Friday means a whole lot more when you’ve actually been working all week. Today I had three classes that I taught, and one Japanese class from Mr. Hayashi. It’s been a long time since we’ve been able to do a lesson, but I think it went better than usual. Still, I found some words that I should have recognized but didn’t.
The classes went well, but I was definitely ready to hit the road around five o’clock. I went to my last YMCA Japanese class in Sannomiya, and learned a couple of new tricks. The class is down to just a couple of people, a far cry from the big group we had when we started. They have one more class on Monday, but I’m starting a regular lesson with Tsuji-san, so I’ll be busy.
I skipped the usual ramen stop in Sannomiya and went home instead. I changed clothes and walked down to the yakitori. I had a good chat with the master, lots of chicken, and a couple of beers. His big sign over the front of his shop was torn off during the last typhoon. He said that this weekend he’ll be getting it replaced. He also invited me to a volleyball tournament that several of the regulars are participating in. I don’t know if I’ll be able to go – it’s pretty far away and only accessible by car.
He also said that they broke down and opened the bottle of wine that my mom had sent along from Bartholomew Park, a late harvest zinfandel. He said it was great – he opened it with some of the members of the softball team. The image of a bunch of athletic Japanese guys sitting around a yakitori quaffing Bart Park zin is stuck in my head – too funny.
Around midnight I got home and had a glass of port before hitting the sack. Tomorrow I’m going to meet up with an older guy that wants to practice English in Takasago. Should be interesting.
