Rhinos versus Flamingos

AM

Least: When I woke at 10:00am, it became clear that the morning period would produce no activity. Aside from lugging the vast bags of plastics down to the road, not much happened, and with only two hours left had little chance of doing so. Every night, I plan to rise early and go for a walk, or do something useful, but recently its promise has never been realised. If it wasn't like daylight outside the balcony all night, I could leave the curtains open and rise with the sun. No hope.

Most: By 10:20am, I had scanned all of the relevant websites and television channels in search of analysis of last night's historic change in government. Like most Japanese, I have spoken to there was general hope for change, but with little indication of what change is required. Perhaps the change is an unknown unknown and people just haven't been conscious of what they might possibly be missing. Maybe Japanese society will be able to climb out of it's weird post war funk (although sometimes I feel like it could be 1905 still). The trains still ran on time and the tram still shook our flat every five minutes - so it goes.

PM

Least: At exactly 12:54pm, I had finished the gruelling process of paying the rent through an ATM down at MUFJ Bank. Aside from the insurmountable language barrier, there seems a ridiculous number of options to choose from. Being the end of the month, the queue was especially long as people spent many minutes feeding cards and booklets into the machines, paying bills and such. It's been seven months but rent day has never approached being easy or interesting.

Most: Sometime after 9:35pm, I sat on the Midosuji line between Abiko and Tennoji thoroughly drained from a day of slicing flash cards. My minor cheer came from reading the subway courtesy posters (photo right). The theme of the advertisements is to discourage people from rushing onto the train and forcing the doors. Rather than use graven images of human beings, the Osaka Municipal Transportation Bureau chose zoo animals to drive the point home. Cartoony drawings of a gorilla, a herd of Rhinos and a snake are depicted barging onto the train  terrifying a spectacled dog and several flamingoes - it's a jungle out there.

Waiting for Quakes

AM

Least: I woke at about 8:15am to find that the special kind of up-too-early boredem was upon me. Despite my glee at not being hungover, I found little entertainment in my eggs or the morning baseball-based anime. As a last resort I began skimming through this month's edition of London Review of Books. Not surprisingly, it was packed with incredibly pretentious writing about other pretentious writers and groanworthy poetry. I could write more about the contents of the magazine but would risk becoming a crashing bore.

Most: At about 10:30am, I was looking for information about today's matsuri festival when stumbled across the earthquakes section of the Sumiyoshi-ku website. The terrifying truth is that we are living on the Uemachi Fault system and it is predicted that within the next fifty years a massive subduction quake will smash the city and liquify its soils. The preparedness guide recommends hiding under a desk or pillow during the quake and highlights that fact that if you're on the toilet it's best to stay there as it's probably the safest part of the house. Thankfully, because we are on the fourth floor, we should be safe from the predicted tsunami when the quake strikes. I just hope I'm not in the shower  or suffering from a mid-shave goatee when our shakey friend arrives.

PM

Least: Sometime arounf 12:30pm, I rescued my bike from the station and spun up to the glossily advertised Tezukayama Matsuri. I groaned as the rag-tag group of stalls came into view. Out of date toys, worn clothes, shonky homemade games and very limited food greeted my eyes. Although it was clearly a community fundraising event, I felt misled by the high quality advertising that appeared in shop windows a couple of weeks ago. One rare highlight was the talent quest - we saw a four-ish year old girl in pink do a song n dance routine. The next best choice was Bikkuri Donkey.

Most: At about 1:35pm, Rosie and I left the largely boring Tezukayama festival and wheeled down the hill to Bikkuri Donkey. We thought we'd go for a laugh and a laugh is what we got. The crazed junk-yard style building and the bizarre interior only served to make the meal that we got even more interesting. I ordered a 300g hamburg (top of menu shown right) with exactly four chips and hot mayonnaised corn served on a bed of cooked onion and topped with a typically soggy ball of shredded daikon. The vast slab of minced New Zealand beef was only dwarfed by the imposing shuttered menu that looked down on us like a sentinel. I thought the meal was on the way to being repulsive, but with the use of corn kernals, it has to be considered an incredibly Japanese dish. It is amazing what people will pay to eat if it's served in cartoonish surroundings.

