This was my final month in Japan, still in love with it all (and hopefully not turning into Susan, not just yet), and I think (hope) I'll be back.
(There's something I want to mention about our Zimbabwean visitors: If they liked a meal, they literally sang, clapped and danced the praises of the host and/or food. I wish I had grown up in a place where this is a standard reaction to a satisfied stomach. What host/chef wouldn't be pleased with such a response? It's an instant recipe for friendship, worked every time here in Japan, and seemed to come so naturally.)
Anyway - the insect museum! It was fascinating, engrossing... until I entered the butterfly house. And that was something else. I felt like Lucy, having stumbled through the coats in the wardrobe and suddenly ended up treading on snow, but I was treading on solid ground and surrounded by all of the things - cascades of orchids over waterfalls through palm fronds under canary yellow bell flowers, carmine blooms, all of the colours and amongst this assault on the senses, the fluttering of wings - butterflies in their hundreds. So I took a few photos*, and here they are: