Dunedin - In search of chowder

Today was my full day living in New Zealand. It's a lot further away from Australia and farther below Tasmania than I imagined. It was was my first day wearing a puffer jacket. It was my first day lunching on chowder.

The lucky chowder was the one made by Plato down on Dunedin's wharf. Its residents included local Little-neck clams, swollen Green-Lipped mussels, fish, and a few other crustaceans. The local Riesling made it perfect.

Other putative observations of Dunedin. A strong representation of red-heads. Excellent cheese and coffee. Incredible wines in the supermarket.  Clear air with a slight whiff of open fires late in the day. People dressed in defiance of the cold. Excellent clouds. Sudden late afternoon darkness. Peaceful habour.

Tomorrow's forecast: A balmy 13C

...what we have now will never be that way again!

  Nick said "What we once thought we had we didn't, and what we have now will never be that way again".
 AM

In recent times, every morning when I wake to the sun beaming directly into my eyes, I get the feeling that I'm not making the most of my last days in Japan. The psychological warfare being prosecuted on me (and everyone else) by the electioneering cars with loudspeakers isn't exactly encouraging me to leave the house either. I've most spent my days trying to erase every last skerrick of my life in Japan from my flat. My last memories of Japan may, in the future, big triggered by the fumes of toxic cleaning products. My main feeling is of a universe collapsing (see right). My work at ECC disappeared in a puff of nothing and one by one I visit places for the last time. Yesterday it was Life supermarket, tonight it will be a shitty yakitori joint, tomorrow it will be Umeda, on Wednesday it will be Japan. Gone.


PM

Many of my final afternoons and nights have been spent saying or thinking goodbye to people, many of whom I know I will never see again. These people are friends, students, teachers, workmates acquaintances, shop keepers, restaurant workers, familiar faces on the train and people whom I've only just met. I'm very sad about this.  I feel like I'm also saying goodbye to trains that run on time, amazing customer service incredibly safe streets, expert cooks in every eatery, public restraint, riding bikes without a helmet, same-day delivery from Amazon, edible sushi, huge amounts of free time, excellent beers, outstanding supermarkets and a very cushy job. Australia can learn a lot from Japan. But I'm also saying goodbye to earthquakes, being illiterate, incredibly conservative people, naked racism, typhoons, salary-men vomiting into rubbish bins, nuclear power, backward treatment of women, terrible Italian food, ridiculous unpaid overtime, and outrageously-priced pizzas. No loss. I can only hope that Melbourne puts on an amazing show for me. The most important thing though, is that Rosie is there and I'm here - so I'm ready to go!

The Period of Last Times

AM

At nearly 9:00am after barely sleeping, I opened the sliding window to a cool-ish day. After the brutal summer, which locals seem to think was the hottest in memory, Autumn may just be arriving. I began to get a nagging feeling last week that I was now entering a time in which I'll be experiencing things in Japan for the last time - at least in this phase of my life. It was a nice thought, though to think that I will never again have to drip through another summer in Osaka. I may never again eat a bowl of cold soemen noodles, a drink another yuzu-laced shochu. These thoughts also have a darker tone when projected into next year. I actually imagined last week the last time the sushi conveyor delivers up a treat,  the end to the delights of kastuo tataki from the supermarket and the end of badly slicing my own sashimi. Awful thoughts.

PM

At about 2:45pm, I walked out the end of a lengthy arcade into an amazing Namba sunshower. Through the glittering (and massive) raindrops, I noticed that it was only 29 degrees. It finally felt like summer was being dismantled in readiness for the Japanese weather switch to be flicked to the Autumn setting. I took a quick photo and skulked into a popular coffee chain for a yuzu iced tea - possibly my last!

Run? Hide under a flimsy table? Run.

AM

At 6:24am I was terrified awake by an earthquake that shook our apartment building. The first indication was a wobble. The second was a significant horizontal shaking of our flat. The tremblor last a few seconds which gave all of the furniture and doors time to rattle, and me time to jump out of bed and reach the locked front door. By the time I had decided that we should make a run for it, the quake was over. The most unsettling thing was having to make a decision about what to do while the floor was shaking. Run? Hide under a flimsy table? Run. Immediately after the quake, I kept thinking aloud that an earthquake could happen at any time - and not when it is convenient for me, and perhaps, not when I was awake. It turns out that the earthquake was centred in Nara, but was felt all over the Kansai region. I just hope when the 'big one' strikes, I'm not in the shower or somewhere worse.

Gimme an L! Gimme a V!

AM

Least: At about 9:35am, I sat sipping my too strong coffee and looked through the plants on the balcony onto the world of Ujita Auto Salon. The daily motions of the mechanics have become so familiar that I seem to no longer hear the deafening pneumatics, the monthly chanting of the company code, the amplified receptionist or the howling of the vacuum cleaner. Now that I can be pedantic over that little world, my attention shifted to the sign - in particular the one in katakana - ウジタ　アート　サロン - Ujita Ahh-to Saron. What really bothers me is the failure of those holding the levers of language matters to give the Japanese people an 'L' (and even a 'V') sound to give them a fighting chance at avoiding really bad translations - of which there are many (as can be seen in many a boring Janglish facebook album). A recent case that left me groaning was seeing the word 'DICTIONALY' stuck in letters across the window of the Daimaru in Shinsaibashi (above). It didn't need to happen.