Saying No to Thorpedo and Yes to Outro '6

AM

Least: At about 11:05am, I finally had breakfast. Having had nothing substantial since lunch yesterday, I could've eaten a horse. Instead I opted for an onigiri internally rife with salty cured red salmon. It was delicious, yet somehow only served to remind me of the breakfast the could've been. Bacon, eggs, tomato and coffee in a cafe is essentially unavailable in any edible form here. At the Beekman Sports Palace down the road, it is possible to buy mile-thick bread smeared with jam (only just sweeter than the bread) but it could only barely be called a breakfast. It might just be more interesting to launch a search party for the best cafe breakfast in Osaka.

Most: By 9:30am, I was once again barrelling towards Wakayama. The only point of interest I could extract from the journey was the sighting of the Thorpedo softdrink at Hineno station. Because of its association with Yakult, I declined the voice telling me to buy it - yoghurty soft drinks are pretty far from refreshing. According to the website, there are several versions of the drink - I wonder why it has never taken off in Australia. In addition, the Thorpedo is perhaps the only Australian sportsman to make a blip on the Japanese fame-dar. Interesting - sort of.

PM

Least: Between exactly 12:15pm and 12:55pm, I battled through an English lesson with a student who was both out of depth and was infested with a dreadful cold. Every ten seconds or so he would either sneeze of sniff up mucous into his blocked nose. I swear I could feel the swarms of flu virus's impaling my every cell. The next few days will be telling. If I'm sick next Saturday, I might just blow my nose on the guy's shirtsleeve.

Most: At about 9:15pm, Rosie and I walked in the gates of the Freestyle Outro '6 festival down near the docks in Osaka. The primary reason for attending was to see Palm and Edge of Spirit but we gather far more than this. The performances were crushing and we spoke to some guys from Palm, and a wild Japanese woman from California. As a cultural spectacle it was amazing. A sea of non-typical Japanese metal, hardcore and hip hop fans were drinking hard and enjoying the music, graffiti and skateboarding Far from the norms of Japan's staid appearances, most people had serious tatts and were larking about in a very relaxed manner. It was so refreshing to see a non-temple/manga/salary man side of Japan. One of the best nights here so far.

Langkawi and The Case of the Missing Waitress

AM

Least: At nearly 11:00am, I foolishly turned on the TV and was not surprised to see that today's riveting installment of 'How To Make' was a repeat. I had already learned about the tatami mat making process from 'reed to room' the previous day. Like other filler shows, it had all the hallmarks of an uninteresting 30mins - bad lighting, harsh sound, long gaps in commentry and appalling music. Needless to say, I don't really appreciate the mats 'neath my feet any more than I did pre-instruction.

Most: Close to 9:30am, I woke with the faint memory of booking flights to Malaysia for the winter holidays. Near, or just after midnight, browsing flights, when on the spur of the moment Rosie and I decided to click on 'book now'. As my bleariness subsided, I began to envision a perfect, mindless tropical holiday - drinking cocktails under swaying palms. Having something to look forward to makes even the least interesting of days worth groaning through.

PM

Least: At nearly 2:15pm, Rosie and I ascended to the 8th floor of a skinny building in Shinsaibashi to El Pancho for a late lunch. We were delighted to find that the happyhour was long and made the cocktails half-price. We weren't delighted though, with the decidedly non-Japanese style service. The lone waitress didn't appear run off her feet and seemed to hide around a corner. Despite a sumimasen or two she was blissfully unaware of of need for another drink - perhaps selling half-price drinks isn't too profitable.

Most: At about 1:20pm, I parked my bike at a surprisingly convenient and free garage under LABI in Namba and strolled into the cavernous electrical wonderland. I walked past, every imaginable appliance, bridal set, camera, phone and massage device. On the fourth floor, lived the games,toys and thousands of Gundam models. It was incredible to imagine that people, children and nerds, would have vast collections of these figurines adorning their rooms. There were also enormous number of train sets and items to help recreate the world in miniature. As I left LABI Gundam-less, I noticed about ten Japanese men snoring into their chests on the massage chairs.

