Food and Drink

Considering the Japanese love affair with sweets, whether it be cakes or more traditional confectionery, the nation’s continued svelteness is even more incredible. In fact, it’s arguably fair to say that the amount of goodies that many Japanese seem to regularly put away would have many in my native Britain indecorously bursting out of their elasticated waistbands at the mere thought of such delicacies. A plight that would perhaps also leave them with barely enough breath to get through that overly long and largely comma-free last sentence.

Plus, if simply eating them in large numbers wasn’t enough, merely producing sweets would appear to be almost as pleasurable.

Green tea plants aren’t an uncommon sight in some parts of Tokyo, and in nearby Saitama Prefecture, there is an absolute abundance of them. Disappointingly though, they don’t appear to have any scent. Or at least none that I’ve ever noticed.

However, passing a tea field during what was presumably the year’s first harvest (or ichiban cha), made for a completely different experience altogether. For starters, the machine in use was a fairly interesting looking contraption, but it was still nowhere near as surprising as the fragrance from the just-cut leaves. A smell that was really quite startling — one of incredible, mentally still reproducible, freshness.

This little fella is undoubtedly well cared for, and similarly well clothed, but while patiently waiting for his master to fill up on beer and yakitori, he not only appeared sad.

But downright inconsolable.

The fact that this little boy is stood in a dingy alley amidst a load of dodgy bars definitely has something to do with it, but there’s also something else — something more unsettling about this image.

But quite what that something is, I really can’t say.

Or there again, maybe it’s just me.