A MEMORY OF JAPAN

New Zealand Times, Volume XXIX, Issue 6176, 6 April 1907, Page 8

A MEMORY OF JAPAN

(By "Lola.”) • “Oliaya!” The Japanese salaam. flie scent of Japan's aromatic weed, and the groups of brown warriors wandering through our streets revived memories of a stay in the Land of the Chrysanthemum. , I landed there as curious to see the Jap at home as ho is to peep into every hole and corner of interest ashore in our ports, lie is unlihe the rest ol dwellers in the East. lie, is of a happier disposition. Innocent, cluld-lilce light-hcarteduess pervades both city and country life. The coolies, the toilers, and even the women who coal the ships from daylight until the wee brown bundles of infants remind them with t heir piping cries that they are sunburnt, all suggests an air of goodhumour. . . , Japan is the babies laradiso, and a countrv where the reverence for old age strikes the visitor as much as the Jap’s love of his beloved Fujiama. The family quiver is generally a pretty tuu one in Japan, and as soon as one member of it is able to battle his way on the street playground, he has to pick-a-back a younger branch of the tami.J tree Ho joins iu the sports with Jus pals, who likewise have little brothers strapped on their hacks, as safely as if they wore in the arms of their mr,-ers. X remember once seeing a form of paner-chase near Nikko one or Japan’s loveliest spots, and one at which Japan swells its chest withpude -with a large "field” of these human steeds leaping fences as nimbly a» steeplechasers, with these tiny Nimrod, on their backs safer than anj; lod Sloau would be. . , The children practically live in Ine streets. Thev swarm in every thoroughfare like rabbits 'round their burrows. But the Japanese "burrow” reminds one of a big match-box with tiny paper windows —no chimney, and a puzzle to find a front door. When you do get an entrance, after leaving your No. 3 prunellas on the doorstep, you wonder if the baililt has made a raid on things, ion see a padded matting on ihe floor, a few flat cushion®, perhaps a firo pot for cigarette lighting, and a brass Hhudda. Doors •Llmr© are none, and walls slide between the living room and the sleeping apartments. A. wooden head-vest and a padded kimona, and you have the properties to litre tho Japanese to his slumber. Tho Japanese women aren't cooks. They don't embroider; they don't pnmt; but they do have "little ways. They charm you right there. They flutter round as unobtrusively aa butterflies. They play with kites; they'shop in the moat leisurely fashion. Their greetings, their goasipings, nr© childish, and these iirtle grev-kimonaed forms appeal to one, even to a” woman, as playthings, although monv are well educated and speak the English tongue with an excellent accent. The lady barber is one of the busiest in the land. She perambulates between her customers for shampooing and haudreooart in this land of the geisha—with her tiny leather case of imnlen ents as regularly as the milkman calls. \\ nich recalls the sighing for nu.k ho!” when off the beaten tracks m tho Fair Isle of Japan. Dale green tea was my daily poison. In everv cloisonne shop, in every embroidery establishment \ inspected, upon every call I made the first form of etiquette and welcome was the midget bowl of wishy-washy, Invariably I didn't drink it. Dining or trving to din© at a Japanese restaurant means hunger and a vacuum. Mv first chance of a meal on the ncor happened in Tokyo, after a long nmrnine- of interest when I hod heard h tearoom geisha at her lesson on the ecmi-san accompanying tho we.rd do-me-ra-sol one hears from thesy soft-spoken Unv snecimeiis of femininity, and, had watched a mysterious dramatic-looking dance by a" set of famous terpsicoreans. A of three, nth an appetite for six. wo were escorted on our arrival at the resiaurnnt to a furn.itureles’S room, where a nright firojss Buddha- occupied a corner. Cushions, on which we were to squat, wore s-attered over tho floor. We gingerly dot down, after many groans from a stout member of our trio. A miniature Hebe with mincing stops and a beaming smile* of coquetry, appeared before us for our order. In our best Japanese, dished from a guide hook, we led the morse] of charm to understand . we desired something to eat. Peals of laughter at her exit told us she had a sense of humour, and was letting it run riot. We were hurt, but still hungry. Our waitress soon appeared in hopes of satisfying us with three miniature trays, on which three miniature bowte were carried. Th© confeuts were clear ©oup with a poached egg floating about # like a water lily. There iver» chop-sticks “to manipulate this dish of Japan. After a few unsuccessful peckiugs with th© wooden skewers we seized ; our opportunity when Snietto turned her bpclc. and gulped the mixture- Scarcity of size marked every course, and the raw | chopped-un vegetable® would have covered [ a piece. ■ Th© city rickshaw man in Japan leads you astray. He pretends to have the intelligence of th© London Policeman, but you soon find he hasn't. He ©mil'*©, too, r nd distilays «mall mines of gold tooth ©toppings. They wer© the only reliable things about him.