From Thursday

So I have a lesson with a couple of Japanese ladies each week. Their husbands, one a high ranking diplomat, and the other, a partner in an international trading company, have transplanted their families here for a few years. They send their children to English private school, thus giving them an extra advantage in a society that prizes English as a second language. This group of ladies has morphed over the years, so much so that none of the originals remain. We always have a splendid time, and I have grown used to the idiosyncracies of their culture. The exceeding politeness is extremely pleasant, but only half as much as slipping beneath it and tickling them where they aren't used to being tickled. They will talk openly, (openly!) to me about their child's first menstruation, even though this is kept completely (completely!) hidden from the girls' fathers.

Anyway, every week we meet and talk and tell stories and learn some new words. I bring my coffee and they have tea. There are always edibles laid out, far more than we could possibly eat. Sometimes the items are individually wrapped and sometimes not. I've loved some of the things like black pepper crackers, wrapped in twos in a beige and black wrapper, tied with a little ribbon and then the cracker has a little stripe of seaweed, a belt if you will, around it. It's a cracker, but it's so special at the same time. But then others,god, I am sorry I opened the package, and even sorrier as I bite into a kind of shrimp gumdrop coated with sugar. Yack!

The Karinto that I showed on Thursday was not the first time that I had had it. I immediately took out my camera to take a picture. The ladies were a bit perplexed, and I explained that I wanted to show it on my blog. (They know about, but don't read it) So just as I was leaving, Mrs C ran into the kitchen and brought the bag you will see to me. She said her mother had sent them from Japan, and that since I liked them (I do, they're delish) to please take some. (Constant lavishing of small gifts is actually a pretty charming part of their culture.)

Let's have some fun. Spouse will be home soon (supposedly) from happy hour. I'll try and see if I can get him to eat one without me telling him what it is. Oh, and at the same time, I can try the new "high quality video" function on my phone. (What, I had found the pixel setting and set it to High quality already. How was I supposed to know there was another setting? No, it wasn't in the instruction book, No I'm not kidding.)



Can you believe he didn't forbid me to post it?