Music in the Mountains, Part 2007

Well, I've been there and back again. The 2007 edition of our music club's summer training camp has come and gone.

This year I wasn't given any time for my jazz band to practice. The bulk of the schedule was monopolized by the concert band to prepare for the Prefectural Championship (fanfare with lots of dissonant harmony and complex rhythms), which would happen in the afternoon of the day the training camp ended. Even though I understood the reasons, I was still pretty upset about it. However, I was given a lot of other things to do, much more responsibility than usual, so I didn't really have any time to fret about it. The one afternoon of free time also gwugged and went to make time for more practice, so we were engaged almost the whole time. There was hardly any room to think...let alone take pictures. (Sorry, Agus!)

I'm not going to bother going into blow-by-blow details, partly to avoid another potential scandal (though the spies don't seem to be visiting lately), partly because I've been there before, and partly because there aren't all that many interesting things to talk about. Instead, I'll just stick to a few events and my impressions connected with them.

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So here I am, on country roads.

Yes, the expressway would probably be faster.
I've chosen to take the country roads.

Yes, the expressway would probably be straighter,
A much easier path to follow.
I still prefer to take the country roads.

I could have ridden the bus;
I could have laughed with the students,
Stared out the window, taken a quiet nap.
I'm happy here, in my BLUE RAV4, on the country roads.

Next to me is Chuck, my friend and new coworker,
Behind me the wife of the Maestro,
Two cellos, two violins, four clarinets, a sax,
Assorted boxes and bags,
The cargo I'm hauling on the country roads.

How quickly the world changes,
From the sprawling fields of Kashima,
Through the urban sprawl of Mito,
And into the hills, trees, and architecture
Of a place we don't know,
Flashing past us along the country roads.

It's not exactly quiet here;
In two languages, the conversation rolls on by.
On my audio system, like a sort of war:
My Mannheim Steamroller often interrupted
By Chuck's Jonathan Coulton
And my navigator's soulless female voice
Guiding me down the country roads.

Just one stop for rest room, coffee,
And on our way we go,
Through Tochigi's famed rice fields
We soon leave far below.
High in mountains, deep in forest,
Sparkling water flows.
The pin on my navi-map edging nearer,
Our goal at the end of the country roads.

They call this a town, but I see only trees.
Those signs I do see are all brown,
For we are deep inside Nikko National Park,
And we're getting near this mountain's crown.
We arrive at our goal, park the car, go on in,
But the buses and truck are not there.
I'm guessing we've left them two hours behind,
And that gives us some time to prepare.
They're still somewhere out there on the country roads.

And so Mrs. Ogawa, Chuck, and I
Set to work moving tables and chairs.
When the kids get here they'll have an easier time
Hauling all that equipment upstairs.
Chuck is half Korean, maybe looks Japanese;
The clerk shows me his back, speaks to him,
I fear there will be many more scenes like these,
Not much point going out on a limb.
We'll see how this year's summer goes
Up here on the country roads.

Up here in the mountains, on country roads.