There have been several contributing factors to this feeling of grumpiness.
First of all is the weather. Now it's a well know fact that Canadians love talking about the weather so I have no plans on slowing myself down here. Fucking humidity. Just walking up the frakking hill to the house leaves me sweating for a half hour. Walking! You should smell me when I get back from a jog.
If you want to understand what it's like in Kobe in the summer, buy a treadmill. Put it in a steam room (push the fat Finnish guys in towels over a few seats to fit it in) Jog for half an hour or so. That's the feeling I get just checking the mail.
What's that? Could I get into some details? Possibly something involving undergarments? Sure can.
The sweat of just walking down to the main road, a hundred steep metres is enough to run down my back like a salty Niagara that soaks into a cotton briefs Gaspe Peninsula that gets stickily wedged into a my Northumberland Straits. And while the amount of time I have to waddle my PEI against my Nova Scotia to walk it out is bad, what's worse is I spend half my time outside reaching my hand right up the Bay of Fundy to get my jocks in the right spot before they pinch my balls off. And no, I don't have any geographical euphemism for that.
I've been having a time dealing with a bit of blog fade since shortly after getting back from Vegas. Conservative politicians still eliminationist prejudice bags? Check. Human and civil rights levels eroding in the western countries? Check. Creationists still trying to destroy education in the US and make inroads into other countries? Check. Ennui setting in? Yep-a-roo.
Summer blahs it is then.
Some time away camping has contributed to some recharge of the batteries.
A couple of weeks ago Mrs Gaijin and I went out set on doing a bit of weekend camping. So we load up the car and head off to Goshikihama on Awaji Shima. There we unloaded the car and got moving on setting up our tent. Let's clarify shall we. Mrs Gaijin walked the dog and I gound a way to drive tent pegs into hard packed, parched dirt with a spork. The spork survived.
Now it's important to understand that the weather was pretty, what comes after scalding? The other thing to remember is that the dog is a Canadian born Norwegian. I think he's a dual citizen. I'll check his passport. The takeaway here is that weatherwise the Norwegians also have a word for Moosehead. That tell's you all you need to know.
Goshikihama is a nice place but has that stuctured Japanese feeling. The drives around Awaji Jima are pleasant enough but don't always excite. Still, a weekend away is a weekend drinking booze while barbequing random meets.
Last weekend we went down through Wakayama to the campground in Hikigawa, near Shirahama. The campground, a nice flat clearing with a central kitchen pit, was about half full. Just down behind our spot was the river running down to the sea. The river was beautifully clear and swift, the water cool and refreshing against the heat and humidity. The dog however couldn't have been more opposed to the water; a thousand years of breeding has produced a hearty, sturdy buhund who doesn't want to mess his hair.
Anyway, more when I get back from Nova Scotia.