Thursday consisted of moving even more dirt. Friday was the same, except we also moved gravel and sand.
It was a miracle we finished our work on Friday: We cleaned tsunami sludge out of the floors of several more rooms, laid down and cut new plastic over the floors of the entire building, and covered the edges of all the plastic in a sandy gravel-type mixture. Then we realized the rest of our mountain of gravel, which was sitting outside in the street, was quickly becoming cement in the drizzle outside that had begun, so we got a bucket brigade and covered almost the entire floor of that building in the stuff, power washed everything, sanitized everything, and probably also did other useful things that I’m not remembering at this moment.
After this we were all delightfully smelly, sweaty, and filthy. It was the perfect day to take a trip to the ofuro (bathhouse). The Japanese surely have perfected the art of relaxation… once you get used to being naked with a bunch of other people. Surprisingly, you get used to it very quickly.
The Cummings had graciously offered to take us, so we all convened at their house after our work. Edie passed out washcloths and those of us who opted for the ofuro over a nice, private shower at the Cummings’ left. Lucky for the Cummings, the ofuro is only about a five minute walk from their house—quite a draw for Edie.
The bathhouse:
What happens is you go into the bath house and pay your dues then you remove your shoes and store them in a happy little locker made specifically for your shoes that you have just removed in preparation for putting them in the happy little locker made specifically for them.
[Author’s note: The previous sentence was written far too late at night and in a state of stupor. I discovered it the next day, but decided it was too funny to get rid of.]
After that you’re gender segregated. The men disappear through black curtains, the women through pink. I have no idea what the men do in their section, but the women disrobe, put their belongings and attire in more little lockers, and then enter the bathhouse where there are so many naked people. All the naked people, probably.
As a matter of fact, you very quickly get used to it and stop being weirded out by the fact you’re having a conversation in broken English and Japanese with female Japanese strangers who are also all naked.
The baths are all lovely. It’s sort of the equivalent of wandering naked through Longwood Gardens or some really nicely landscaped pond-place but being able to actually play in the pools.
After the baths we dressed, reconvened with the guys, and retired to the Cummings’ house for delicious lasagna, salad, and bread. We were clean, in a house, had internet, and were in good company; it was the most relaxing evening we’ve had so far.
The Cummings are gracious, hospitable, and fun; They simultaneously help one get accustomed to Japan, because they’re rather knowledgeable on the subject, but also provide a bit of an English-speaking retreat from the physical and mental rigors of living in a foreign country with a radically different language and set of social customs and societal norms.
Battery is dying now; more later!
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