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11 October 2009
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News & Events
Late spring or early autumn, boiling-hot summer or bone-freezing winters - you name it, for there's no season in the history of my short and glorious life to have escaped unblemished by the bothersome and tiresome act of moving out.
There have been both well-ahead planned relocation and the pack-it-up-and-go kind of action during these years and I tasted them all, although I can't say the same about enjoying them. Nevertheless, one thing is certain: they taught me something about keeping thrash out, things boxed, and travel light.
These teachings showed their value once again today when, in preparation for the day after tomorrow's morning - and in a little more than a couple of hours -, we boxed-up pretty much everything that needed to be put in boxes. The rest, and it really isn't much of it, goes like it is, although I could easily disassemble pieces of furniture like my computer tables, bookshelves, or even the bed. But that's not what I intend to do, and that's why we pay the moving company the money we pay...
Looking now at the pile of wrapped up boxes in the corner of the dining kitchen, I'm once again reminded of how little people really need. These are our earthly belongings, I'm thinking; two lives, taking just a few cubic meters of space; and none of them is really, truly essential to our well-being. We just like to fool ourselves into thinking some of them are, don't we?
That said, tomorrow is our last day of the Nishigamo-jidai, as we call it in the family. Before this almost one and a half year, there was a Kamigamo-jidai, a Senbon-jidai, and a Gojo-jidai. That is, in the five years we spent in the old imperial capital, we lived in four places and moved three times. Funny, but this is the point where I have to admit that I feel I've been slowing down. Put in perspective by an earlier period in my life in Bucharest for example, this rate of changing homes is definitely a marked improvement.
Anyway, our next home will hopefully prove to be the longer lasting sort and, aside from the wish part, I have reasons to believe it could be just like this. It's a house, not an apartment; it's where I'd like to live, and not where I'd have (or happen) to; and it's out of town which, considering the forever northwards path we've traced through the city these years, appears to be only a logical next step.
In the end, let us say goodbye to this special place that is Kyoto. We'll be back visiting, one sunny spring day to see the cherry in full blossom, or maybe one bright winter day to see the Golden Pavilion capped in white snow. I don't know when, but we will.
This, I suppose, will be my last entry written on the banks of Kamogawa. Time to change the scrolls.




