I got yelled at this morning by a geezer from Japan who strode out of a bath to tell me I had no manners as I did not have a little towel to cover my “private parts.”  I thanked him and told him he was, “very helpful,” and enjoyed at least my ironic contribution to the conversation.  FYI: None of the young men in the bath had the little towels!

Can you guess why the geezer felt it was necessary to provide a lesson on polite behavior?  Hint: He didn’t need a towel; a credit-card would do.

Meanwhile, on a positive note, yesterday was rather glorious in this remote mountain village inside the national park where bears roam without towels.

A walk beside a sulfurous valley of vents spewing steam and air that smelled of boiling eggs, then into a deciduous forest.  Followed by lunch of soba.  One with ebi tempura, and one with kamo.  Cold beers, hot baths, long naps.

Kaiseki dinner with sake: Fish, vegetables, chicken, beef.  Tiny, delicious portions.

Tried to make headway with Soseki, his novel, “The Gate,” and passed out.