Before coming to Japan, two of my friends (one of whom is Japanese, the other lived here) warned me not to get too bent out of shape about the amount of single-use plastic there is.

I thought I was prepared, but I wasn’t.

It’s a lot.

With that in mind, I have to avert my eyes to the amount of plastic around my very simple breakfast.

So I caution you to do the same before you read on.

Now you’re prepared!

I want to share with you the simple genius of these rice-balls. There is a layer of thin plastic that sits between the nori and rice. It’s wrapped in such a way that when you open it, that plastic layer gets pulled out and away — and the nori and rice ball finally meet.

So the nori is crispy and fresh till you’re ready to eat it.

Genius!

Like a love story waiting to happen.

These rice balls are amazing. Sold at every konbini, they have a variety of different fillings – spicy mustard greens, umiboshi (pickled plum), tuna and mayo, seaweed, kelp.

My favourite? Umiboshi. No. Spicy mustard greens.

Today I went on a long exploration of the other side of the river.

While wandering around, I passed a supermarket. The grapes at the front looked so delicious, I had to buy a bunch. It’s always fun checking out supermarkets in other countries.

You can learn a lot from going there. For instance, when you check out here, the cashier puts your items back into the basket. You then take your basket and shopping bag to a separate table and pack your groceries there.

If look at the photo (to the left) you’ll see customers doing just that.

On the way back to the Airbnb, I passed a building advertising an art exhibit. It said First Floor – Admission FREE, so I went in.

Someone was there, perhaps practicing, perhaps performing. He was in an enclosed (barred) space and no one was in the audience. So I stood for a while and listened.

My lunch (grapes and doriyaki) and my after dinner dessert (grapes and mochi).

The grapes were almost unbearably sweet. Sweeter than any dessert I’ve had here so far.

On my way to the cafe, which has now become my regular spot, the man who sat beside me in the cafe yesterday – the same man who ordered the ice-cream ball – passed me on the very folding bike he was carrying yesterday.

I don’t know why but just seeing him again made me very happy, and he was wearing his beat-up leather hat. And that too made me happy.

At the cafe now, jazz was playing – old, good jazz.

This prefecture seems to love jazz. I hear it everywhere here. Even in the supermarket today. Miles Davis, Dexter Gordon, Coleman Hawkins. The list goes on.

It feels like something clicked and finally makes sense about Murakami’s writing – why jazz features so frequently in his books/stories.

It’s a country of jazz.

And that realization also makes me happy.

I’ll close with another photo of Gion at night.

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