Olivia is still too early for third graders

I don't really understand the mindset of people who call in the middle of the night.

No, it's more than just not understanding; it's scary.

When your phone rings at 1 or 2 a.m., it's usually nothing good.

Either they're drunk or they're crying.
It's usually one of the two.

Maybe it was better back in the day when it was a landline.
We didn't each have our own mobile phone like we do now.

But now, there's nowhere to hide.

It rings suddenly.

2 a.m.
A call from an old lover.
Isn't that just too scary?

I ended up thinking about that just because a nostalgic song started playing from my iPhone, which was on shuffle.

“Listening to Olivia”

When I was young, I thought it was a song about a broken heart.

Drinking jasmine tea.
Counting the stars.
Spending a sleepless night.

A song about a woman like that.

But listening to it after getting older, there were parts that strangely stuck with me.

“You, exhausted,
loved a phantom of me”

That's pretty intense, isn't it?

Not “You didn't love me”
but
“You loved a phantom of me”

The person being told that wouldn't be able to recover for a while.

If it were me, I'd probably bathe in alcohol, or rather, I'd want to become the alcohol itself.

I have the confidence to go to a Gekkeikan sake brewery tour with wobbly legs.
And then do some sake tasting at the Kizakura Kappa Country.
But since I'd be stumbling drunk, I wouldn't even know what it tastes like.
Then I'd think, 'Time for some stress-eating!' and go eat yakitori at the Torisei main store.

The yakitori at the Torisei main store is truly delicious, so it can't be helped.
I think everyone would say, 'Delicious!'

Oh, that reminds me of the Gekkeikan sake brewery tour; there are sake breweries popping up all over my hometown.

After all, my hometown, Fushimi in Kyoto, is a town of sake.

So there are famous sake breweries like Gekkeikan, Kizakura, Kinshi Masamune, and Takara Shuzo.

Fushimi, the town of sake.

But when I was a kid, I hated it.
I'm okay with the smell of sake now because I've built up a tolerance, but when I was a brat, it just stank.

The Takara mirin factory really smelled bad, and I didn't even want to walk in front of it.

And what I hated most was that we'd go to the Gekkeikan sake brewery on a social studies field trip from elementary school.

I was in third grade, for heaven's sake!

Who is interested in “how sake is made”?
Only the teacher accompanying us would be interested in that.

And on the way home, they'd give us a souvenir—a desk mat with the process of “how sake is made” drawn in manga form.

I'll write it again: who is interested in that?

It's still too early for a third grader.
At least wait until fifth grade.

Kids in other regions go to candy factories or bread factories, but we get a sake brewery.
Thanks to that, I didn't get hooked on alcohol, so I'm grateful for that, thank you.

Oh, sorry, I went way off topic.
What were we talking about?
Ah... I wonder what kind of man that guy was.

Since he was calling in the middle of the night, he must have been clinging to the past.

It's not that he didn't love her; in fact, I think he loved her.

He even sent her flowers on her birthday, right?

He seems like he was a kind person.
The lyrics say so, too.

A kind person.

But a kind person and someone who truly sees the other person aren't necessarily the same thing, are they?

For example, the Cattleya that appears in the lyrics.

I'm not knowledgeable about flowers.
I don't know anything at all.

Even if you say Cattleya, all I know is that they're expensive and pretty.

But that man sent her a Cattleya, right?
I'm sure he agonized over it at the flower shop.

Consulting the clerk, thinking about the budget and how it would look.

But he might not have known the flowers she truly liked.

Her favorite color, her favorite season,
the reason she drinks jasmine tea on sleepless nights.

There are little things like that, aren't there?

I feel like when you fall in love with someone, you surprisingly skip over those parts.

You have someone you like.

Just that alone makes your head go happy, happy, happy.
So I don't think it means he didn't love her.

I once liked someone who loved aquariums.

So I thought she liked fish, and I assumed she respected Sakana-kun.

But when I asked later, it turned out she liked jellyfish, and she said Sakana-kun was kind of a scary person.

It's the same as that; my interpretation and the actual likes and dislikes are two different things.

I think people just assume they understand the other person.
Especially if it's someone you like.

This person is kind.
A serious person.
A cheerful person.
You wrap them up like that in your head.
And then you fall in love with that wrapped-up outline.

The problem is when the person themselves isn't inside that wrapped-up outline.

That guy was probably like that, wasn't he?
Probably, anyway.

He loved her.

I think that's true.

It's just, was the her he loved the real her,
or was it a convenient version of her inside his own head?

By the time he realized the difference, the song was about to end.
No, maybe it had already ended.

If it's really as I imagine,
there's nothing to talk about on a late-night phone call.

It's too late to apologize, and too far to start over.

So you have no choice but to stay silent on the other end of the receiver.

And she thinks quietly.

It's you calling in the middle of the night, isn't it?

You, exhausted,
loved a phantom of me.

And the song ends.

Sigh.
I really don't understand the mindset of people who call in the middle of the night.
And I also don't understand elementary schools that take elementary school students to sake breweries.

Oh, I know it's important to learn about local products, and I know that's culture.
I'm not denying culture.

Wrapped-up customs are important too!
This is Kyoto, the city of culture! Of course!

But the needs are different, aren't they?
I was in third grade, for heaven's sake!
When I was in third grade, I was practically a baby.
I even had a Mongolian spot.

It's certainly important to value wrapped-up customs, but that's exactly why you don't see the children's feelings and get told “you loved a phantom of me”.
Do you understand that?
And don't call me in the middle of the night.
It's scary, right?

If you understand, please at least wait until fifth grade for social studies field trips to sake breweries.

I really ask that of you.