The Further Adventures of an Idiot Abroad (47 page)

I prefer multiple choice when it comes to questions, then at least you have a chance of getting the answer right. I did a Mensa test and got 83%. Most of those questions were answered on gut
feeling. My gut seems to know more than my brain at times. More proof is the fact that my brain thought it was a good idea to put the funazushi in my mouth whereas my stomach chucked it out.

I gave Matsuama a puzzle to work on, too, which went, ‘What gets wet as it dries?’ He didn’t know the answer but said he would think about it.

Finally, we got round to doing what I came for. Some meditation. He told me the rules. I thought it would also be good for Matsuama to meditate and clear his mind. Maybe it would stop him
forgetting that he’s already mopped up.

He told me that posture and the breathing technique was very important and said I must sit up straight and take no more than two to three deep breaths every minute. I had to keep my eyes looking
straight ahead and clear my mind of thoughts and slowly count. I was just about to try and get in the zone when he showed me a big stick that is used to whack Buddhists on the back by the master if
they flinch or fall asleep.

He explained what the stick was for: ‘So, when I start the meditation I will hit this wooden stick once and this hum bell four times. After this hum bell please do not speak on any
occasion, right? Even if a mosquito comes, or somebody is crying, or thunder is coming, please do not speak out.’

It’s good to try and clear the head. It was the only thing left of mine that needed clearing as the funazushi had cleared my gut and the amount of Strepsils I’d been eating had
cleared my sinuses. My mind has too much going on in it and needs sorting out. I think it’s close to capacity, as I’m starting to forget a lot of things. I think this is the case for
most people these days. People used to just need small reminders stuck on a fridge door, but now, look at the size of most fridges, they’re massive. It isn’t to hold more food,
it’s to hold more reminders. The amount of PIN numbers and account numbers stuck on our fridge looks like Carol Vorderman’s been doing the numbers game.

The thing with my memory is, there’s a part of it that remembers that I’ve forgotten something but then can’t remember what it is. I just wish it would forget the thing
altogether, so I don’t forget more things because I’ve spent too long trying to remember the thing I forgot in the first place.

I was managing to keep still and quiet. I got bored of counting though and wondered if Matsuama had ever considered doing mime artist work. He could do meditating while making money from
tourists. I don’t know why we entertain the idea of human statues, the streets are busy enough without having people standing about getting in the way. I’ve always found it odd how
tourists take photographs of mime artists. Everyone looks like a mime in a photo.

The meditation did help with my invention though, as it was at this point I had my eureka moment. All the time I had been in Japan I had been faced with sitting on hard floors, which is fine for
a short while, but if you’re out eating it could be well over an hour. I wonder if this is another reason they are more advanced. They do less sitting around on their arse than we do
’cos we have too much comfort. They’ll get up and invent. So, the invention I came up with was a trouser with a cushioned arse. We don’t need them as much at home, as we have
chairs, but I still think they will have their uses. Good for people at church who have to sit on hard pews, good for festival goers who have to sit on damp grass as the cushion will offer a gap
between ground and arse, builders on their lunch breaks, ramblers who stop for lunch on wet grass. I would have come up with more uses but was interrupted by an ant that crawled around on me ankle,
which caused me to flinch a little bit. Matsuama stood up, got his stick and whacked me twice on my back. It really stung. I didn’t speak ’cos I thought that would lead to more whacks.
I thought we’d be clearing our heads. The way he was carrying on, he’d be lucky if he got cleared of manslaughter.

Fifteen minutes later, he hit the bell and the session was over, and while he was probably imagining being a mop, I had come up with my invention. Result.

Matsuama asked if I would like a cup of tea. I said I would love one. I’m a big fan of tea. On special occasions it’s nice to have it out of a pot with some toast or
a tea cake, but I’m quite fussy about the way I like it. If someone offers to make me one I normally find something in the room that is the right shade of brown that I want my tea to match,
which can be difficult in this day and age as brown is not a trendy colour. In the 70s I would have had the full range of brown shades on offer in most households. As we went for the tea we were
followed by five women. He said they would be joining us. ‘Great, innit,’ I said. ‘Where were they when the mopping wanted doing?’

We had to enter another room for the tea. As I went through the doorway I had to kneel down and bow and then make my way to the back. As always, there were no chairs. (Note: add tea ceremony to
list of potential customers for cushioned pants.) I sat down next to Matsuama. One of the elders of the group of women then sat by some pots and utensils, one of which looked like a shaving brush.
We sat in silence and watched as she prepared then mixed the tea powder. Every movement was very precise and calmly done, as if she was handling a newborn baby. Now, I’m a fan of not rushing
the making of tea – there’s nothing worse than a tea bag that hasn’t had time to brew – but this went on for over twenty minutes. She could never have a cafe running at this
speed, as the queue would be out the door. Maybe this is why they have cat cafes. You can stroke them to relieve the stress caused by pissing about hanging around for a cup of tea.

I was gasping. Matsuama told me it had taken the woman 25 years to learn this process of making tea. It felt like I’d been there with her for a good part of that time. I wanted to suggest
that maybe she needs to switch from tea powder to tea bags to help speed up the process.

There was nothing in the room I could use to give my shade of brown, which was just as well. When she poured it into my cup, it was green. I am not a fan of green tea, but I didn’t fancy
waiting another 25 minutes while she brewed a different pot. She handed out some sweets to go with the tea before pouring. You then have to give a bow.

Matsuama then went through this procedure which I can’t remember but involved turning the cup clockwise three or four times and then back a few. It was like cracking a safe. You then take
time to enjoy the design of the cups we were drinking from. Then it was time to drink. It was quite bitter, but the sweet that came with it helped the taste. Once we’d drunk the tea we sat
and talked about the blends of tea that I liked. Lipton’s, PG Tips and, my favourite, Twinings English Breakfast. And Typhoo, that I have a box of, for when builders are round as they drink
tea non-stop. I then reminded Matsuama that he had not answered my riddle: ‘What gets wet as it dries?’ He didn’t know. I asked the ladies at the tea ceremony. They didn’t
know either. I told them the answer; it was a tea towel. The answer is normally just towel, but I thought I’d keep it in theme with the party. They seemed to like it. I really enjoyed the
evening of drinking tea. I think it relaxed me more than the meditation. It’s something we tend to rush at home. Sometimes I’m that busy doing something else I forget to drink my tea,
whereas it was all about the tea here. I liked the way we didn’t speak the same language and were from different parts of the world but tea brought us together. I left before they washed up
though ’cos Christ knows how long that takes them.

It was the day of the climb. I hadn’t slept well, as my room was really, really hot due to me not being able to turn off the heated toilet seat. It was hard-wired and none
of the switches seemed to have any effect. I could have dried socks on it, it was so hot. I lay there for hours getting stressed about not sleeping, knowing I had a big day ahead of me climbing
Mount Fuji. There was a plate on the wall with an image of the peak of Mount Fuji sticking up above the clouds painted on it. Maybe it wasn’t an ornament. It could have been a plate rack
making use of what tiny space the room had. I think the small living spaces are what make Japan so keen to create nanotechnology. The problem I have with smaller electronic stuff is that it’s
easier to steal. A robber can now walk into a home and take away your whole entertainment system in his pockets. We’ve made it easy for thieves. Big and heavy is good. That’s why
Stonehenge has not been nicked after all these years.