Enjoying a meal with old friends in a tiny, 4 table, Japanese-Italian restaurant. Brazilian Jazz plays in the background. A typhoon rages outside. We sample the unexpected flavor of edamame gelato.
After paying a bill that may require some people to join our meal on the expense report, we head outside to find that there is a lull in the storm. A gust of wind grabs Jason's umbrella and turns it inside out just as we decide to walk to the station. We joke about the hotel not being happy with how he has taken care of the borrowed "kasa".
As we walk up the street we see other white plastic umbrellas that have been similarly treated and discarded (or torn from hands). And then we see more. And more. Each more decimated than the last. We begin to laugh as the number of dead umbrella seems to increase the more we move up the hill. Then, we reach the top and look down a side street. All three of us burst into hysterics. Its a virtual massacre! Dozens of cheap umbrellas have fallen victim to the storm and lay to rest in a sort of urban umbrella cemetery.
...Japan
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