enoshima island--my religion

Wow, I can't believe I have left this blog untouched for nearly three months. It's a bad habit to stop writing whenever I get stuck with something--a chapter, a paragraph, a sentence, or even a word. This time it was a pending review of a film that I really, really liked. Really, really liking something sometimes makes it extremely difficult to write about it while you are still extremely wanting to do so.

While the review stayed pending, there have been other things also pending. There are times in your life when it just seems impossible for any progress to be made and you are running out of the energy to change it, and the past month or so of my life has been that way. It's like a rainy season and I know it will go sooner or later. I tell myself that every time. Still, it is frustrating when you are drowned in this strong sense of stagnation.

So today, though I was still dragging the aftereffect of the recent stomach flu, I decided to pay a visit to Enoshima Island.

I don't see myself belonging to any religion, but the way I have been with this small island, I might as well call it my religion. There are shrines up the long stairway, and I do always visit the first one whenever I visit the island to go through the usual "worshiping" ritual, throwing in coins, bowing, clapping, then bowing again after you finish your "prayer." For me, and probably for many Japanese people who visit there, this act has hardly any religious connotation. It is rather cultural and a way to show respect just as taking off one's shoes before entering the house. When I put my hands together and close my eyes in front of the shrine, my words are directed toward not only the goddess of the shrine but also the island, the ocean, the trees, everything that surrounds me on the island.

But, yes, I might as well call this island my religion because I do go there seeking support and comfort and I always find it. I came here before my college entrance exam. I came here while I was applying for grad school in the States. I came here when my mother got sick and when she was recovering. I came here after the earthquake in March. Every time, somehow, it got better. I felt better. If nothing else, it is a truly pleasant place to visit especially on a sunny day like today.

I was there only for an hour or so, visiting the shrine, walking around, taking pictures and browsing shops. The wind was gushing, making the ends of my scarf flatter and leaving my hair all messy. The sun was high up all while and black kites were floating in the blue of the sky. All was beautiful, and it gave me back my energy. Yes, again, I found what I was looking for in Enoshima.

an american day

On a cold rainy day, my friend took me to Costco.

It was my very first time to visit a Japanese Costco. Funny how a mixture of two familiars can be disorienting; all those Japanese products in a huge warehouse interior I've known from California for long.

Not everything was Japanese. In fact, it was the American products that appealed to me now that they aren't as common and boring as when I was in the States. I saw the rotisserie chicken I'd never tried though I'd always wanted to. The selection of cheese, ham and sausage was amazing. Out of habit, I almost bought the 36 rolls of Kirkland toilet paper and a huge bottle of orange juice that would last for weeks. But, in the end, I only bought a box of Campari tomatoes on a vine, which used to be my all-time favorite purchase at Costco.

My friend dropped me off two stations away from my place, so I had to take the train home. I'd never realized how much interest people have in tomatoes in this country; carrying twenty or so mid-sized tomatoes in a clear plastic box, you get serious staring (or glancing and looking away, in Japan's case).

Earlier on the phone, my mom, who had just strained her back this morning, nicely declined my offer to cook dinner and made a specific request for the food I could buy on the way home.

So I did.

Costco and McDonald's. What an American day it was!
(Well, at least, there's no teriyaki burger in the US.)

the getty villa

Last weekend, we went to the Getty Villa in Malibu. It was my third time to get the tickets--they are free, but you have to reserve room for you. The first time I planned to go there, we ended up arriving in Malibu terribly late; the second time, my friend was sick and we canceled it. So it was "sando me no syoujiki" (third time luck) for me, and after hearing a lot about its beauty, I was expecting a lot.

Which maybe I shouldn't have.

It was a very pretty place. Great architecture. Beautiful flowers. I guess my problem was that I expected the Getty Center, that wide-open view. The Villa felt a little too small, and a little too crowded. Everything looked gorgeous, but it was just too much cramped in such small space, with too many people. Maybe it's Malibu; the place has that feeling of cramped-ness despite its beauty and luxury.

Perhaps, I would've enjoyed it in a different way if I was more interested in art. I like to look at paintings, but not so much at pots and vases. The only things I enjoyed at the Villa were the big chimaera statue and the tongue-sticking creature.

I wish I had better eyes for art.

True I wasn't as impressed as I thought I'd be, but it was still an experience. And I enjoyed watching people if not the art or the scenery. They were all over! (Well, we were...).

And I got another pig to add to my collection. If you're wondering, it's a rattle that babies used in ancient Greece.