When I recently read in a Tokyo daily an ad for a Thai vegetarian cooking class somewhere "in another prefecture" it had a dangerous ring to it (not the cooking).I liked.I responded.
I have loved the sound of 'prefectures' ever since I set foot in Japan.Ibaraki,Aomori,Gunma,Tochigi....I could well be reading music.Who knows what mysteries these far off places hold ? Who are the people who live there?
In Hong Kong, the word 'New Territories' similarly stirred my inner 'qi' (chi). From where we stayed as tourists on Ho
ng Kong island (ah the skyline) I had to get a whiff of the dangerous mainland air. I walked its teeming streets (check pic) full of strange sounds and sights - less Hong Kong more China. I understood fewer things there - but thats the whole point of these 'Last-Train-Stops'.Meanwhile in Japan....my train reached the outskirts of Tokyo Prefecture, where I had to change subway lines to more exotic sounding ones
(Seibu Ikebukoro,Seibu Chichibu..). These lines figure on the fringes of the Tokyo Metro Subway map as thin lines- with a start but only a vague suggestion of an end, in small type, at a romantic sounding station.As if warning me that the journey's end may just be a concept.Who knows.
As the train surfaced from the deep bowels of Tokyo city, the landscape had changed. Tokyo's neurosis considerably ebbed,pulse dropped notches lower. Small houses with their own pocket sized gardens. Men in straw hats tending to small tracts of land (cabbage? spinach?). Mountains rising all around.Pastoral and all that. (Exhibit A: the naive goggling city bumpkin)
Two and a half hours later, I arrived in Koma, my destination in the Saitama Prefecture. I breathed the cool mountain air. Where are the people? The quiet station tucked away in the middle of nowhere could hardly mean serious business. Drivers probably dont even bother stopping here.The quaint barn-like organic,vegetarian Alishan cafe and shop (venue of cooking class) sat calmly on the banks of the Koma River. May, the Thai chef - our teacher for the afternoon showed us the joys of Thai cooking to the strains of quaint Thai music in the background. One of those mildly disorienting experiences where in flashes I wasnt quite sure which part of the world I was in. Talks of galangal and lemon grass in the Kanto Plain to the strains of lilting South East Asian music and a Canadian exchange student by my side.
As the sun set on the quiet little town of Koma (a dog barking in the distance), my palate tingling with the taste of red chilly,lemon grass and of course galangal ,I headed back to the madness of Tokyo, like moth to a flame.My batteries needed recharging. I think I was wilting. Rural,pastoral is all fine for a day but I needed my crazy cocktail of city sounds. I am headed back to where I belong. Also my family (of scapegoats) await me and my newly honed Thai cooking skills...
PS: I love Thai food. If my journey to the end of the earth doesnt prove it what does.
