Tag Archives: Japan

16. Country mouse

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There’s nothing quite like spending a few days in London’s leafy suburbs. My head is spinning from the range of international cuisine to choose from, the delivery to the door of fresh food, the charity shops selling the hand-me-downs of the well-to-do. The easy and regular public transport.

We went to a Japanese fast food place for lunch today. Proper, real, honest to god Japanese food. I haven’t eaten inari in years – it tasted as good as I remembered when I used to buy it in my local supermarket in Sue-machi. The katsu curry brought me back to winter evenings at my friend Takako’s house in Sasaguri-machi. The edamame were a delight. It was all southwest London outside the window – red buses and black cabs going past – but inside it was all Japan. And how happy I was.

Then a spot of shopping. Not much, because we’re travelling light and don’t have much room in our bags when we make the return journey to the midlands in a few days. An independent bookshop was a delight – our second in less than a week. While the range on offer and the hours you can spend in Waterstones – the big book chain store – is amazing, there’s nothing quite like a small independent book shop. They’re always quirky, with friendly staff eager (but not too eager) to help. This one was narrow and tightly packed. We had to squeeze between shelves and step aside to let other customers pass. We all got excited when we saw books that we’ve read or showed each other books we want to read. We oohed and aahed over beautiful cover art and I apologized to the shop assistant for buying nothing more than a greeting card and not supporting her business more.

We browsed a few charity shops. I’ve been looking for a linen shirt, and I found one that, by the looks of it, is brand new and only cost me £3. We were drawn to the books in the charity shops too and to the cute little figurines and ornaments. I offered to buy Lily a measuring tape housed in a crocheted ladybird, but she declined my offer. How strange. Coincidentally, I bought a Ladybird book for myself for nostalgia’s sake and I bought Katie a badge. It takes so little to make us happy.

And then it was a fancy coffee place for salted caramel iced frappes. You don’t get those in Sanlucar, let me tell you! And then it was back to the train and in five minutes we were walking down the tree-lined road back to Sarah’s house.

While I never want to swap rural life for suburban or city life, I still enjoy savouring what this other life has to offer. The katsu curry and salted caramel frappe taste all the better for only being available to this country mouse once in a very very blue moon.

Photo by Emrah Kara on Unsplash

13. Liliane’s replacement

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We’re on the train and I’m very excited. In only a few hours, we will be in southwest London at the home of one of my dearest friends.

Sarah and I met in Japan in August 1997. I had already completed two years as an assistant language teacher with the JET programme in a little town in Fukuoka in the southwest of the country. Sarah was brand new and had come to replace my friend Liliane, who had the same job as me in the next town over. Surely, no one could replace Liliane.

I arrived at Liliane’s apartment one hot August evening to meet this new person. Sarah opened the door. I remember her holding the Arthur Hailey novel Hotel in her hand when she opened the door. Back then, I was all up myself, into the Beat poets and raving about Jack Kerouac, so I wasn’t too impressed by her choice of reading material. ‘She’ll never replace Liliane,’ I told myself.

She invited me in and we sat at her kitchen table (Liliane’s kitchen table) and started to get to know each other. Twenty-eight years later and I’m on a train to London to see Sarah. I’ve no idea where Liliane is.

Sarah’s first year in Japan was to be my last. We quickly became firm friends and giggled our way through that year, having all sorts of fun. A year after I left Japan, I returned to visit her for a few weeks the next year and when she returned home to live in London, our friendship only deepened. She came to Ireland and met my family and I went to England and met hers.

We met our future husbands at around the same time. I still have the letter she wrote to me about the cute Spanish guy she met while she was in Boston and how he stuck a Post-it note to her work computer, asking her out on a date. She sent me that letter around the same time I sent her a letter about the cute English guy I met while I was studying in Aberdeen. Her wedding a couple of years later to Luis remains the best wedding I’ve ever been to.

We became pregnant with our first babies within months of each other and Lily and Isabel have known each other since they were tiny. Then I had Katie and Sarah had Daniel and our four kids – now all teenagers – get on like a house on fire.

Rarely a year has gone by when our two families don’t spend time together – her English-Spanish family coming to spend a few days with us; my Irish-English Spanish-speaking family spending a few days with them. These annual visits are a highlight of our year. The fact that our children all get on so well makes it all the easier for Sarah and me. Over the coming days, we’ll hang out, go places together, she’ll tell my kids stories about me and I’ll tell her kids stories about her – all from the days when we weren’t a whole lot older than they are now. And we’ll part ways after those few days, our friendship renewed and, despite a few more wrinkles than last year, the two of us feeling, just a little, like we’re in our 20s once again.

Now, I wonder what ever happened to Liliane?