Right now I'm in the kitchen of a farm house (Nakamura shizen farm) in Yachimata, a town of about 70,000 people about 35 miles east of Tokyo. I just saw a mouse dart out from under the filing cabinet (which is under the computer desk, where I am now) grab a crumb, and dart back.

I arrived yesterday, and plan to be here for nine days - June 5th being the last full day. It seems like Mr. Nakamura doesn't need much help with farming, but he likes to practice with his English. He teaches English out of his home in the evenings, so in an effort to be useful (and to make sure they don't decide to stop feeding me) I'm helping with his teaching a little bit – one of his students will be going to the US in a month, so I'll be spending some time every other day with her as a conversation partner. As far as practicing Japanese, Sumiko (Mr. Nakamura's wife) speaks only a bit of English, so I get to practice when I speak with her. My Japanese is very awkward, and I can't always understand what's being said to me, but so far I've been able to get across whatever I need to. Mr. Nakamura is also a photographer, and put out a book of photos and essays from his experience here. Dave, he really liked your picture of the snow on the tree branches. ("Jozu ne" -- very skillful.)

The weather seems pretty clear. Today it was partly overcast, partly sunny. Yesterday there was a threat of rain, but it disappeared.

Mosquitoes are a part of life here, as are chickens. I can hear them walking around on the roof over my room. (The chickens, not the mosquitoes.) I saw a little praying mantis on my window screen this morning. The walkway towards the front door is arched over with a huge kiwi vine, and there is a blueberry bush near the front too.

Despite the encouragement from websites I've read, trains and bicycles aren't all that great a combination, at least not if you're set up for extended bicycle travel. It's true that you can put your bike in a bike bag, and then go onto any train or subway (assuming it's not dramatically crowded,) but weight is a big problem. With all my stuff - basic tools for the bike, tent, sleeping bag, clothes, too many books, etc, my luggage was almost too heavy for me to manage. Aside from the physical struggle, I felt pretty foolish, and attracted a few stares and scowls.

But, the good news is, I did it! I had a lot of help from Masami and Shoko, but I was able to buy a ticket (after about ten minutes of trying to study the train maps on the wall, and the automated ticket vending machines, I gave up and went to the ticket counter), got on the correct trains, and got off at the right stops.

So I've decided to lose some weight. My goal is to shed 15 pounds before I leave. It won't involve any exercise and it won't involve eating any less, but it will involve leaving some stuff behind, or sending it to myself in Bellingham. With that, and if I can compact my luggage to just two bags (the bike bag and my backpack) the trains should be less of a struggle.

I had a strange experience right after arriving in Yachimata. After calling Mr. Nakamura, I sat on one side of a bench next to the payphone, where an old woman was sitting, and eating a rice ball. When I sat down, she reached over to pick up her purse and a little bag. I thought it was to give me more room (even though I had enough), so I said "daijobu, daijobu" ("it's ok,") but she ignored me. In fact, she got up, and went over to another bench about ten feet away. It was a strange feeling! I haven't experienced that kind of naked scorn since, say, middle school.

On the other hand, most people have been really friendly. One man on the train helped me carry the bike bag down a flight of stairs, and another older guy on the subway smiled and made a pedaling gesture with his hands to signify "bicycle." After I arrived at Mr. Nakamura's farm, ate some lunch, and set up my bicycle, I decided to ride my bike into town, about 8 miles away, to find a place where I could get some film developed. As I was just leaving, a mother and her daughter were walking by. The daughter, a girl of about eight or nine, smiled, waved and said in a high clear voice "Konnichiwa!"("Good afternoon.") That simple thing did a lot to negate my uneasiness from the encounter with the old woman on the bench.

Well it's past midnight and I still need to take a shower. After doing some laundry (my room smells like socks) I might try to make it to the beach tomorrow, about 15 miles away.