Strawberry Farm
The naval base has all kinds of activities planned for the families that come out here. It’s incredibly nice because I imagine there are quite a few people “stuck” in Japan that aren’t as adventurous as j and I. I married so well. Remember when we were growing up and I was the spontaneous one and jon was the methodical one? What happened to those versions of ourselves?
Where’s this going. We usually check out the list of things that MWR is doing and say “yeah, that sounds good! let’s plan our own trip for that!” – which is awesome because we learn about festivals and castles and sights and stuff that we might not otherwise hear of, but we don’t have to spend hours on a bus and herd around like american cattle.
This trip, however, was really far away. It was a 4 hour bus ride into a prefecture that just wasn’t very easy to get to, and they went a few places that we were excited about. So that’s a long way of qualifying why I’m in this bus, writing postcards to grandma, on our way to eat stuff our faces with strawberries.
Unlike U-pick places in the States, you don’t take the fruit with you here. You have 30 minutes to shove your face with as many berries as you can. Careful not to give yourself a stomachache! Those suckers are sweet!
Though how can you resist the elusive 6-legged, white strawberry?!
Just kidding.
You have thirty minutes. Go.
So most people left after about 15. Jon… jon couldn’t understand it. He stayed longer than anyone else, peeking and picking through the
bushes that our group was allotted. There’s so many berries left!
Personally, I had to tap out because I have no self-control. I literally mashed every decent looking berry in my face as fast as I could. After about 15 minutes I recognized the turning point – if I kept going, I was going to be complaining for the rest of the bus ride.
As with everything in life, jon’s style’s more refined than mine. He perused. He selected. He did not come out with a sticky face and red-stained hands.
