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A
Japanese moment
Appreciating
cultural differences; By Sheryl Taylor-Munro
When Mr. Tanaka announced he was coming for a visit, my husband and I
discussed how best to entertain him. As a colleague of my husband, we had taken him on his previous Canadian trips to many of the
favored tourist spots, including Niagara Falls. It was March, normally not a
good time for outdoor activities; but then I hit upon a brilliant idea (if I do say so myself): the three of us would enjoy the
quintessentially 'Canadian Moment'-- sugaring-off -- at a small village about an hour's drive north of our home.
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Each year the Maple Sugar Festival recruits scores of volunteers, outfitting them as pioneers from the 18th century, for demonstrating the
traditional method of preparing maple syrup. While buckets hang from every tree to catch the precious drops, men carry giant iron kettles and
suspend them from posts over bonfires. Boys fetch and empty sap buckets into the kettles for young women to stir with long wooden paddles. As a
final step, steaming syrup is spread glistening upon the snow to make toffee for small children to alight upon with buttery fingers.
After we arrived at the Festival my husband assumed his role as official
tour guide. I was entrusted with Mr. Tanaka's camera (fully loaded), spare canisters in my pocket, ready to record each stop at every station
along the route. |
 Mr. Tanaka, his nose checking the sap bucket on a tree [click]
Mr. Tanaka smiling at the blonde girl in blue bonnet at the 1st steaming
kettle [click]
Mr. Tanaka helping the girl in
pink bonnet stir second steaming kettle [click]
Mr. Tanaka staring at red-haired girl beside third steaming kettle [click]
When Mr. Tanaka asked the red-head if she was related to
Akage no Anne, my husband intervened and explained to the bewildered girl that Mr.
Tanaka was referring to "Anne of Green Gables". She smiled, then shook her head. Not wishing to leave empty-handed, Mr. Tanaka asked for her
autograph anyway.
On our way back to the parking lot, Mr. Tanaka decided he needed the perfect
souvenir.
Mr. Tanaka, beside our car, proudly displaying his bottle of maple syrup
[click]
As I waited, camera still in hand, my husband politely opened the passenger door for Mr. Tanaka to enter. Perhaps the wind gusted at that
moment or the car door brushed against Mr. Tanaka's sleeve, because an amber stream soon sparkled in the sunlight, spreading outward from Mr.
Tanaka's feet like the Nile across an alluvial plain.
In similar circumstances, I'd be disappointed, probably angry at myself for being clumsy, but finally would dispose of the broken glass
in the nearest garbage bin.
Mr. Tanaka, much to our amazement, promptly gathered the gluey mess in his hands and was about to deposit it on the floor of our car . . .
My husband shouting at Mr. Tanaka, dripping maple syrup [no click]
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