The fattened samurai is on the road again. Earthquake

Sachi is very petite - even at my five foot seven, she seems half my size. Except for the fish soup, she's been cooking both days we've stayed at Taro's place. I just buy groceries for our shared basket. "Irya, how should I cook the eggs? Make scrambled eggs or boil them?" she asked in the morning while I was writing a post. "However you like, you're the best cook." "Oh, thank you." Usually when a person points to themselves, they poke their chest with their finger. She points at her face with her index finger. Sometimes I think she wants to say something got in her eye. Funny.

This is my last morning in Sapporo. This city is worth living in for a long time - but that's a different journey, and now it's time to go. Heavy footsteps echoed on the wooden stairs, and Taro's sleepy face appeared from behind the doorframe. He'd slept off his night shift. "Alright man, time for me to go." "Yes, yes." "Thanks for everything, and keep in touch." "Yes, yes, yes." He shook my hand and put his arm around my shoulder.

We went outside where there's a big box with a bicycle. It's Taro's order that arrived. Had to delay another half hour - wanted to take a look. Tomo, Sachi's boyfriend, travels with an old Japanese camera that shoots large format cards. In three months he's accumulated a bunch of undeveloped film. My photo with the bike went in there too. Leaving the city is sluggish. My relaxation after a long rest and the stuffiness are taking their toll. On the downtown streets there are tall stone buildings with colorful signs, men in white shirts still stand at intersections. Girls on silver bicycles always wearing light scarves so they flutter in the wind. A bike path leads from downtown to the outskirts. It runs in the forest shade, touches the river. On this hot day, half-naked city dwellers from teenagers to old men are jogging here. I ride around them, around a group of guys in baseball uniforms near the field, at a road crossing I pull up alongside a girl. She's on a bicycle wearing a hat, and in her wicker basket is a white fluffy dog. At the city exit, in the shade of a tree, stands a small truck with a leg sticking out the front window - two workers in work clothes having a fiesta. That's it, the city is behind me. Next destination - Lake Shikotsu. The section of road I'm about to cover today is directly related to cyclists and is called nothing other than "Gateway to Success" - it has a series of steep climbs and descents. Many competitive cyclists train on it.

The section is indeed difficult. But after two hours of climbing, a miracle happens. A van driving by stops, and some woman gets out. Then from the other door - Taro's still sleepy face. "Wow, how come?" "My friend and I decided to drive to the lake." They took my big bags and let me test my strength on the "Gateway to Success" traveling light. I must say absolutely honestly that the bicycle carried me like a warhorse from which they removed the bridle and horseshoes and let loose in an open field. "Write down my website address." We were saying goodbye to Taro and his girlfriend after we had dinner of vegetable soup and avocado sandwiches.

Her name is Hiromi Nakashima. When asked "are you a photographer?" she answered "uh, maybe." The website should have photos, haven't looked yet. She's also into yoga. She and Taro look great together. They even talk similarly. Taro never says "no" either, he usually goes "uh" and then says "maybe not." "What does maybe not mean? No or yes?" "Uh, maybe yes, maybe no." "Ok..."

The lake is full of tents on the weekend. Some families are peacefully fanning coals, but there are young people too. A sparkling rocket shot into the air and burst with a pop, then another and another. The reflection of the glittering circle flashed on the lake's surface. They set off fireworks here today. I ride up in the dark to a free spot to set up my tent. "Do you need a flashlight?" A boy is holding a hanging lantern. His parents saw someone trying to set up a tent in the dark and sent him with the light. "Yes, thank you." I have a smile on my face again, for the umpteenth time today.

At night I woke up from an earthquake. I felt it lying on this very ground that was moving under me like a washing machine in spin cycle. Not a single frightened scream to be heard, and the earth shakes silently. Only the Japanese woman in the neighboring tent is moaning with pleasure, as is her boyfriend. Someone laughed in the distance, a drunk exclamation was heard from the other end, and old folks quietly look at the water. Such is Japanese everyday life. At five in the morning I swam in the lake. So clean and smooth that even at two meters deep you can see every pebble. I exhaled and sank to the bottom. Found myself in complete silence and weightlessness, harmony. Today I'll see the sea.