Light lunch, indeed.
On the walk to work I bumped into H.-san, who invited me to help with a story. Something to do with a special plate of sushi for the New Year, she said, which was enough for me. Anything to get out of the office, right?
I was practicing kanji when she called. She was in a hurry, was I ready? I logged off the Internet and was ready to roll.
On the drive over, she apologized for the rush. "That man has a famous character," she explained, pointing to the lead car, "because he is always in a hurry." She said that it was difficult to find the place we were about to visit, but that Hurry-san was from the area and knew exactly where to go.
On the walk to the house, Hurry-san pointed out a small concrete block with some kanji on it. "That is where the tsunami reached to," H.-san translated. "It happened in 1946, during the war." We were maybe 500 metres from shore. The wave must have wiped out all the houses in the neighbourhood.
I spent the next three hours watching three weathered old women go about their business. H.-san asked a question or started filming every now and then, but mostly we just sat and watched. There is something magical about grandma's kitchen, isn't there? The way they just own the place. One of the women was 80 years old, but she didn't stop to rest the entire three hours: she was too busy boiling crab legs, frying shrimp tempura, cutting and arranging - always arranging - the sushi. She said they got up at three every morning to start cooking, that they did it for fun because there wasn't much profit in it, that this was real home cooking as passed down from their own grandmothers. They told us about the war, how there weren't any men around because they were all off fighting, and how they felt lucky now to be able to cook every day in peace and quiet.
Around noon the the sushi platters were ready for delivery. We all sat down for tea. H.-san and I ate a couple pieces of leftover sushi and an orange - "we Japanese like a light lunch" - said our goodbyes and headed back.
I can't wait for dinner.