Thursday, August 24, 2017

Japanese House coninued...

The house had a front room which was our living room.  It had tatami flooring, but in concession to Western anatomy, wicker chairs and a table or two, instead of cushions on the floor to kneel on, Japanese style.   There was a door off this room, leading upstairs to a bedroom.  I do not remember that part of the house very well.   My father, wishing to indulge his precious child every delight, had rigged a swing in this room, hanging from the wooden ceiling beams.  One day I came down the stairs, opened the door, and had the back of the swing strike me in the face.  A friend had come to play, and was swinging merrily.  My father, in placement of the swing, had not considered this possibility.  For a few days I had a puffy lip, but no permanent damage was done. 

I have mentioned the shoji, with opaque paper panes.  There was one pane, leading to the porch from my bedroom that Brownie had designated  as his 'cat door'.  He would break the paper and slip through to be outside.  No matter how many times the paper was replaced, he would break it again and again.  We gave up and left it open for him!. 

My mother rode to the village for groceries on her bicycle.  I rode on a seat in the back.  There was a basket in front of the handlebars for purchases.  My mother had no servants in Karuizawa, so she did all the shopping and cooking.  I do not remember ever eating at a restaurant, either there or in Yokohama.

My mother and I would go on wonderful walks.  There was a landscaped trail up a mountain, with little benches and statues on the way which I found entrancing.  One day, our walk was particularly exciting.  Mt. Asama was erupting that summer, and we went out with an umbrella to protect us from falling ash.  For fun, we turned the umbrella upside down to collect the ashes.

I loved that house. It was the last summer I was to spend in Japan.