with a boyhood friend while Randy waited six months to return to Japan. And it’s
a world away from the dives I’d visited — while trying not to appear “judgmental”
— into which many children of the middle class had fled in the sixties to go to
university, drop out, or somehow transform the world into a better place. This
apartment is fresh and clean and orderly and sane. Splendid!

“You can stay as long as you like, Morley. Let’s eat.”

We wash up, sit on our legs with our knees under the low table and begin.
Yoshimi has attractively laid out our dinner in the few minutes our tour has taken.

“So you’ve come to find a Zen temple?”

“Yep, that’s my plan.”

“Made any arrangements?”

“No. I’ll just find one that will take me. Probably in Kyoto. I don’t think
they stand on ceremony. You just show up and they decide.”

“Stay with us at least a month until you learn a few things about Japan.
When you begin to feel comfortable you’ll be able to find your way around.”

“Would that be all right with you, Yoshimi-chan?” Randy asks.

“Yes, that would be fine, but Moree-san will have to pay something for
groceries.”

“I’d expect to, of course. Thank-you. You’re very generous.”

“You’re most welcome, Moree-san.”

Before very long, I find my legs are beginning to cramp. “You’ll get used to
that, Morley. You won’t find many chairs to sit in here in Japan butsoon you’ll
find you don’t miss ’em.”

We finish eating and while Yoshimi clears away the table, Randy opens a
large bottle of ‘biru’ (beer) and pours it into glasses.

“We have a lot of catching up to do. Tomorrow, I’ll take you to the studio
where you can learn something about pots. What have you been doing since I left
Regina?”

page:

13

Japanby Morley Evans

November 21, 2000