The Toy at the End of the Rainbow

AM

Least: At about 9:40am, I unnecessarily purchased another can of Suntory Boss coffee. Today it was Rainbow Mountain Blend from Guatemala, and the stupid attraction was a toy car (right) sitting atop of the can. The coffee itself was rather disgusting, being too milky and too sweet for my tastes. The toy was more successful and had a pull-back motor - still it was totally pointless. Yesterday, I had bought a similar can with Luigi from Mario Bros. riding on top. Under no circumstances would I ever buy this in Australia. I think the marketing gimmick level is so high in Japan, that it has actually lowered my resistance to advertising. A small toy is now governing my spending patterns. Ouch.

Most: A few minutes after 9:30am, I dumped a huge bag of bottles and cans on the side of the road as I trudged up to the Family Mart. At the far end of the street I passed a Recycler on a bike who was crushing cans and piling them into one of two massive plastic sacks. By the time I had bought my overpriced breakfast materials and walked home, the Recycler had already rummaged through my bag and retrieved the aluminium cans. I noted with interest that he had left a steel-ish coffee can that I had foolishly bought during yesterdays AM (see above). The Recyclers are very often homeless men who pedal the streets collecting cans and selling them at repositories near Namba - given the effort and hours put into the exercise, I hope the man made some money for the day.

PM

Least: Between exactly 6:20pm and 7:50pm I was subjected to a most cruel torture. I sat in the same room as a student who couldn't help repeating parts of a sentence four or five times before getting it almost right. A number of times he began the five-cycle again even after finishing a sentence successfully. One of the other victims, a train conducuctrix (read below) was visibly irritated after completing her dialogues at near natural speed. Some time into the second hour, the smells started. Breath probably. I only hope I am spared the same 80 minutes of agony next Thursday. For the record, the poor guy was tickling forty-five and still living with his parents.

Most: At exactly 5:30pm, I began talking to a Nanakai train conductor. It was interesting to hear that her favourite train was the airport express and that the Rapit-B was hard work because of all of the freeloaders trying to get home early. I couldn't help asking her about her pink and grey uniform (see one her colleagues right), which I think is very becoming. She didn't like it too much, saying that the light colours allowed the uniform to get too dirty and that her hat was far too hot in summer. She was nice, and it was a real pity that she had to suffer through the next 80 minutes as I did.