The days leading up to Christmas were a blur.
They were short and long at the same time.
Mostly cold, occasionally wet.
‘Where to have lunch’ became the most important part of the days.
A family restaurant in Fukuoka is the equivalent of a Japanese restaurant in Melbourne – you cannot help but try to figure out the reasoning behind certain dishes.
Chika was hit by a cold, and I spent a day looking for supplements that wouldn’t interrupt with the breastfeeding.
It was also the beginning of school holidays, so we had to wait for seats at restaurants.
Sometimes I cooked simple dinner for the family.
At night I tried to stay away from the internet and read real books.
I finished two more mystery novels – Gokumon To & Kasha, and decided that I was done with murders for a while.
The thing about detective novels is that a world was created and you could not help but to be suspicious of everyone.
You also expect a definitive ‘truth’ to be revealed in the end, and also justice to be served.
That’s why Kurosawa’s Rashomon was ground-breaking – it depicted multiple narratives from different characters, revealing that there is no such thing as a single truth in life.
Hana started laughing out loud, but only with grandma and no one else.
We also let her try apple juice for the first time.
On Christmas eve, mum, sister, Chika and I went out for yakiniku.
They ordered the premium menu set since usually they’d have to share with the kids.
It became our best meal in Japan so far.
Hana was startled by the fire and started crying.
Good to know her ‘basic survival instinct’ mode is installed correctly.
We stopped for ice cream at 7-eleven on our way back.
