Ehime smells of fish, old ladies fart mid conversation without even blinking, and beautifully constructed organic lives fall apart in one fell swoop.
Yawatahama is a port town so it is reasonable that it would smell of fish. But Seiyo is a mountain village so there is very little reason for it to smell of fish, but it did. In fact, all day as I cycled down Shikoku’s west coast I got a whiff of fish. It wasn’t me, I promise.

I reached John’s house around 4, and parked myself on a stone at the bottom of his drive to wait. As I waited people came and went and a dog barked incessantly, ants crawled across my shoes and I ate peanuts. An old lady with no teeth and a walking stick shuffled over and stood in front of me. We said hello and she continued to stand there, silent for a moment. Then she let one rip. And I don’t mean a little toot but a valley shaking rumble. She stood and looked for a moment longer, her face somewhat glazed over. Then she went on her way mumbling something about the wonder of nature.
John served a top notch dinner of Korean food that he’d learnt how to cook when living there for 3 years before coming to Japan. He’d also been buying out the entire district’s strawberry supply and I scoffed more than I’ve ever had in one sitting before, doused in homemade yoghurt and beet sugar. Thanks John!

Tomorrow and Saturday are biggies! 260km to Mima for the touch rugby tournament – wish me luck!