The Early Lunch and Late Dinner

AM


Least: At about 10:20am, I found myself still bleary and in the Life supermarket bike parking area. For some reason, maybe micro-geographical, it is the hottest place in Osaka. As soon as I rolled around the corner into the sea of shopping bicycles, it was as if I'd stepped into a hot, boring oven. Downstairs in the supermarket, the competition for aisle-space was hot too - with the hoonish old ducks stopping at nothing to get their wares. There seemed to a run on horrifically filled crustless sandwiches.

Most:  At 11:40am, I began cooking okonomiyaki for an early lunch. Thankfully, the packet of flours, seaweeds, and prawn-bubbles made the job pretty easy - I just had to add chopped cabbage, eggs and flour. For the flavour layer, I added mushrooms for Rosie and leanish pork on mine (above). The real trick to to be able to flip them over without destroying thier structural integrity. Okonomiyaki is always in danger of being bland, so it is crucial to had plenty of worcester sauce on standby if another squirt is required. Bonito flakes are a must - mayonnaise is optional. Being a work-day it was a little disappointing not to be chugging down a beer with our meal - maybe tomorrow.

PM

Least: Approaching 11:00pm, I sat at Nakamozu atation and watched an Out Of Service train arrive, empty and depart. In the excruciating time between that disappointment and my train, no less than three trains passed me by. It felt like Melbourne, but with the trains clearly labelled, my rage was kept to a minimum. The most uninteresting of trials become far less enraging when their outcome is entirely predictable.

Most: Just after 8:45pm, I walk out of my pink workplace and down a flight of stairs to a vast barn of an izakaya. Despite the occasional whiff of oil and smoke, I had never contemplated that such a complex had existed less than a metre beneath my feet. The feeding trough catered for all tastes, ranging from repellent pizzas and bakes, to silky sashimi and three kinds of grilled offal. I settled for the grilled vital organs and semi-dried squid. The beer was great too. My new awareness though, will make working upstairs drag on that little while longer.

The Newspaper on the Tram

AM


Least: At 10:05am, I began the incredibly boring process of munching through 'Pasco 5' bread. It is far to thick to lend itself to an admirable meal - the toast affected layer is far too thin compared with the doughy, sugary and bland interior of massive GI. Despite rapidly depleting Vegemite supplies, I managed to mask some of the horrors of Japanese bread, but it wasn't quite enough. And to think Pasco is the best of a very bad bunch.

Most: Around 8:15am, I crept down the stairs to go on a long overdue stroll 'round the pond. In the many weeks since my last laps, the leaves had begun turning yellow, grass was crazily high, and some of the trees had been dealt some brutal pruning. As usual, there were tens of old men ambling around the path and a few people walking their over pampered dogs. For some reason, two police on bicycles were roaming the area, evidently looking for something or someone - they looked like tough characters despite the bikes. On my way home I noticed that the large white cube of a house (right) was progressing nicely, though the lift and the tiny third floor seem excessive. The owners will probably feel modest and cramped given the enormous size of the houses that stand next door.

PM

Least: By 4:50am, I was once again trapped in an impossibly small office listening to yet another sleazy teacher who seemed to think every woman or girl was at his feet. He met the usual profile of a balding nerd who, probably a geek in his home country and found himself an adonis in Japan. The appalling thing was that he thought enough of himself to bore anyone close bye. He reported with a straight face that no woman in Thailand was as hot as his Japanese girlfriend. Even more boring than the tissues I was packing.

Most: Not long after 9:35pm. I walked through Tennoji, passed several homeless guys sleeping in cardboard boxes and alighted the tram to Himematsu. Sitting on either side of me was a young woman who looked like she'd forgotton to wear pants and a man reading a sports-based newspaper. Peeking at the newspaper, I noticed that the man on my left was perusing the pornographic pages of the paper - numerous sets of breasts covered the page. Perhaps self conscious (but probably not), he flipped to a section that gave him tips about improving his golf swing then quickly fell asleep. Many of the local tabloid papers double as porno mags and men often reading them on public transport without shame. The girl sitting on my right texted on a phone with a toy hanging from it twice its' size.

Strolling Under Jupiter

AM

Least: Close to 9:58am I woke with a feeling of exhaustion that was incommensurate with my activities of yesterday. I had planned to get up early and restart my strolls around the pond but to no avail. Perhaps my lacklustre is a result of the relentless heatwave (now waning) that is the Osakan summer, it could be diet, or the drudgery of being back at work. Either way it will make my mornings incredibly uninteresting until further notice.

