Moss Movement

Every morning as I make my way down the streets to school, I get the eerie feeling that I am being watched, that my position has been compromised. The underworld is alive and well, ready for the signal to take back what is rightfully theirs.

Some call Kanazawa "The Green City", and I would have to agree. Plant life spills out of garden walls and squeezes up through pavement. Staircases become display cases for caged greenery. Moss, grass, and flowering vines erupt out of sidewalk cracks and alstroemeria grows in gaijin traps. Living admist all of this unstoppable life, one can't help but feel that this entire city is perched precariously atop an ancient society, ruled by bonsai trees domesticated so long ago they can no longer remember the feeling of wild and rampant growth. The lotus plants are pacifists, and the rice conformists. But the moss has other plans.

The morning glories climb windows with their strangling tendrils. The moss, slowly, imperceptibly rearranges sidewalks and slinks up walls. And when the signal comes, Kanazawa will be the first to fall. Until then, the rice waits patiently...

This is my friend Katy. She lives in Wajima, about 2 hours away by bus, 1.5 by the tiny blue box that she calls a car. I just went to visit her for Wajima's main festival, and it was amazing. Though pretty remote, I think the scenery and tranquility might be worth it. Also, she lives a 5 minute walk from a public foot onsen (onsens are hot springs). I only truly appreciated it after running barefoot across a bridge carrying a gigantic and REALLY HEAVY lantern float thing.

Also, I would highly recommend my friend Adam's blog. He was placed in the "geographical center of nowhere", as he said, and reading his blog never fails to leave me in giggles. I posted the link on the right side under the heading, "Friends' Blogs". Check it out, and be glad that I am not dealing with face-sized spiders... yeesh.