Enjoying the sights, sounds and smells of first-time parenthood. Progress on the vegetable garden and other ramblings of a gaijin in Japan’s least populous prefecture.
Kento seemed to have been saying Dadda months back, but it soon stopped in favour of Mamma, which could mean anything; of late, chiefly food. However, this has changed. Whilst upstairs yesterday I heard a little voice down below, behind the stair-guard calling Dad over and over again. Here are some photos from last month.
Playing Peekaboo.
Ready to brave the cold.
Aside from running around everywhere, he’s in the habit of climbing onto anything he can.
It seems just about everybody has the snuffles. I didn’t help myself by going to the nearby brewery to indulge on the last nomi nodai; drink as much as you like. Our party proved why it would be a commercial disaster in our own country. As a result, I doubt we will be well received on our next occasion. Monday was spent feeling much the same as I did at the beginning of the month.
The following day, enlivened, I set about transplanting the onions. By lunchtime and after moving some of the other plants around, the following were squeezed in:
The leftovers were stuck amongst the garlic chives of which I had neither last year. It felt really good to be out there, fingers in the dirt etc.
Yesterday two rows of peas were planted just before the rain, which I thought may have turned to snow.
On the news this morning, there was footage of heavy snow up in Aomori prefecture.
What little motivation I had was sapped by a lingering cold. Beginning to get the better of it, I harvested the rest of the sweet potatoes. Later in the day, my wife brought back some sushi. After eating it, we both took Kento for an evening walk. I was just about to heat up my cup sake when I thought I best take to the toilet. By my second hurried appointment, I was having to debate which way to face first. I felt dreadful. It was suggested I go to hospital as I might be infected with Anisakis; a parasitic nematode. After another hour of it, I relented and at half ten my wife drove me to the San-in Rosa hospital. Incidentally, over here you check the local newspaper to find which hospital to visit, since they rotate the aliments they treat.
Upon arrival, we had our insurance details taken and joined the back of the queue. I am glad I didn’t have to queue for the only toilet as I was still going both ends and quite explosively too. After sometime, I was then examined and soon found myself prone and on a drip, but not before getting an injection in the arse. There I lay for a good hour and a half thinking about the toilet. Towards the end of my course, I did take to my feet to relieve myself. Sadly, it was another toilet with an empty soap dispenser. Just before two we set off home.
I didn’t get a good explanation of my malady, although the word taichyo was mentioned a few times; something to do with being run down and getting ill. Whilst I was being treated, a father there said both himself and his son had the same sushi. His son took a turn for the worst though, having had a cold. It could be there is higher bacteria count in the fish this time of year. Having a weakened immune system gives rise to the chance of food poisoning. Although over that, I am yet to shake off the cold.
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