The Northwest times. [volume] (Seattle, Wash.) 1947-1955, 1950-01-11
JAPAN JOURNEY

the left, three knives on the right
and a soup spoon in the plate.
The soup was a thin broth, tn
direct descendant of a pair of bouil
Ion cubes. The second item was +;
plate of fish croquets of which
was most suspicious. In Japan,
like to look my fish right in thei
fishy eyes and make my own deci'
sions. With croquets, like hash, vol
axe a chance. But the steak which
followed was all right. 1t was ten
der and smothered in onions, boil
sizzling hot off the charcoal broiler
Of steaks. I am no great expert, pre-.
'erring to leave my COWS in theil
dairy. but I believe this one woulo
have pleased the connoisseurs.
And I was really sorry that I left
that last helping of French fries or
the platter to go skipping back tc
the kitchen with the maid. The toast
was made of a sort of white bread
but the butter was real, although ]
cannot imagine where they got it
The coffee, when it came, was in a
class with the soup again-very bad
in a sacchariney sort of way, and
the coffee cream came to the table
II the can, which is, after all, Am
erican style of a sort.
The japanese are short of sugar
Last year we dumped our surplus
IN them and they had more sugar
than rice. When they failed to ap-
oreciate the situation. we decided
10 let them do without again.
The dinner was topped off by a
raw apple salad which may have
been refugee from earlier in the
meal or was perhaps a substitute
for apple pie-that Occidental mas
terpiece which is, to me, the only
fitting climax to any American
meal. But after all, the meal was
ample. and I suspect that the cook
did better by it than most American
cooks could by an Oriental meal.
Still it definitely lacked the delicate
touch of good japanese meal. 1t
was American" cooking with a
Nippon accent.
Next morning took a taxi (Which
was great mistake because 1t cost
me 5000 yen to the Observatory
of the Imperial University half way
up the mountain. The seismograph
there had recorded two mild tremors
during the last twenty hours and the
trail up the volcano was marked
CLOSED, extremely dangerous. I
told the lady in charge that I wanted
to go "a little way, and since she
no protest, I started up.
II is pumice cone and timberline
is at 1000 meters. There were many
evidences of the June 10th eruption
but the summit was still hidden in
clouds. AT about 2100 meters, I
reached the edge of the cloud cap
and debated whether or not to turn
back. I knew it was foolish but I
decided to go on. I marked my trail
with long lines which I ploWed in
the ash with my alpine stalk. At
about 1900 meters. only eight hun
dred feet below the crater, a sudden
shift of wind engulfed me in sulphur
fumes. I was already uneasy about
the business SO I turned and ran
down the mountain
At eleven that night. I awakened
and looked out my window. The sky
was perfectly clear and the volcano
stood out sharp and black against
the stars Suddenly there was a
small puff of smoke from the crater,
then another and another. Within
half hour, Asama Yama was going
full blast. The smoke cloud had
reached ten thousand feet and lumi-
nous gases we're belching hundreds
of feet into the air. I watched my
first real volcanic eruption with
fascination; perhaps, was its only
observer In another half hour, it
was over with only a trail of white
smoke drifting from the crater. I
realized that I was shivering with
cold and burroWed into the down
quilts.