Most: Sometime around 11:10am, I was once again trawling through the Courier Mail readers' comments section looking for some cracking comedy. As usual, the cranks were again out in force after the reports of the hottest day in August surfaced. But, despite temperature records being smashed all over Australia and the world, the flat-earthers still churn out the same ignorant, right-wing garbage. The paranoia, rage, fear, anti-intellectualism, parochialism, hate, stupidity, arrogance, bigotry and pig-headedness is astonishing. The comments surrounding Shapelle Corby's insanity were almost as entertaining.The Japanese version is a little too earnest - I wonder who's positing?

PM

Least: Just after 4:30pm, I suffered the degradation of undoing some incredibly boring work that I had done about a month ago. I spent and hour carefully unpicking packets of tissues from cheap plastic fans. Both the fans and the tissues were going to be put to some mysterious use in the future despite the snakebite-ish puncture wounds. Even worse, I'm bound to suffer the same dire boredem again, probably at the same place. At least the fact that I'm doing it means that someone else won't have to.

Most: Walking home from the station at 10:10pm, I revelled in the cool breeze and emptyish streets - alone except for a man picking up a fresh turd from his corgi. Above was the sky littered with artifical light from the vast city. The only point of light to break through is (apparently) the monstorous Jupiter and without the moon it is the biggest thing in the sky. With a clear sky, the night will hopefully be far cooler and far better for sleeping through.

This Week's Boring Surprise

AM

Least: At 10:37am, I once again found myself groaning at the thought of calling headquarters to learn of my shift for today. Although most Mondays usually ends in extreme boredem, there is always the chance of a horror shift with too many kids classes or an epic rail journey. Uncertainty is stressful, but it becomes boring very quickly despite the surprises.This week's boring surprise: Komyoike 3:45pm to 9:35pm.


Most:  Just after 5:24am, I unexpectedly got out of bed and took a whiff of the air outside to sample the weather. From our balcony I got a great view of the rising sun, which I thought appropriate given my current location. The sun dominated the urban sprawl and gave the usually boring concrete a pleasing orange glow. Next time I'll take a photo. Looking at todays astronomical forcasts I found that high noon with actually be at midday today and tomorrow's daylight will be two minutes shorter.

PM

Least: By 9:36pm, I was at the good end of a six hour stint underground. My tomb was also surrounded by a second-string shopping mall with muzak of muzak playing. It was like spending the afternoon in a cinema watching a movie about out-of-date wall postings. When I emerged from my burrow, the decaying concourse was dark and filled with dodgy looking loiterers.

Most: Sometime around 5:35pm, I began listening to the lamentations of a women in a loveless marriage. She had four teenage kids, a house deep in the country, a lazy spiteful husband and not many other options. Her marriage had been arranged and although she had serious doubts about her suitor, he and his mother, came to the woman's family home to ensure a yes vote. She enjoyed reading whilst lying on the floor, but lept to sit ladylike in a chair upon hearing her husband's footfalls. She said "I think he loves me". Interesting and very sad, and apparently not too uncommon.

The Death Stare in the Supermarket

AM

Least: Within an hour of 3:00am, I slumped into a white taxi for the outrageously expensive cruise from Shinsaibashi to Tezukayma. Despite my incredibly blurry state, I noticed that the driver had a small plasma TV installed on his dashboard. The screen had a deep shade so the driver could watch it at any time he chose. Without surprise, I saw that even in the early hours, it was still possible to watch insipid variety shows. I was too drunk to tell whether or not Terry Ito made an appearance.


Most: Just after rising at 11:10am, I slid open my balcony door to discover the surprise that the day was not searingly hot. A coolish breeze fluttered the washing and gave me the hint the summer might just be on the wane. The forecast still warns of above 30 degree days, yet the painful maximums are beginning to lower. Hopefully the nights will be cooler and more sleep friendly too.

PM

Least: At about 3:20pm, I squeezed into the local supermarket to buy some overpriced groceries. What made this dull experience even less interesting was the swarm of houswives blocking every isle. In the fruit section, Rosie reported seeing be-aproned women scanning  bigger-than-A3 catalogues for any bargains they may have missed. You'd think that the old bag who graced me with her death stare as I sidled up to the packing counter would've been more cheerful, given that she'd had just managed to save 23 yen. Tightarse.

