Bahaha juice

Post by Ella

Yesterday we had a few hours to kill in Kii-Katsuura waiting for our train to Osaka. A very small town but an important tuna fishing port.

We wandered, were stopped by friendly locals to see if we needed help (we may have looked a bit bedraggled). One pulled up beside us and honked. We said we were just walking around. He said he’d lived in Boise for a few years and in Mexico. He remembered some Spanish. Hasta la vista he yelled as he pulled away. Another tried to point us to the Kumano Kodo. We tried to explain we’d just finished that hiking ordeal but language got in the way. She’d parked in the middle of the road so a leisurely conversation with google translate was not possible. 

We noticed a cemetery hidden at the end of an inlet.  The Jizo statues below are deities that protect children and travelers. They are often dressed in red caps and bibs. Red symbolizes vitality and also wards off evil spirits.

There was a small shopping arcade where I continued my quest for Yuzu Sake. Did I mention? Our host, Naomi, in Chitkatsuyu served Yuzu sake with the meal. Yuzu is a Japanese citrus fruit. Delish!

Stopped in a cafe to quench our thirst. Grubb wanted coffee. I wanted juice. I looked down the list (luckily there were English translations hand-written in). Orange juice, mixed fruits juice, bahaha juice. What? Well that sounds fun. Say it aloud a few times. I handed the menu to Grubb so he could make his selection. Cafe au lait and banana juice he says. Banana juice? I didn’t see that….ohhhhhhhh! We cracked ourselves up saying bahaha in various accents. Try Polish, Bronx, Louisiana…

Ran into Anthony and Susan once more. They were headed into the shop next door to stock up on snacks for the train. It was a sweets shop. Guess they needed their sugar fix.

Onward to the train platform. We struck up a conversation with two Canadian women. One a professor from a small college in BC going to teach Geography and English at a college in Hokkaido for a semester. They indicated that while they thought we Americans were mostly lovely people, our cruel idiot of a president could take a piss. Well, they put it more crassly than that but I’ll spare you.

Then the train pulled in and we scrambled to our carriage. Car #1, seats 7c and 7d. Four hours later, Osaka. We were pros now. We knew exactly how to get to the hotel from Osaka Station.  A bed. We got to sleep in a real bed! Now if only there were an Onsen here.