Most: At nearly 10:45am, I had in my hands two summer fabric shirts for the painfully boring process of ironing. It struck me that despite at least a years difference between the ages of the Uniqlo  shirts, I found it impossible to tell which one was which. I've been told that Uniqlo began producing really cheap and really poor quality clothes but they've had some kind of transformation. They now produce really cheap and really indestructible shirts. Whatever exotic fabric is being used to make these business shirts seems to defy the ravages of edutainment and relentless ironing. It's lamentable that I'm recording my thoughts about fabric in the 'most' column but without a road rage incident out the front - it had to suffice.

PM

Least: At almost 3:30pm, I stood in the sun at the Himematsu tramstop and sweated into my shoes. It felt suspiciously like a four month string of similar incidents last year.As the tram arrived through the heat haze, one, then two old ladies cut in front of me to secure the seat they wanted. As I've probably groaned about earlier, the Hankai tram really brings out the worst in people.

Most: At 9:10pm, I was in the throes of trying to make a discussion about 'giving hospitality' interesting, when someone said a very interesting thing. Hidden among the endless secret codes operating without my knowledge in Japan is an unbelievably odd way of letting guests know that they're not welcome. If you ever see a bottle of household cleaner turned upside-down - you must now take it as a sign that your gracious hosts want yout to leave. Just to recap - a bottle of household turned upside down. Wow!

On the Arrival of Summer

AM

Mr Hatoyama resigned today. Today I also seem to feel the horrible Osaka summer announcing its too-long visit. The heat is here but not too strong. The towers of cumulus clouds are screaming humidity but from a distance. These signs leave me bracing for the certainty of a day in the next few weeks when sweat will begin dripping down my legs, men will be fanning themselves, ashphalts will liquify and I will be dreaming of November. Already in the last month has the heat caused me problems. A recent trip to the local dry-cleaner to rescue some suit-pants, light encrusted with sweat about the knees, turned into a massive failure of my still appalling Japanese listening and speaking skills. Was the lady doubtful of the outcome of the cleaning process or just embarrassed by the six-day turn-around time? I'll probably never know. Many officeworkers are released from the yoke of their neckties in June or July. The 'Cool Biz' concept forgives sensible summer attire in return for a twenty-eight degree airconditioning setting as a way to save energy and money. It's good idea that still hasn't had any impact on my company's idea of the suit and tie as the appropriate attire for a professional educator even in the classrooms cooled to a chilly twenty seven degrees.

PM

The undeniable lowlight of the afternoon was carrying a fridge down four stories, then another up two stories using dangerously broken English. Despite the pain in my knees and lower back, the operation was successful. Incredibly, our fridge was replaced only two and a half hours after Rosie steamrolled our landlord with a complaint about a long-dripping fridge. A boring and common problem involving frozen condensation tubes gave us the splashy joy of puddles in and around our fridge. Boring.

Rage and the Secret Life of Point Cards

 AM

At 9:30am, I woke with a crushing headache. Rather than a hangover, which would indicate a great night beforehand, the headache mainly resulted from rage and a touch of dehydration. After reading my draft schedule for the next academic year, my shock was so great that it nearly caused vomiting. Despite a year of outstanding evaluations and a spotless attendance record, not one of the seven schools I nominated appeared on the sub-professional spreadsheet (right) .My week of personnel department rage began with two trips to Wakayama in one week, subsided on Wednesday, then was enflamed once again on Thursday night. I'm still pondering whether or not to compose a strongly worded letter. Then again, I didn't come here to work for my company - I came to get out of a rotten job and out of the cool soup which Melbourne isn't and enjoy myself (which I am!)

PM

During the PM hours I was asked no less than four times whether or not I had a point card. I also gained one point card and redeemed some goodness from another point card.

I've inadvertently become a regular at the Akagakiya Sushi restaurant in Namba. Every time I visit, which is very often, I get asked whether I would like to convert my pile of plates into points. Finally today (thanks to Rosie's Japanese skills) , I was able to become part of the sushi point card bretheren. I'm completely unsure as to the nature of the calculations, however today I accrued 17 points. As to exactly how the points will pay off I am also completely unsure, but I plan to pile on the numbers for something big - someday.

Just 30 minutes later, I experienced the joyous result of point accumulation. For months, small numbers of points have been added to my and Rosie's Yamada LABI card. Today, at about 4:30pm the pay off came. It was unexpected, for my previous experience with points has been almost nil, and in Australia, redemption for most people is an impossible dream. As the clerk fed our card into her machine, then scanned the barcode on our new powerboard an amazing thing happened. In my ignorance, I offered the young women the 1300 or so yen for the good but she simply pointed to the register that read 0Yen. The powerboard cost nothing but a few abstract numbers on a hi-tech silvery card. Again: what an amazing country.