Most: Just before 4:00pm, I was again intrigued by another mention of last year's Tsiolkas book 'The Slap', During my visit to Australia a few people urged me to read it and empasised its light-shining value in terms of naughties suburban Melbourne. Having not read any of the book, I settled on a debate on the First Tuesday Book Club between the usual hipster, author, journo and guests. The interesting thing about the usually uninteresting show, was the faith-like defence put up by the Australians after the Britisher dismissed the book for its soapiness. It's always warming to hear familiar suburbs or types mentioned in print, but perhaps the interest fades as soon as you live outside of the good pages of the Melways. Given the rifts and the raft of recommendations though, I'll need to give it a read. At least Hardy has removed that distracting flower from her hair.

Rice Paddies and Grindcore

Saturday 22 August 2009

AM

Least: By 9:13am, I was once again stepping onto the Nankai local heading towards Mikunigaoka then Wakayama. At Mikunigaoka - the station without romanji - I was mildly rocked by the fact that I could recognise the people on the platform, the station masters and the women crowing from behind the counter of their sweets shop. This increasingly well worn path has seemingly also seared a neural pathway into my brain to ensure that there's no interesting surprises.

Most: Just after 10:00am, my train was clack clack clacking through rice paddies and market gardens. The rice had changed from a few weeks ago and was now nodding with the weight of seeds. It is somehow comforting to see the incredible uniformity of the rice crop and its perfect green -civilisation. I also noticed that a few leaves were beginning to turn yellow and orange as I got closer to Wakayama. I think that in  month or so, the scenery will be be interesting enough to take a photo of. Despite seeing the same people, smelling the same smells and hearing the same sounds on this trip every week, the landscape is different every time.

PM

Least: At about 12:35pm, I ran into the crushingly boring problem of forcing conversation out of an adult student for the next twenty minutes. We both knew that we had exhausted all available small talk and had covered the usuals - holidays (he had none), movies (he didn't watch movies), food (he was too busy to eat out). I went into autopilot and thought about my onigiri in the fridge.

Most: Some time around 11:00pm, Rosie and I blurred into Hokage in Shinsaibashi so that we could be pummelled by some Japanese grindcore. We spoke to some people in bands and a few guys who we knew from their tours to Australia. The bandroom was deep underground and the bar was even deeper. As we watched Corvus, it was interesting to see and hear a female vocalist destroy the crowd in such a male dominated scene. I took some red-soaked phone photos and caught the next band, only to be driven out by a techno-ish outfit and sheer drunkeness. It didn't help that we'd already been to Jokerman and Tee's Kitchen beforehand and that Toshi from Palm gave us extra drink cards on entry. A wild night.

___________________
Food Note: At T's Kitchen, we stood at the bar and ordered several snackish meals including, freshly topped pizza, battered octopus, edemame, tuna sushimi and doteyaki. The last item was outstanding. The beef from the toughest and maybe unsaleable part of the beast had been cooked for hours and steeped in a sweet sweet sauce. I ordered two.

The Monster in the Pond vs Gatchaman

AM

Least: At around 9:25am I began thanking Japan for sparing me from political advertising on TV. Although the election is big news, it it restricted to the news-ish programs. The downside however, is the rash of shouting vans that smite us from all angles. Most often, the occupants are white-gloved and waving to nobody in particular in a cartoony manner. Another sign is the clutches of men strolling the streets chanting chants and carrying yellow banners. Despite these attempts though, there seems no danger of election fever. I'm yet to speak to someone who thinks that either of the big parties will make any difference.

Most: At 10:50am, Rosie and I pedalled north towards the flea market at the Shitennoji Temple. On the way we made a very brief detour to look at the Matsumushi Zuka that apparently is still shaded by an 800 year old tree. As it turns out we were travelling up part of the Kumano Road which people have been treading for over 1000 years. Amazing, but not quite as amazing as the 5th Century burial mound near our local station or the monster that used to lurk in Mandai Ike (above) until it was banished in the 6th Century. Wow.

