When you come to Japan you are bound to find yourself in unexpected situations. You are bound to have an abnormal experience or two ...or three ...hence the photo above. Thinking I was prepared for whatever an innocent-sounding cherry-blossom-viewing-party may present me with, I unwittingly became an ambassador of not just my country, but also of the good ol' US of A. Yah. Here's how:

My co-worker Miki-sensei graciously invited me and my parents to come to a hanami, or lunch under the sakura, the cherry blossoms. This is a tradition that Japanese people love to observe, as it heralds the beginning of Spring... the light at the end of winter's tunnel. These parties are often sake-fuelled times of merriment/passing out as my parents and I were to see for ourselves later on in Tokyo. Anyway, the event we attended was nothing so base - we were treated to a nice boxed lunch in the grounds of a beautiful garden. It was hosted by a non-profit organisation that promotes world peace.

Miki picked us up in her cool black van (equipped with camera for reversing and the usual satellite navigation that even shows where convenience stores are!) and we headed to a botanical garden on Mount Rokko.

A path of polished black pebbles led us to a building with a large tatami-matted room quickly filling with people. A small orchestra of koto or Japanese harps were set up ready for a performance. How perfect!

The first sign something was up was when I was pulled aside before I could stake my patch of tatami. As I had been introduced to an organiser, a thought like this had hatched:

"Hmmm, there's a real Australian here? He can raise the Australian flag in the ceremony for world peace!"

Would I? Uh, sure I guess so, doesn't sound too complicated. I was led around the side and queued with the other flag bearers, ready to walk out into the garden facing everyone in the room. I was then moved to the head of the queue and told I was to be first. Ah nuts, I thought... this is only going to get worse... and my intuition served me well... I was then told I was to say some things: May peace prevail on earth. May peace be in Australia. Okay Ian, don't sweat it... you can handle that.

"Oh, and can you also be America? "

"Yeah, sure... (whatever... )."

Miki could see the joy in my face and was mouthing the words "I'M SORRY!!!". Anyway, my turn came and I stood on the designated large flat stone, was handed a microphone and given a nod and an expectant smile.

"May pea.."

"No, your name. Please introduce yourself."

"Uh... my name is Ian."

"And where are you from?"

"Sydney... Shideni."

After a murmur of novelty-delight I delivered my lines, withdrew from the stone and took my place at the end of the queue to receive my Star-spangled banner. (I really hope you're not reading this, Gairden... I can almost hear you sharpening your castration kit for my return to Oz).

Anyway, Dad was right. There is no such thing as a free lunch! Nah, I shouldn't say that. After I was over the shock of social near-death I was free to enjoy a traditional tea ceremony, a beautiful obento lunch and the mesmerising sound of the koto.

But more misadventure was waiting. This was all actually on a Saturday - the last working day of my week before going on holidays with my folks. I had to get to work. We all bundled back into Miki's black shuttle only to find the battery was dead flat. I won't publish the words I was thinking but I'll just say I was a little beside myself. I was due at my first class mith my manager on duty in half an hour and I was on the wrong side of Rokko-zan, a bloomin' big mountain. Freak.

Poor Miki felt terrible, when all she had done was go to a lot of trouble for us to arrange such a rare Japan experience. Her organiser friend flew into action. The beautiful kimono, diminutive figure and gentle face were obviously hiding a truck-load of pluck. We jumped into her left-hand drive BMW and we quickly left Miki, her immobile mobile and the garden shrinking in our mirrors. She spoke enough English to ask me when my class started. When I said in 20 minutes time, I could feel her step on the accelerator. In that stupid way that you do in such circumstances I said "ah, daijoubu" (it's okay, really!), and she politely dismissed my failure to grasp reality with the slightest gesture of her hand. She was all class. When we got lost at a junction she pulled over, jumped out and flagged down the little van behind to ask its long-haired dude of a driver for directions.

We got to school 5 minutes late. I bolted up the stairs to a silently fuming manager. The student wasn't there yet. Praise the Lord! Another 5 minutes later the mother of my student came in, offering me a wallet. It was mine. I had dropped it on the footpath in my hurried goodbye and flight into the building. It's contents were intact... about $1500 dollars, ready for our trip. Yikes.

Yes, proof my parents were here! I think I'm the one that needs proof the most - bizarre to think it's already a month since they left. Next to my Mum is Miki and on the end is her friend, the lady who sped us to my work. Despite the stressful beginning and end, in between it was a fantastic experience. Miki's kindness is typical of the best of Japan's hospitality.

The tea ceremony. Apparently we were especially treated to see the tradtional leaf-tea ceremony. Nowadays, it is most common to see the making of powdered tea. When I say powdered I don't mean like instant coffee. The leaves have been powderised and hence a different process is needed to make the drink. You forget that what you are watching is the making of a drink (to the point where I was surprised when I was presented with a cup of tea!) - there are so many little points of decorum - most of which I'm sure us gaijin were oblivious too. The obvious things you observe are the hand movements, the way the utensils are held, moved around, rotated, cleaned, placed back on the tray etc... and what we saw was a less formal form! I imagine that Japanese people love to show this art to outsiders, but also love the exclusivity of it - "I'm going to show you something, but I know that no matter how much of it I explain, there's only so far you'll be able to enter into it". I don't resent that - it's part of this place's mystique. I'm still not sure what you distill all this down to - I believe it's something like taking an arbitrary moment in time and making it, well, sacred. The way that you are served is quite humbling - I'm sure in the context of a relationship where servant and servee are well-acquainted that that aspect is much more poignant.

I love this photo, and no, I'm not blowing my own trumpet - it's Dad's. It's seems straight from the pages of National Geographic.

This sakura bean-cake was served with the tea. I didn't think to photograph it before I'd shoved a slice of it into my gob. I especially liked the bamboo sliver that you eat it with.

The koto. Sorry I am such a details person, but I couldn't get an angle on the whole thing that I liked. The ivory-looking frets/bridges aren't fixed - to tune the strings, they are shifted up or down. Amazing sounds.

I thought this shot was too good to be true... but... have you noticed that there wasn't a single cherry-blossom to be seen? We were too early! But come they did - I'll show you next post.

On my way to work with Mum (and Dad behind the camera), in front of the train station. As you can see, the beginning of Spring is still pretty cool. This year it was downright cold! Check out the snow that we saw below at the end of March!

Another great shot, Dad. Crazy weather. A few weeks after this, one day it hit 29 degrees.

Well, this is your honourary (next-best-thing-to-an) American signing out.

May peace prevail on earth.