the meat, the crispness, the freshness, the pure deliciousness, which is what it was.

Used clothes shop in the Kureshiki shopping arcade.

What follows is a list, by no means exhaustive, of questions I have been asked and have answered during the past two years of my life in Kochi, Japan.

Do you have rain in Canada? Do you drive on the left side of the road in Canada? Have you ever been to Hokkaido? Have you ever seen aurora (northern lights)? Can you see aurora every day in Canada? Where can you see aurora? Canada is very big, isn't it? Canada is very beautiful, isn't it? Do you have ninjas in Canada? There are many wild animals in Canada, aren't there? In Canada the wild animals are very dangerous, aren't they? Do you have lakes in Canada? In Halifax you can ski all year round, can't you? Do you know Mike in Edmonton? How old are you? How big is your penis? How old is Nancy? How many brothers do you have? How big is a moose? Have you ever seen a moose? Do you like miso ramen? How often do you eat udon? Who is stronger, Godzilla or Ms. Yano? What is your favourite colour? What is your favourite month? When were you born? When is your birthday? Would you like some coffee? How about some Japanese tea? Have you ever been to America? What countries have you visited? How old is your mother? How old is your father? What does your mother do? What does your father do? Do you like ice hockey? What is Canada's national sport? Why do people in Canada speak both French and English? Do you speak French? Do you speak Japanese? You can do anything, can't you? You speak Japanese well, don't you? You are very smart, aren't you? How long did it take you to learn Japanese? What does a buffalo smell like? Do you like coffee or tea? Do you play banana? Do you have mosquitoes in Canada? Do you have dragonflies in Canada ? In Canada there are no wasps, right? Do you eat bread every day? Did you come to work by helicopter? Do you fly to Japan every day? What is your shoe size? Why are your eyes blue? Why is your hair red? You can use chopsticks very well, can't you? You have curly hair, don't you? Do you eat maple syrup every day? Did you forget to shave? Are photocopiers the same in Canada as in Japan? Is rice the same in Canada as in Japan? Does water taste better in Canada or Japan? How big is Canada? Do you know how to use a Japanese fan? Do you like mochi? Can you eat unagi? What is your favourite sushi? Can you eat sashimi? What's that smell? How do you say nani nani in English? Why did you come to Japan? Which do you like better, Canada or Japan? What are you doing? Wanna arm wrestle?

Say hello to Vineeth. He's standing in front of the grass gateway which was the center of the festival. Young people walk a figure eight through the gate in order to ward off bad luck and stuff like that. So now we should have good luck. Yippy!

First you take a baby octopus (bottom). Add batter (top left). Fry into a ball shape (top left). Viola. Octopus balls.

Goldfish for sale. The idea is to catch the goldfish with a paper net. You catch as many as you can before the net breaks and then the game is over.

The alley leading to the shrine was absolutely packed.

Entrance to the festival.

Nancy, Marian, Chika, Sumie and Helen, otherwise known as The Resevior Girls.

Sumie helping Marian with her yukata.

The festival was at the biggest Shinto shrine in Kochi City. We took the tram from Rob and Marian’s house near Denki Dynamite and got off in front of the Mos Burger. From there we followed the crowds across the red bridge toward the temple.

The temple lay at the end of a small alley. Food stalls were set up along the length of the alley, selling everything from goldfish to fried octopus. There were even some Turks from Kobe selling kebabs. I ate one but it was mostly fat and not very good. The giant Japanese wiener, on the other hand, was delicious.

The heat inside the alley was almost unbearable. Fan as I might, I just couldn’t keep the sweat from dripping. At some points the crowd was so thick I couldn’t move at all. And this was just a small, everyday festival.

Once inside the temple grounds the atmosphere changed considerably. There was room to move and cool air to breath. Pine trees towered overhead and paper lanterns lit with candles gave the only light.

The festival basically involved walking in a figure eight pattern around some grass set up as a gateway. It was for good luck for couples. Nancy and I held hands as we walked the figure eight, then went and got some shaved ice to help cool down.

After that we hit the road. Said goodbye to our last Japanese festival for a long time.

The other day Nancy used her birthday money to buy a yukata. Tonite we headed into the city for a matsuri at one of the local shrines. More pictures and a story tomorrow. Promise.

What the hell?

On the train into town, Rob decided to take some pictures of the girls.

That's it, work it girls.

Nancy and Helen in their new yukata.

Torii gates somewhere near the top of Ishizuchi-san, Ehime-ken.

On Friday, we had our first ever Japanese home stay. With total strangers. Which is sort of the point of a home stay, I suppose. Only we didn't meet our strangers through Oxfam or something like that. We met them at the bar.

The initial plan was for camping and a barbeque somewhere near Kuma. But when we got there, in the mountains about an hour from Sakawa, it was sort of drizzling, and we couldn't really find anywhere to camp and didn't feel like cooking in the rain. So we went to an izakaya for some food and to figure out a plan.

For those who don't know, an izakaya is the equivalent of an English pub, what most Canucks call a bar. It's almost always the kind of place where everybody knows your name. Of course when we head into an izakaya nobody knows our name. But everybody wants to. So they buy us drinks. Lots of drinks. Of course, this happened Friday.

Our hosts were Kenichi and his wife Tomeki. At first we told them we were driving and couldn't drink. So they bought us a small drink, to which we toasted. After some initial small talk – Kenichi is the deputy mayor, works at the golf course on weekends and his wife volunteers at the local temple – they discovered we planned on camping. "Are you kidding? Its raining and where are you going to camp anyway? You're staying at our house." I swear this is what he said. How could we argue?

We ate and drank, talked about declining birthrates and multiculturalism. Around nine we headed to the local snack bar, where Kenichi had a bottle of whiskey. Once again, for those who don't know, at snack bars customers usually pay by the bottle. The snack bar owner writes the customer's name on the bottle, and the customer drinks from his bottle until there's no more left. Makes sense, doesn't it?

Aside from whiskey bottles with peoples names scrawled on them, the snack bar owner had a karaoke machine. Luckily for us, the karaoke machine had English songs. First we sang the Beatles, then John Lennon and finally Paul McCartney. After that it was all enka, the equivalent of Anne Murray on valium.

Then the Hawaiian party came in. They weren't really Hawaiian, mind you, but they had grass skirts and flowery necklaces and stuff. So Nancy sang Kokomo by the Beach Boys and I sang Don't Worry, Be Happy by Bobby McFerrin. And we did Hawaiian dances at the Japanese snack bar with our home stay parents until midnight. At which point it was bedtime.

Did I mention they were retired? That everyone was retired?

At the house – which was positively saturated with mothballs and dust – Kenichi showed us family pictures from the time in Canada. We ate cheese and chocolate and had a nightcap. In the morning we ate a huge Japanese style breakfast – rice, miso soup, broiled fish, fried eggs, and pickles – and headed on our way. What a nice home stay that was.

Nancy and priest.

Three islands.

Three statues.

Who ever said I was trying to be attractive?

Tonight I ate a fish heart. Not like the heart of perch or even a jack. Rather, the heart of a katsuo. Which is to say the heart of an 18 pound bonito. Which isn't so special, now that I think of it. Sort of like chowing down on bull testicles. Mmm... bull testicles.

Anyway, tonight's fish heart was cut into four, each piece about the size of a loonie. I tore mine in half and popped it into my mouth. Of course it tasted like fish, but with the consitency of chicken liver. Mmm... chicken liver. I almost barfed.

Oh, the funny things I'll eat.