Anna Matsushita

  "Just let the tourists gorge themselves on those overpriced Cotswold afternoon teas!"   This scornful remark came from acquaintances of mine who spent mere few years of their youth living in England some thirty years ago. Having also lived in America for much of their early life, they were no stranger to long-term stays abroad. Still, it struck me as peculiar that someone with only a passing connection to tourism could voice such a seemingly authoritative opinion on the subject.   There’s a curious phenomenon among some who have lived overseas for an extended period, especially in their early childhood. A sense of distinction begins to grow—an invisible line separating themselves from mere tourists. For these individuals, their time abroad elevates them in their own eyes to residents or locals, entirely distinct from transient visitors.   Indeed, the longer the stay, the stronger this mentality tends to become. It’s as though time alone confers an unspo...

  It was about 30 years ago. I was waiting for my plane at the Heathrow airport.   I was on the way back to Japan after studying at a university in UK for a year. The final exam date was not out until last minutes, and it was difficult to fix the day I leave the country.   I booked the seat only 3 days before the flight. As soon as the exams are over, I sent out my text books and belongings from my college room, said goodbye to my friends, and headed for London.   It was slightly late in the afternoon when I arrived at Euston station. I went straight to a youth hostel in city centre, whic had a good access to Piccadilly line which has direct connection to the Heathrow airport.   I slept soundly, and got up early to catch the underground bound for the airport.   After check in, I sat at one of bench in airport lobby, waiting for boarding announcement.   Then, there came a group of soldiers. They were walking in a line, wearing kh...

 One winter, my family and I embarked on a journey to the Canary Islands, situated off the coast of North Africa, to celebrate the year-end holidays. These islands, a bit farther south than the Mediterranean, are renowned for their numerous volcanoes. My destination was one of the islands in the archipelago, Lanzarote. It's a Spanish territory where the predominant language is, unsurprisingly, Spanish. Upon landing at the airport and traversing the island by bus, I beheld many curious sights. I noticed peculiar circular enclosures made of stone, with greenery growing in sunken centers. Our guide explained that these were vineyards. The island, formed from volcanic ash, experiences strong winds, making it challenging to cultivate taller crops. Thus, they construct enclosures with rocks to shield against the wind, creating depressions in the center where grapevines thrive. That day, our group of nearly thirty individuals was meticulously led around by our guide, showcasing variou...

 In my early years, I resided in the Tohoku region of Japan. Near the housing complex nestled in the mountains, there was a forest where various fruits grew.   Among them, the mountain grapes held a special fascination for my young heart. Simply put, they looked delicious. Despite being warned by adults never to eat them, they seemed even more tempting.   During that time, I heard a folktale called "Saru-zake" (Monkey's Wine). It narrated a story of a monkey living in the mountains who hid the mountain grapes he had gathered in a tree hollow. Over time, it miraculously turned into wine. A woodcutter who discovered it tasted the wine, found it incredibly delicious, drank too much, and ended up drunk—such was the essence of the story, if I recall correctly.   This wine made from mountain grapes (Vitis coignetiae) is considered one of Japan's oldest alcoholic beverages archaeologically. Its origins can be traced back to the Jomon period, approximately 10,000...

  A tale from the distant past unfolds when a colleague from the travel agency bid us farewell, prompting the team to gather for a celebratory meal. Opting for the favorite Spanish cuisine of the departing comrade, our second-year colleagues discovered a delightful eatery nearby in Tokyo.   Run by a Spaniard, the restaurant was conveniently close to the office, and on that day, they had arranged a private room for our group. As we indulged in classic paella and fine wines, the jovial atmosphere escalated, and the affable owner inquired if we desired anything more. It was then that someone exclaimed, "We'd love some sangria!"   The proprietor's momentary hesitation upon hearing this request left me a lasting impression. Returning from the kitchen, the owner presented us with three large pitchers of sangria. Brimming with oranges and other fruits, this chilled concoction was a refreshing delight for our somewhat inebriated selves.   However, the lingering expression of...

