While riding the rails between Kamakura and Tokyo these past ten days one thing I've noticed is children. The school year in Japan ended two weeks ago. In just a few days the new school year will begin. In between school years, mothers and grandmothers have been taking the little darlings to aquariums, art galleries, shrines, and temples.
The children squirm a little in their seats, craning their necks to catch a glimpse of the passing scenery. The mothers and grandmothers endure my semi-surreptitious glances. No one looks the least bit worried. It is vacation time as usual, at least on the Miura Peninsula and from Tokyo west to Kyushu.
Some people on the trains wear masks over their mouth and nose but no more people than I saw wearing masks at this time last year. It is spring and people allergic to cedar pollen must defend themselves.
My friend's son was married on a beach in Hayama last week. She tells me it was a joyful occasion, unmarred by the earthquake and its aftermath. The bride wore a Western-style white wedding gown then changed into a sparkling blue ballgown. No kimono for this modern couple. The picture of the exuberantly happy bridal bouquet startles me - a profusion of primary colors with spiky blue delphinium, vibrant yellow somethings, and blood-red roses. We both grin when she shows me a picture of the cake: the bride and groom facing each other on a green tennis court with the groom arching his back as he prepares to serve.
The wedding pictures and the smiling children on the train put me in such a good mood that I think I might have volunteered to host the next Shonan event if the scheduled hostesses aren't back from the United States by then.
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