Drove down to the Kyo this week, taking a leisurely 6 hours on the backroads. The day was open and bisected by the line which I traced with my tires. Just when I was beginning to decide that Tokyo had declared war on the countryside in the form of huge industry and construction projects, I'd get caught up the beauty of the sky and the mountains and the farmers doing their thing underneath. I brought my New Mexican musical sensibility with me, in the form of Neil Young and Johnny Cash and Ry Cooder, though the charm of the West is lost here where the trucks are small and devoid of color. Not a gun-rack to be seen.
The return trip Monday was just as pleasant, a stop for ice cream almost obligatory. In the valleys all was warm and sunny, rivers bloated by snowmelt. Up high in the mountains that same snow lingers. Up and over, high to low, repeatedly thoughout the day. The perfect metaphor for the bizarre weather of March.
On the turntable: Omara Portuondo, "Buena Vista Social Club Presents..."
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