Slightly warmer. But still not enough for sandals.

Unable to help myself, I plunged back into hippydom at the local park. I cant seem to stop the clickery when the leaves go all aka. Maybe Ive gone all aka in the atama. I blame the weather. And those damn F-18 flying Americans, with all the booming and roaring and carrying on. Meh.

Hey! This is kiro, not aka! Kuso!

Not too many large dogs to be seen here. Maybe because the poo bags (what’d you call me?) are only available in small sizes. Or the chiisai houses. Or maybe large dogs are less efficient.

I dont subscribe to the notion that a red bag enables you to sneak up on the tree to take a photo before it realises you are there. In fact I prefer to whirl like a dervish and shriek like a banshee, so the tree has ample warning of my intentions. Doesnt sit too well with the natives, but I havent heard the trees complaining. Too much.

Here’s a new one. It’s a tree. With red leaves. That’s right. Purdy.

For a short time the train drowned out my whirling and shrieking. Only a short time, so dont worry – Im ok. Anyway, how are you?

Here are some nice seats, so you can relax under a tree with red leaves. Whilst people go to the toilet behind you. Hopefully using the facilities provided.

Mitte! Mitte! One of the red-leafed trees has escaped from the park!

Dont worry – turbo here will catch the other one.

These yellow fellows (heh) glowed in the sunlight for about three weeks in an almost ethereal manner. Then it blew like a (whatever!) a couple of days ago and now the trees are naked as a (whatever!) on Grand Finals night. I think nature decided that they were getting a bit smarmy in their finery. Also, a frigid anti-cyclone blew over from the Asian mainland. “Gosh – it’s brisk!”, is probably what I may have exclaimed at the time, given my well known aversion to profanity.

After the excitement of our adventures in the park, we stepped out for some Minami Machida night action. Here is a blurry capture of the madness of Route 16 when the sun has Run To The Hills. The apartment building (manshon in the local parlance) in the background actually has no residents. But they can leave the lights on because we dont have to worry about running out of power here. Ahh – plutonium. Or uranium. Ha ha – I said!

This is looking toward Yokohama. Dont be shy. Say Konbanwa.

And this is west, toward… ahh… China.

Leave it to Japan to provide an efficient way to get off of the bridge.

Im pretty sure that it is easier to sneak up on a tree at night, but I whirled and shrieked anyway.

Little did the locals realise, that a nattily behatted gaijin was skulking about, stealing stouls in the early evening gloom.

Of Doom!

More gloom… And then…

…the dazzling wonderousness of the bicycle parking lot. Here wait the steeds of the Bikers of the Night. Most have Baskets of the Night on the handlebars.

Not just any bicycle parking lot. This one is beholden to Gland Belly itself. Which is all snazzed up for Xmas.

Local folklore suggests that if you wish to find an Eskimo, firstly check beneath the glowing tree.

I sat beneath this glowing tree, but the Eskimo were scarce. Perhaps startled by my whirling and shrieking.

The excitement of glowing trees lessened somewhat, but may return when I find another Eskimo.

Now there’s a funny word to put on your shop.

The quickest way home happens to pass one of the local Ferrari dealerships, which is a shame…