Transfers

Today's newspaper lunch hour featured an article about the projected inflation of the yen.  Now that there is a new head of the Bank of Japan, one that subscribes to the same economic principles as Shinzo Abe, the process will be moving along a little more quickly.  This seems to be great for Japan, but for an American making yen and sending it home, not so great.  I feel like inflated currency seems to be following me from country to country; maybe it's my attitude.

Regardless I felt a new sense of urgency to make haste to the bank and transfer my yen, something on my to-do list anyway.  Each time I do it, I get better at the process.  Whether or not to use block letters, to correct mistakes with a double line and an inkan stamp, to check the box saying that I'm not affiliated with Iran or North Korea.  I'm still not slick with the "purpose" for the transfer.  The purpose is to transfer.  It's a purpose within itself.  But that doesn't seem like the right answer, and unfortunately the workers at the bank have limited or no English, so short and simple is always best.  "To evade Shinzo /Abe's progressive eco/nomic policies," would be a chotto (bad idea).  I'm sure I'll have ample opportunity in the future to perfect my haiku explanation.  For now I'm pleased with my double line error fixing and solitary gaikokujin raid on the bank to transfer my money.  It isn't Cyprus, but all in all, it was a pretty exciting afternoon.

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This evening after the concert we had yet another hanami, this time sponsored by Sado-san and the HPAC office.  We gathered in another spot in the same park as Monday and they offered us beer, Byerly's orange drink and lots of yummy snack foods.  Sado-san toasted all of us, saying that even though the HPAC season starts in September, for Japan, April is the start of the year.  Spring certainly feels like a true beginning.  Everything green is different in spring.

Christy, me, and Ani, blurry but happy

so many people, so many picnics, so many flowers

the flowers in the early evening between one light and another

On the way home I got severed from my biking companions and found myself riding solo.  The light on my bike is taking a yasumi (break) from working and this can be a tad dangerous as one approaches elderly bikers or walkers in the dark along the river.  (Everything green is the same color in the dark).  Without a light, one can couple anonymity with safety by singing a song to let them know you're there..."I'll be loving you, eternally..."  The blossoms are just now starting to blow away.