I still vividly remember this from my first visit to Kyushu in 1982 -- a vendor pushing his cart along the side of the road (with bicycles, taxis, passenger cars and buses maneuvering around him), all while he is crooning yaki-imo . . . yaki-imo, and the charcoal oven that heats the stones mixes its acrid smoke with the sweet smell of roasting vegetables. Aah furusato!