No, this is not a joke, nor is it a proverb of sorts. But it is a story of how one day I woke up early in the morning and ended up somewhere I'd never imagined I would be.
We sat there looking through the window into the wild of our surroundings. Two rivers meeting each other just outside the cafe where we sat and drank our mango lassi and iced tea. A bearded man in a white T-shirt and jeans was walking around outside, moving things about like he knew exactly what he was doing. A few minutes later, the cafe door opened and the bearded man walked in, looked at us, and without hesitation, simply pointed his finger and said "Fox!" We rose up from our chairs to take a look as we met with curious eyes and that cute bushy-tailed mischief maker.
The man explained to us that it would soon come closer to the entrance, though we couldn't imagine why. He had been hunting and had buried an entire deer in the ground, all except for the antlers, which were protruding beside the porch where we'd entered. Sure enough, we watched as the fox scurried under the cafe to where its meal awaited. The bearded man walked over to the corner where he liked to keep his cigarettes and grabbed his ipad and uttered three simple English words: "Take a picture!" He then proceeded outside as he called out to the fox "Kochi oide" ("Come here"), to which the woman shaping dough behind the counter responded "Sono koto iwanaide" ("Don't say that kind of thing). Thankfully, as soon as the door opened, our furry friend scurried off into the woods. Sure, a picture would have been nice. But being the scavengers they are, foxes carry a whole lot of...who knows what! So that ended. A few minutes later, we were called out again to see a snake. A "calm" snake, according to the man. Well, thank God for that. Neither of us wanted to meet an un-calm snake.
We returned to our seats inside the cafe and I attempted to eat the leftover ice from my cup of tea. The woman behind the counter inquired about where we were from, how we came to Hokkaido, what we do, and as we talked more, she began to share stories about other foreigners she and her husband had met, friends from North America, and how they came to name their cafe "Talkeetna" which is apparently comes from Alaskan aboriginal language, meaning "junction of three rivers." Indeed, there is also a town in Alaska referred to as Talkeetna with three large adjoining rivers. That explained a lot. Prior to her explanation, we couldn't imagine why a cafe name in Hokkaido would read as "Ta-ru-kii-to-na." So it's not from Japanese. I see. And although we could only see two rivers joining, shortly after we discovered that there was one more just a ways down from where we were.
Before we knew it, we were holding photo albums filled with pictures of bears and mountains, and a script for a TV show (referred to as a "do-rama" in Japan- DRAMA) that had been filmed in their area. The man's name was in the book, too. He was a part of all the outdoorsy stuff, and lent a hand when no-one else knew what to do when nature was giving them trouble.
"Oh no! Where did the time go? We've been here for over two hours. We have to go back home. We have laundry. We have dinner at the Uda's house tonight." We had to go back to our life, back home. I didn't want to leave that old, tiny, hidden place surrounded by trees and the peaceful sound of trees blowing in the wind blended with the flowing water from nearby. We sat a little longer as a group of rafters passed us by.
Finally, we stood up to stretch and took a look around us one more time for the memory. Alexis apologized for having stayed so long, to which they answered that they were happy to have us enjoy time together talking and that it was no problem to just come and "hang out." Unfortunately, though, it was time to move on.
We drove back across the bridge with our fingers crossed, hoping that it wouldn't give way and we would successfully get across the river with our car. Okay, we made it. We drove on along the narrow, bumpy gravel path, until we reached the main road where we hung a left and returned to the house where our day began. Back to our town. Back to normal. Then again, maybe not. Who knows what we may find, especially when we're willing to take a venture off the beaten path?
We sat there looking through the window into the wild of our surroundings. Two rivers meeting each other just outside the cafe where we sat and drank our mango lassi and iced tea. A bearded man in a white T-shirt and jeans was walking around outside, moving things about like he knew exactly what he was doing. A few minutes later, the cafe door opened and the bearded man walked in, looked at us, and without hesitation, simply pointed his finger and said "Fox!" We rose up from our chairs to take a look as we met with curious eyes and that cute bushy-tailed mischief maker.
The man explained to us that it would soon come closer to the entrance, though we couldn't imagine why. He had been hunting and had buried an entire deer in the ground, all except for the antlers, which were protruding beside the porch where we'd entered. Sure enough, we watched as the fox scurried under the cafe to where its meal awaited. The bearded man walked over to the corner where he liked to keep his cigarettes and grabbed his ipad and uttered three simple English words: "Take a picture!" He then proceeded outside as he called out to the fox "Kochi oide" ("Come here"), to which the woman shaping dough behind the counter responded "Sono koto iwanaide" ("Don't say that kind of thing). Thankfully, as soon as the door opened, our furry friend scurried off into the woods. Sure, a picture would have been nice. But being the scavengers they are, foxes carry a whole lot of...who knows what! So that ended. A few minutes later, we were called out again to see a snake. A "calm" snake, according to the man. Well, thank God for that. Neither of us wanted to meet an un-calm snake.
We returned to our seats inside the cafe and I attempted to eat the leftover ice from my cup of tea. The woman behind the counter inquired about where we were from, how we came to Hokkaido, what we do, and as we talked more, she began to share stories about other foreigners she and her husband had met, friends from North America, and how they came to name their cafe "Talkeetna" which is apparently comes from Alaskan aboriginal language, meaning "junction of three rivers." Indeed, there is also a town in Alaska referred to as Talkeetna with three large adjoining rivers. That explained a lot. Prior to her explanation, we couldn't imagine why a cafe name in Hokkaido would read as "Ta-ru-kii-to-na." So it's not from Japanese. I see. And although we could only see two rivers joining, shortly after we discovered that there was one more just a ways down from where we were.
Before we knew it, we were holding photo albums filled with pictures of bears and mountains, and a script for a TV show (referred to as a "do-rama" in Japan- DRAMA) that had been filmed in their area. The man's name was in the book, too. He was a part of all the outdoorsy stuff, and lent a hand when no-one else knew what to do when nature was giving them trouble.
"Oh no! Where did the time go? We've been here for over two hours. We have to go back home. We have laundry. We have dinner at the Uda's house tonight." We had to go back to our life, back home. I didn't want to leave that old, tiny, hidden place surrounded by trees and the peaceful sound of trees blowing in the wind blended with the flowing water from nearby. We sat a little longer as a group of rafters passed us by.
Finally, we stood up to stretch and took a look around us one more time for the memory. Alexis apologized for having stayed so long, to which they answered that they were happy to have us enjoy time together talking and that it was no problem to just come and "hang out." Unfortunately, though, it was time to move on.
We drove back across the bridge with our fingers crossed, hoping that it wouldn't give way and we would successfully get across the river with our car. Okay, we made it. We drove on along the narrow, bumpy gravel path, until we reached the main road where we hung a left and returned to the house where our day began. Back to our town. Back to normal. Then again, maybe not. Who knows what we may find, especially when we're willing to take a venture off the beaten path?
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