PM

Least: At 3:58pm, an ongoing problem with our washing machine sucked the little interest that was left out of the third hour after twelve. It's been boringly misfiring since the morning when a man in billowing pants and a do-rag appeared in our window and insisted that we move the infernal machine indoors. Three days later we shifted it back to the freshly painted balcony. The washing machine was evidently unimpressed and has been slightly less than automatic ever since. One day the incessant beeping will send it over the edge and onto the tram tracks.



Most: By about 12:10pm, my neck was being seared as we strolled around the flea market at Shitennoji. The number of stalls was vast as was the range of items for sale. Some of the more notable pieces of clutter were, ivory carvings, prehistoric stone tools, dismembered samurai armour, ancient ceramics, pipes, a flintlock gun, endless tools, buttons, cooked entrails, tiny fish and unwearable clothes. I settled on a piece of rank nostalgia - a board game depicting what we called G-Force but was called 'Kagaku ninja tai Gatchaman' in Japan. It is still in its packet complete with dice. How the game is meant to be played I'll never know.

The Man with the Magnets

AM

Least: At 10:15am, I began carefully poaching my eggs according to the tried and true Box method. When the crucial time for toasting arrived, I was devastated to discovered that we were breadless. Given the sensitive nature of the poaching process the only two options were to complete then eat the eggs or send them to the Osaka incinerators. The two eggs alone on the plate looked pathetic and lonely. In my panic, I had undercooked the eggs by approximately one minute.

Most: Just after 10:30am, I made a trip to Family Mart then a trip to Kohyo in search of bread. Upon arrival at Kohyo, I discovered that every overcashed housewife in Tezukayama was there. Normally, this fact and their ruthless shopping methods could only be recorded as uninteresting, however some barking piqued my curiosity. It appears that every one of the aforementioned housewives uses several cash and point-cards, one of which makes a machine bark like a puppy when scanned. An 'electronic money' dog named Happy Waon (above) specialises in point collecting and singing. His hobby is shopping. A small sign at the counter read 'Electric Money Can Be Used At This Counter'.

PM

Least: At 2:35pm, I was transported back to work and back into a very familiar routine. Everything was exactly as I'd left it. The staff, the building, the now out-of-date postings, the students, the awkward smalltalk and the lack of useful breaks. At least the sheer sameness of it all caused absolutely no stress. I'm sure it won't cause any stress for the rest of my time there.

Most: At about 9:05pm, I took my usual seat in the very last carriage of the Nankai Local at Nakamozu station. Some familiar characters were there, including the cougher in his brown suit, and the young pastry chef thumbing his latest edition of the glossy mag 'Super Patissier Book'. One stranger tended a finger wound with a tissue. Most interesting though, was an unfamiliar bloated wreck who, suffering some ailment, began placing numerous (about 30) adhesive magnets to his chest and wrists. I hope his illness wasn't serious. The tanned girl wearing her all-yellow softs didn't blink and fell asleep.

The Perfect Peach?

AM

Least: Pretty close to 8:50am, I cut an equator around a too-large peach that I bought from a street seller a couple of days ago. Despite twisting firmly, the greenish flesh refused to part from the stone. The most disappointing aspect of this particular peach was that its complexion was perfect - not a scar nor a browning hollow - but its insides were watery and tart. The Japanese art of overpackaging is rife amongst supermarket fruits - particularly peaches. The foamish coverings give the impression that they are protecting something excellent, however it it merely make-up - mutton dressed as lamb. For a few thousand yen, you can buy your boss a box of twelve as part of the summer gifting process - I wouldn't bother.

Most: I rose this morning at about 8:20am with a strong urge to open Truman Capote's In Cold Blood and keep reading. There were simply not enough waking hours last night to complete it. The incredible clarity of the writing and the rhythm that switches between the victims and the criminals gives reading it movie like momentum. Over the years, I've picked the book up and never bothered to buy it, but the ten dollar Popular Penguin was too good an offer to refuse. I've no doubt that I will finish it by the end of PM tonight.

PM

Least: Sometime close to 4:00pm, the dread of going back to ECC drone-hood began bothering me. As dreads go, it's a pretty bland version - no preparation and not much mystery. In my attempt to make today drag on, I tried to make the least of my time today to little avail. I extended the cover of my sunburn through.


