Winter: a Prelude

A sweater can hide
The wrinkles in your dress shirt
But not in your heart
-Hakuma



Last week, it snowed.
I'm not talking one of those early November sprinkles, where people drop what they're doing and run outside to frolic; where class is disrupted but teachers don't mind because it's the first snow of the season and oh, don't they just remember how it was when they were little; gathering what meager flakes they could to make precious, tiny little snowballs that melted before impact.

No.

I'm talking about a ton of snow being DROPPED on our quiet little town as we slept. I'm talking about going outside and not being able to find my car. Seriously, it's like God said, “Let there be SNOW!” and then the phone rang.

Japan is really proud of its four distinct and uniquely beautiful seasons, and I can appreciate that, especially coming from a place where the only time I get to see snow is on television. What I don't appreciate is when one season bullies its way in before another season is through. Apparently, Spring is just as wimpy.

Now let me tell you something now about Japanese housing; they're made light and airy, designed to deal with earthquakes and the harsh, muggy summers. This means that it gets very drafty in the winter, and the temperature inside is the same as the temperature outside. Your only hope is a space heater, often only strong enough to heat one room at a time, and a kotatsu.

A kotatsu is a small table with a built-in heater underneath to keep for legs warm. A thick blanket is draped over the top to keep the heat in, which generally makes for a good reason never to get up from it again. Those who are having trouble studying their Japanese, or want to finish that novel they just KNOW will make them famous, I suggest moving to Japan and purchasing a kotatsu. You'll get the work done, and then some.

One good thing about the winter; no more bugs. The bugs are dead! Honestly, I never thought I'd be so happy about mass extinction, but DING, DONG the bugs are DEAD!! Take THAT, you little fuckers!

Would you believe, as a little boy, I wanted to be an entomologist?

On the other hand, they might all reincarnate as degrees Celsius and freeze my shower...