Atami

I spent the last few days in Atami, at my uncle's shack in the mountains. I met his neighbors who had four Dalmations! They don't live there. They live in Gotanda, or maybe some other place in Tokyo, with three of their Dalmations. Their daughter is a year younger than me, and saw The Strokes perform at Fuji Rock Festival. It was the first time I saw my aunt and uncle in a social setting besides any family mumbo jumbo, and it was surprising to see how gregarious they could be. Before, I thought my uncle was awkward, just a little, or self-concious, but in the mountain he made jokes that were slightly offensive, but with good intentions. He did, however, remain as self-righteous as he always has been: his car that climbs up the narrow roads, the coffee maker, blah, blah. My aunt was friendly, as always, but seemed at ease in the mountain even though she had to get up at 5:30 in the morning to catch the train that would get her to Nakameguro by 8. Her co-worker's father had passed away, and she was going to his funeral. All our meals were outside, we went swimming in the ocean, climbed up the mountain (in my uncle's car), went to the bath, saw the stars, I got to read my book (The Poisonwood Bible), and take naps, drink aloe goya banana milk shakes. I guess I'm mentioning this because, well because it's so new to me. Not their place in Atami, but that part of their lives to me is new. Everyone has had the past few days off in memory of the war, and soldiers who fought in it, and pretty much everyone has a grave they can go visit. But we went to the mountain and spent a couple nights.