Many years ago, during my stay in the UK, I became aware that pubs offered cidre , known as "cider" in English. However, for reasons I didn’t quite understand, my British acquaintances strongly discouraged me from ordering it. They claimed it was not something young people should drink, that it wouldn’t suit Japanese taste buds, and that Japanese people weren’t accustomed to strong alcohol, which they believed cider to be. Their insistence that "it doesn’t suit Japanese palates" left me puzzled. Despite their claimed familiarity with Japan, they seemed determined to dissuade me from trying cider. Looking back, I wonder if they had a negative experience recommending it to a Japanese person in the past and were simply trying to avoid disappointing me. Several decades later, I finally had the opportunity to savour British-made apple cider. A Tokyo-based restaurant featured about eight varieties of cider on its menu. Remembering my earlier encounter in the UK, I was det...

Scotland: The First Encounter with Haggis and Whiskey   On a family trip to Scotland many years ago, we ventured into the crisp embrace of the Scottish Highlands. Despite it being late August, the weather was already chilly, rendering our summer attire woefully inadequate.   Our journey began in Edinburgh, and after some sightseeing, we boarded a train heading towards Inverness, where a newly opened hotel awaited us. Upon our arrival, the hotel manager—a gracious and attentive woman—greeted us warmly. She shared a wealth of information about the hotel's facilities as we settled into our rooms. Keen to shake off the stiffness of the long train journey, we decided to take a refreshing dip in the hotel's pool.   By dinnertime, we were led to the hotel’s restaurant, where a three-course meal awaited. The manager, ever attentive, pointed out that the salad vegetables were freshly harvested that very morning from a nearby farm.   When the main course arrive...

Once, there was a remarkable lady called Mrs P. She had been working at a Japanese company in London for many years, and everyone adored her personality—humorous, fun-loving, and relaxed. Throughout her long career, she was never one to boast, and her charm endeared her to all who knew her. One day, a member of the company organised a barbecue at Mrs P’s house, which turned into a delightful gathering. About twenty of us attended, including children, and everyone enjoyed the festive atmosphere. Drinks were poured for a toast, and the host worked diligently at the grill. Soon, the aroma of sizzling meat and roasted vegetables filled the air. On this occasion, the host had prepared a wide variety of beverages, including wine, beer, soft drinks, and whisky. Each of us picked our favourite to accompany the barbecue feast. Midway through the event, I found myself chatting with Mrs P and grew curious about the drink she was holding. In her hand was a whiskey glass filled with a transparent l...

 One spring, long ago, I stayed in Ireland for a month with a group of friends. We travelled extensively around the country and spent about a week in Dublin. With plenty of time at our disposal, some of us decided to visit Inishmore, one of the Aran Islands off Ireland’s west coast.   The Aran Islands, comprising Inishmore, Inisheer, and Inishmaan, are renowned for their rugged beauty and as the birthplace of the iconic Aran jumpers, famous for their intricate cable patterns. These islands hold a certain charm for knitters and history enthusiasts alike.   Our journey began with a long coach ride from Dublin to Galway, the gateway to the Aran Islands and the departure point for the ferries. Galway itself is a delightful city, known as the birthplace of the Claddagh ring, a popular Irish souvenir. The ring’s distinctive design—a heart crowned and held by two hands—symbolises love, loyalty, and friendship. It is often used as an engagement ring. I recall seeing this ...

  Our local shrine’s festival resumed for the first time in three years. Streets were once again jolly with illuminated lanterns. Kids were playing wood flute and drums to add festive feeling. They were performing the music in front of train station. People enjoyed the music in the evening.   I assume that the shrine must have planned the festival when the number of corona patients were decreasing daily – at least until June 2022. People must have put much effort into the preparation, looking forward once again to practice the music, drew out the portable shrine (Omikoshi) ready to be carried around the town, and float to carry the music bands.   Before COVID-19, the festival was like these;   https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1oWNuFH-CIg https://youtu.be/97cu-n3QXrc I watched the children playing music with somewhat mixed feeling. By the time the festival started, the number of COVID-19 patients were increasing at tremendous speed. I was tracking onl...