The Orange

In May, the inland of the Kii peninsula is sunny and hot. Luckily the Kōhechi Trail of the Kumano Kodō leads mostly through woods that give enough shade, but descending to a valley means suddenly diving into a much warmer climate. This valley is less damaged by construction than the previous ones I had passed, and at first I decide to walk all the way to Totsukawa onsen along the road. I meet some beautiful orchids growing from the cliff beside the road, but soon the sun becomes too stingy. I ask inside the local shop in a village called Nagai to make sure the bus is coming. I have about fifteen minutes to wait. While I sit there, an old lady hobbles around, very slowly. She is hunched, her back bent literally at a right angle so that she faces the ground when she walks. She walks a few times to the grocery shop and back to her house across the narrow street. Then she is holding two oranges and I immediately think of eating fruit, I haven’t had any in days, it is crazily expensive in Japan. She moves so slow that I almost forget about her presence, and I believe she couldn’t have even seen me sitting there because of her posture. But then suddenly she is in front of me, handing me one of the oranges. A true Japanese hospitality to pilgrims. I thank her very much. It is apparently a local grown orange (I see an orange tree from the bus soon after). I carry it in my my bag till the afternoon. I pass the the village of Hatenashi and then I eat it, at a small shrine with a spring in the hills. A wild rhododendron sheds its blossoms all around. The fruit is slightly dried out and a bit bitter, but it doesn't bother me. It is the orange from the magic old lady.