My bro Ravi made some OniGiri (Basically Japanese Rice balls) the other day and totally kicked my ass. I made some and they tasted good but was horrible looking and fell apart. His look like they are supposed to and he even did a nice presentation. By the way, the little white round thingies are pickled onions (cocktail onions). The sauces at the front that you can’t see very well are (left) Duck Sauce and (right) Hoisin sauce.
So I’ve decided on learning the Japanese language. I’ve actually been wanting to learn it for quite some time, just never had the motivation.
Recently I decided to go for it and learn Japanese. I found a nice resource on the net of some dude who went to a basic Japanese language course and noted what happened. This will allow people like me to see what should be done at different stages of learning. It’s very simple to find resources on the net to learn Japanese, use Google.
Anyway, I am currently practicing writing Hiragana. This takes time but is needed.
Yokosawa village is typical of the mountain communities of the Southern Alps in central Japan; most of which are situated in a setting of stunning natural beauty and inhabited by families who can trace their lineage into Japan’s distant past. However, like other mountain communities in this area, Yokosawa’s population is rapidly declining as young people move away to escape the perceived difficulties of rural life and to chase the glitter and dreams of urban Japan. After the old people are gone many homes are then left empty, often being abandoned by families who are unable to sell the property in a market with no buyers. Such homes slowly fall into disrepair or are abandoned altogether, often being reclaimed by nature and disappearing into the encroaching forest.
Visitors to Yokosawa will be charmed by the magical sense of peace and quiet which pervades the area, yet simultaneously unsettled by the notable absence of people. What I find most disturbing in such places is the conspicuous absence of children, from the empty playgrounds, abandoned school houses and even the laundry lines which carry only the shirts, pants and skirts of old men and old women. Farmers who have left the mountains and who reside in the city often complain that they miss the sounds of the hills: cascading water, the hum of insects and the warble of songbirds. However, those who remain in the countryside are more likely to lament the lost sound of human promise, which is carried best through the now absent voice and laughter of children.