The truism, "As different as night and day" is particularly apt in reference to the decibel level in Doshi, a village in Yamanashi Prefecture where I've lived with my wife, sons and mother-in-law since 1991. In newspapers and magazines, one reads about how the government pours money into construction projects around the nation. In Doshi, one can see at firsthand the concrete results, if you'll pardon the pun, of such expenditure. Noise travels well in the countryside, so in the daytime you can often hear chain saws, electric saws, jackhammers, power shovels or trucks being used. Two years ago, four such projects were within earshot or sight of our house. Between us and the main road the final stages of an access roadway to the neighboring graveyard were under way while down at Route 413 new concrete drainage channels were being installed alongside the road. Visible, and very audible, across Doshi River, a road and big bridge were being built -- albeit leading to nowhere in particular. And a forest track was (and is) being extended across the hillside above our house, necessitating the frequent use of chain saws and power shovels.
I point out to my fellow villagers that the most popular things in Doshi aren't ABC but BCD, for besso, camp-jo and doro; all of which cause some destruction to the natural surroundings. The campsite "boom" is about played out, but that land is being covered by holiday homes. Roadways, however, are perennially popular projects, the most infamous of which was exposed in the vernacular Yamanashi Shimbun as going absolutely nowhere. For that matter, it starts nowhere special in some fields, runs parallel to the river, then stops 100 meters or so short of a bridge and the narrow road that crosses it. And, to add insult to injury, a holiday home has been built between the new roadway and the river. Plus some of the construction is not particularly well thought out. Although the concrete roadway next to us does allow access to the graveyard, the road surface slopes away from the drainage channels, initially diverting rainwater onto our property. At one stage, I mixed some concrete, built plywood forms then rectified a design fault in a drain that would have diverted water across our property boundary whenever it rained. I thus find many of the construction projects in Doshi annoying not just for the racket they produce but for their lack of purpose and planning, plus waste of taxpayers' money. Mind you, they do help the employment situation. While noisy, the villagewide public address system is undoubtedly beneficial. As well as broadcasting chimes twice a day at noon and 5 p.m. for those working in the fields without watches, the strategically located speakers inform us of upcoming or canceled events, that the school bus will be 20 minutes late due to the snow or to drive carefully because the police are operating a speed trap on the main road! But the nights are quiet and offer a welcome respite from any din during the days; the principal exceptions being fireworks and noisy devices to scare nocturnal predators away from crops in the fields.
A Town Mouse once visited a relative who lived in the country. For lunch the Country Mouse served wheat stalks, roots, and acorns, with a dash of cold water for drink. The Town Mouse ate very sparingly, nibbling a little of this and a little of that, and by her manner making it very plain that she ate the simple food only to be polite. After the meal the friends had a long talk, or rather the Town Mouse talked about her life in the city while the Country Mouse listened. They then went to bed in a cozy nest in the hedgerow and slept in quiet and comfort until morning. n her sleep the Country Mouse dreamed she was a Town Mouse with all the luxuries and delights of city life that her friend had described for her. So the next day when the Town Mouse asked the Country Mouse to go home with her to the city, she gladly said yes.
When they reached the mansion in which the Town Mouse lived, they found on the table in the dining room the leavings of a very fine banquet. There were sweetmeats and jellies, pastries, delicious cheeses, indeed, the most tempting foods that a Mouse can imagine. But just as the Country Mouse was about to nibble a dainty bit of pastry, she heard a Cat mew loudly and scratch at the door. In great fear the Mice scurried to a hiding place, where they lay quite still for a long time, hardly daring to breathe. When at last they ventured back to the feast, the door opened suddenly and in came the servants to clear the table, followed by the House Dog. The Country Mouse stopped in the Town Mouse's den only long enough to pick up her carpet bag and umbrella. "You may have luxuries and dainties that I have not," she said as she hurried away, "but I prefer my plain food and simple life in the country with the peace and security that go with it."