A fisherman is out early for the day’s catch.

I noted on the ride that lots of the homes seem to have been built during Japan’s boom period in the mid to late 1980s, giving the city and older atmosphere. Much like New Orleans, the people don’t easily cast out old things. Instead, things like temples—which can easily be many hundreds of years old— are gently restored and or are allowed to fall in to a sort of ruin, consistent with the wabi-sabi aesthetic native to Japan which accepts that which is in decay and imperfect as having value and or refinement. Unlike the images you might readily associate with Japan, Matsue doesn’t have a railway system to move about town or easy access to the Shinkansen (bullet-train). Instead, most everyone drives, carpools, or catches the bus, which I hear is unreliable.

Our New Orleans delegation dressed in kimono.

After Natsuko dropped me off, a sort of gravity took over the trip that and me and the other TOMODACHIs fell into, the precise machine that fuels Japanese planning and scheduling. That morning we visited city hall and were treated to beautiful lecture by Professor Bon Koizumi, the great-grandson of the international writer, Lafcadio Hearn, whose legacy links New Orleans and Matsue. In it, he told the story of Hearn’s life and how his curious, wandering spirit led him from his native Ireland, through America, and ultimately in Japan where he would go on to write series of books on the subject of Japan. We even visited his home in Matsue. As representatives from New Orleans, we were also invited to participate in “Little Mardi Gras”, a condensed, yet spirited Japanese take on Mardi Gras that happens annually in Autumn. I dressed up as a gladiator and danced half-naked and triumphant on the streets of Matsue, handing Mardi Gras throws to bemused onlookers.