大きな地図で見る

Most: Just after 12:20pm, Rosie and I wheeled down to Namba for a bite. Instead of taking the increasingly uninteresting routes previously describe in this blog, we opted for some almost randomly chosen streets. Our bikes took us through the surprisingly hilly and windy area just north of Tezukayama and down through Tengachaya's less trafficked roads. What we saw was almost like another city with a completely different atmosphere. There were lots of people sitting around in the heat, old men wearing kimono-like duds, baffling small businesses, and the rubbery smell of bicycle recycling. For some reason it reminded us of Vietnam.

___________
Food note: At the Conveyor Sushi trough that we often haunt, a young girl and her Grandfather shared their sushi. As usual, the Grandfather spent much of his time scraping wasabi paste from otherwise delicious dishes. The most touching moment though, was when they shared a generous piece of whale bacon - the little girl ate the meat, the Grandfather chewed the fat. Nice.

The Bike and the Castle

AM

Least: By 11:30am, I was riding my bike towards Daikokucho. As usual, I was on the footpath and as usual I spent much of my time dodging slow-moving pedestrians and oncoming bicycles. My flattening tyres didn't help either - I was forced to pay 50 yen for compressed air. If I was game enough to ride on the deadly road my journey might've taken half the time as long as I didn't die in transit.

Most: Approaching 11:59am, I rode north with Jack through the backish streets towards Osaka Castle. It was amazing to be so engulfed by the city and we wondered how every apartment block could be full, or how the thousands of minor restaurants and bars could survive all pitted against one another. Although the direct sunlight was oppressive, we made it to our destination after a small detour over a bridge or two.

PM

Least: Sometime around 5:00pm, I discovered an unlikely victim of the humidity and heat. My quarter-filled jar of Nescafe Gold instant coffee had collapsed into a cube. With the lid only half screwed on, the freeze-dried granules stood no chance. The 98% humidity won - no more coffee from that jar.

Most: Just after 1:00pm, I caught my first glimpse of the ramparts of Osaka-jo. The scale of the stonework is enormous, imposing and no doubt intimidating to military planners. Some of the stones were so large that it seemed impossible that they could have been placed so accurately 400 years ago. Expensive drinks were available in the bailey and be-samuried men posed for photographs in between picking up rubbish with tongs. Despite the external qualities of the castle, the interior looked like most other multi-storey buildings. Foolishly we climbed the stairs rather than taking the lift. Most impressive were the suits of armour from 1615ish and the holographic dioramas on the 7th floor. From the viewing deck I could see as far as the Tsutenkaku through the smog. Luckily I could also keep an eye out for my bike, which was a speck on the other side of the outer moat. Lamentably, I forgot my camera and could only squeeze off a couple of shots of ultra low-res phone pics (above). I will return.

The Art of the Japanese Barbecue

AM
Least: At about 9:15am, I woke to find that I was horrifically dehydrated and that my bag was yet to be unpacked. The plane ride, combined with too much kushikatsu left me with a tired aching head and a parched throat. The unquenchable thirst lasted over an hour and came back to haunt me in the pm part of the day.

Most: By about 11:00am, I began thinking about whether my brief trip home had affected my view of Japan. I'm not exactly sure what the change has been, but it feels like I've been reading a book and had a chance to flip between two chapters. The Australia visit has refreshed my reference point to Japan and may make it even more interesting. I feel refreshed and ready for another stint in this oddity of a land.

PM

Least: Not too long after 12:20am, Rosie and I crawled into the familiar heat of Osaka and went searching for the massive Ooizumi Koen nearish to Nakamozu. We ended up strolling down this road with no shade and a Queenslandish sun roasting our brains. We arrived at the park to meet a decaying water feature (above) and waited to meet with Rosie's Japanese colleagues. We finally met them after a sweet 30mins in the sun. By then our beer was beginning to get warm.

Most: Thankfully, by 1:30pm, our picnic-mates were setting the Japanese barbecue into motion. Charcoal was set smoldering, flammable gels were lit and fans waved to bully the fire into life. The food then was grilled like clockwork. Various meats, vegetables were seared and potatoes wrapped in Disney foil were roasted. The carefully chosen dipping sauces tipped the preferred barbecue nation status to the Japanese. Although the usual flames and manly hotplate scraping were absent, the end result gave amazing variety compared to the often meagre offerings found in Australia. And to think the Japanese look up to Australia as a high ranking barbecue culture.

