someone else's piano

There was a time in my life, not that long ago, when I worked for someone that owned a grand piano. We worked out of his home. It was a large condo with the equipment we needed to produce a still formulating idea of a kids' educational show. His daughter was also my responsibility, and we would often times take walks in the park or play with the pool balls on the pool table when working came to a standstill or the day was just that nice. Sometimes the dad and daughter would not be around, and I'd be in that house by myself. And this is when I would play.

I was embarrassed to play at any other time, mainly due to the mastery of the owner of the instrument. How do you paint in front of Rothko? How do you sing in front of Fitzgerald? So instead I poked around in the cracks of silence I would find in that home in those days. The way the sound filled the air was startling at first... the power of such a large organic instrument intimidated me, but it was this intimidation that lured me closer.

My time there ended before I could know the piano well. I hope one day to meet it again, when the time is right and I dont have to wait for the cracks of time to open up in secret.

I've been back a week now. I can't help but count the days that pass, if not to just simply remind me that I was across the world those days ago. It's surprisingly easy to forget. If there is anything that is a reminder, its the lull and down-feeling I have adopted upon return. It has been an uphill battle regaining a sense of time and structure. My work schedule is sporadic, and Georgia allergies have my up late into the night... I can't help but feel helpless, as if the "what next?" question begs at every turn and all I can do is shrug. A sense of impermanence, transition, and limbo permeate my thoughts.

I cant concentrate on anything, so I find myself wasting time in the pages of the Internets. I have found larger clumps of my time spent leafing through old threads on coffeed.com, or browsing through blogs of baristas I've never met but maybe someday will, reading about japanese cooking on justhungry.com, and repeating Jose Gonzalez videos on youtube on an open browser page as I have yet to bring myself to purchase his records.


By the way, my cat watches TV and eats Japanese candy and sometimes plays the keys:


I dont know where I'm going with this. I guess I just felt a little obligated to not drop off the face of the Internet.

I'm working on new aprons. Inquire if you so desire.

on stateside

It's my fourth day back and I'm still sleeping during the day, waking up at 3am just in time to watch bad infomercials and reruns of Reno911. Disoriented, to say the least.

Last night we had a cupping of the coffees I brought back from Honey Coffee last week. Unfortunately the 12 hour flight and week between roasting and cupping may have done a number on the beans because most of the coffees lost what I knew of them from the shop. Coffees once powerfully bright and balanced lacked anything interesting to speak of. It was all so roasty. It's so strange how these coffees once tasted so light and now just fall heavy on my mouth.

The week between leaving the Izaki family and coming home to the states was spent in Tokyo with my boyfriend, David. He flew out to visit, and we met at Narita Airport. The reunion was special, but it was of course a little weird speaking fluent English for the first time in a month. I met a few foreigners on my way in Fukuoka, but they were always short conversations. Now I was back with my best friend and chatting had to be caught up. We did things like visiting the Imperial Palace and eating ramen... and we trecked an hour outside of the city to hunt for Ozu Yasujiro's grave. It was tucked into a temple full of national treasures off the train stop Kita-Kamikura. Its breathtaking beauty keeps me from inaccurately describing it with words, and even pictures fail to do it justice. Alas, you can view photos from here, and the rest of the trip here.

And here is the last photo taken at Honey... see you soon, miss you all so much.

on moving on

Tears were shed today as I realized how close I am to leaving this place. Tomorrow is my last full day here. Today was quiet yet emotional. Hide and Izaki were out of the shop today, so the general volume was pretty low. Around 3 or so we received a call to let us know that the results for the JBC Finalists were in. This would tell who made the top 10th tier of the 160 candidates of the JBC. As we read down the list, we saw Manu Coffee (one of Honey's customer shops), and as we read her name (Yasukawa) and cheered her name outloud (Yasukawa-san), she walked into the shop. It was surreal, and we all cried. And then I cried harder because I remember how special this moment will be for years to come, and how I didn't want to let it go. Later in the evening, Yoshi-san would ask me if I was crying because Yuko and Yasukawa were crying, or if it was because I was sad of my upcoming departure. It was mixed, but mostly the later. Unfortunately, the remainder of the list did not include Hide's name. We did not talk about this, nor has anyone mentioned it since.

This evening we had a sayonara party at another izakaya. This one is famous for its cuisine and ability to attract foodies and rockstars from around the world. It was spectacular. Pictures from around the world lined the wall, and it felt authentic. As if theyd been there. And Im sure they had. An Izaki family friend, Tod, had recommended the place and even joined us for dinner. I loved the way he makes the Izaki family laugh. Its effortless. We were all in tears from laughing so hard, and I felt at home. This feels like home.

Before coming to Japan, it seemed like I wasnt really coming here. That maybe Id been lying to myself or that I was just going to California to see my family. But the flight was almost 3 times as long as the flight to san fran, and this time the people I was staying with were not familiar. Now the tables have turned, and returning to Octane seems unreal. Lying in my bed with Bruce at 2080 seems like a dream from long ago, even though its only been a month since Dave and I were lounging around with the cat, playing Wii until the hours became too small, or watching Tokyo-ga until the menu screen woke us up in the middle of the night.

Thankfully I feel like my time is done here. I feel accomplished, as if my time was properly spent, and that I have nourished whatever it was that sprang up two years ago when I was here last.

on moving on, I'm looking forword to visiting Momoko in Tokyo along with the rest of the Zoka cats. I want to see Ozu's grave in a snow-filled cemetery. I want to eat ramen with dave on a cold winter evening on the brim of the sumida river. This iwll come next week. And we will move on after that with only memories to bring back.

Have I mentioned that the Izaki family just falls asleep wherever they happen to be?