Day 1: Obihiro or 雨女

Bill (Left) and Bella (Right)

It rained all day.

We sat in the car. Yamagiwa San driving, me in the passenger seat, Ellie right at the back. The two dogs - Bill and Bella - relaxing in the cushioned luxury of the middle seats. We drove past the famous tourist spots of Lake Toya - the volcanic lake, framed by mountains rages - and saw nothing. We drove on mountain roads across valleys and passes and endless sweeping forests of autumn leaves - and saw nothing. We drove across the wide plains and marshlands outside Obahiro, the roaring Pacific ocean opening up to our left like a thick grey carpet- and saw nothing. Everything was fog and cloud. Yamagiwa San would explode with an occasional 'Bad weather!' 'Pointless!' 'Damn it!' but it didn't change anything.

Ellie explained that she was an 雨女. A Japanese word which means roughly 'a woman who always brings rain'. If we had known, could we have performed some sort of magic rite to expel the rain-demon inside of her?

The Rain Woman aka Ellie on an Ainu throne

We went to another Ainu musem and walked around the old fishing boats and weaving machines and wooden ornaments. There were books in the shop which taught the Ainu language - the examples about Grandmother's going out to look for mushrooms or picking berries.

In Obahiro, Yamagiwa San drove over a parking block in the multi-storey car park and burst the front tyre of the car. So we arrived at the hotel in a state of alarm and vexation - the dogs whining because they were hungry, the car limping on a flat wheel, and all of us tired and bored after five hours in the car. "I have to see to the dogs! I have to see to the dogs!" Yamagiwa San repeated, the pathetic yelping from the back seats like needles in his heart.

Our morning stop at the garage

In the evening, we doused our sorrows with beer and sake in an Izakaya. Yamagiwa San ordered traditional Izakaya food for us - raw fish stomach in soy sauce, raw squid and wasabi, deep-fried pig intestines, sashimi and roasted chicken livers on skewers. He chatted to strangers who came and went, sitting next to us in the bar, talking about the weather, about how we were his daughters and don't we look alike? He talked about old friends, trips to America, and cracked terrible jokes which I only understood five minutes later - (e.g. punning Beer is 'poison' or Beer is 'a healer' in Japanese) - and repeatedly mourned the flat tyre.

Walking the dull, even and empty streets of Obihiro, we arrived back late at the hotel. Yamagiwa San excusing himself to go and say goodnight to the dogs.