Yesterday on my way home I heard for the first time this year the call of a Cicada. This morning I can hear perhaps the same one chirping from somewhere in the trees near the school.
I love that sound. If there were two things I had to give as my strongest memories of my first months in Japan, one would be the call of the Cicadas. For me at least, that sound defines my Japanese experience.
I still remember every day in early August sweltering in my apartment, surrounded by the smell of tatami and the steady squeal of those creepy but lovable bugs. The sound brings me back.
Last night I was returning home on the train and talking to my friendly neighbor. I commented that even though it was a cool evening the train seemed awfully hot. It was pointed out to me that the car we sat in was in fact a "low cooling" train. Apparently there are designated cars on the trains in summer that use less air conditioning than the others. Three years here and I'd had absolutely no idea that something like that existed on JR trains. I realized that the tiny blue sign that I'd seen dozens of times on train doors was actually telling me that I'd gotten into one of these cars.
Indeed, the learning process truly never ceases.