The word for ‘absolutely bloody fantastic’ in Japanese is 最～高. If you hear this verbally, it comes out as ‘saikou’, which can…oh deary me…be utterly misheard in English as ‘psycho’!!
Right now the summer is in full swing here, and it’s preeeeposterously hot and humid. It’s so ridiculous, it’s enough to make a sauna feel like a fridge.
Ridiculous to most, but most sublime to me. Might be a play on words, but I LOVE IT. Summer, that is.
Confess this to the average person, and I either get a clout around the head with a handbag or a stream of verbal obsenities.
When I respond by telling them it’s saikou, they retaliate by telling me I am indeed psycho.
Maybe I am.
But seriously, how can anyone dislike it?
The almighty racket of the cicada orchestra screeching away in the trees 24-7, keeping everyone awake at night. Even that I love. It’s the sound of the summer.
Naughty boys hanging out by the Yodo River letting off fireworks, the sight of the summer.
Buckets of mugi-cha (cold barley tea) to replenish the sweat deficit and cold noodles. It’s the taste of the summer.
Wafts of yaki-something coming from a yatai stall at a traditaional festival. Putrifying rubbish in the heat. It’s the smell of the summer.
Dipping your feet into the river at night in Kyoto. Slipping into a pair of geta (Japanese wooden sandals). Yukata fabric woven into the tapestry of the long hot summer nights. Waking up in a puddle of sweat. (Don’t like aircon…cons you out of the heat). The feel of the summer.
Self-confessed psycho, I am, then.