The Girls in Orange

AM

Least: by about 9:20am, I was immersed in the teeming culture of Coolangatta Airport. The length and density of the queue suggested that somewhere in the stinking bowels of that half-finished terminal chaos ruled. Worse, were the shifty blonde Jetstar staff. One of them quietly failed to tell us that Rosie and I weren't sitting together, then upon complaining, we saw them making snide remarks via their 'walkie-talkies'. The orange girl at the information desk fed us a pile of turds until we got what we wanted.

Most: Close to midday, I was closing in on the end of And the Ass Saw the Angel. For some yet to be determined reason (and despite my initial complaints) the book was almost a page turner. The story of the inbred mute living in absolute squalor and at war with the townsfolk needed Nick's outrageous use of language to give it legs. While jetting up the east coast, I could almost smell the slime and filth dripping from me. Worth a read if you've time on your hands and you own a good dictionary.

PM

Least: By about 1:00pm, it was blindingly clear that being in the middle isle of an Airbus A330 was incredibly uninteresting to the point of being painful. I began to hate the people in front of me, who'd paid for their reclining leisure with my cramps. I began to think poorly of the guy sitting next to me - how long was he going to sleep? Being in row 45, I could experience every visitation to the three toilets just metres from my tiny perch. The food was appalling.

Most: Perhaps around 2:00pm, the flightdeck told me that to our left was a rare view of Port Moresby and a chain of PNG's islands. My some miracle, it coincided with a rare walk down the isle to the rear toilet. Through a porthole in an emergency exit, I could clearly see the city and the white-fringed islands trailing into the distance. I should've snapped a photo - it was the last thing I saw outside until Kansai.

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Saturday 15 August 2009

AM

Least: At about 10:00am while driving down the Monash Freeway, it became obvious that this part of the journey would be the least interesting event of anyone's day. The roadworks, bogan ute-drivers and incoherent line markings all mount to a painful experience. A Ducati was left on the side of the road awaiting it's master's return. Probably a drink-rider from the night before.

Most: Not long after 11:30am, Rosie and I arrived at a Coburg address for an incredible brunch with family that included baked cinnamon scrolls, onion pastries, croissants, watermelon, juice and baked eggs. What an amazing send off meal for our too brief trip to Melbourne and surrounds. Ceridwen is an excellent chef, mum and sister! Awesome.

PM

Least: At about 3:45pm, the sight of a providore style food shop one street back from the decreasingly interesting Brunswick Street, boringly reinforced what has been obvious for years. The richer Fitzroy becomes the less interesting it seems to be. It's all so comfortable and predictable that it's barely of interest to notice it. Black leather jackets appear to cover most of the stinking offenders - but the 80s still reign.

Most: By 7:00pm, I had the distinct feeling that our surprise attack on Melbourne was beginning to wind down. The most interesting think to strike me during my return was to what extent I noticed how rough Melbourne seems to be. I'm sure that it hasn't changed, but my perception of the inner city must've moved. The sheer numbers of dodgy characters wheeling around the streets was amazing. As long as my eyes met the ground, I felt safe. The most striking moment was the sight of a Japanese visitor buying junk at a souvenir shop recoiling in horror as an old crone scraped the sputum from her chin. The glittering city at its best.

A Tram and Some Minty Houses

Friday August 14 2009

AM

Least: At about 11:45am, I was evaluating my feelings toward tram travel in Melbourne. On the vaguely interesting side is that they are 'so Melbourne' and a little quaint, however on the negative side there sits a grim litany. The tram from Bourke Street to Clifton Hill had a few major flaws. It was hopelessly indirect, weaving through and doubling up on other routes. It stopped at every possible point along the journey. It had an unidentifiable, but unpleasant and uninteresting smell. The bogan electronic voice told me that while I was speaking on my phone, I was not as alert as otherwise. Odd.

Most: The walk to Oakleigh station from about 11:00am until about 11:15am became interesting, if only for the number of weatherboard houses painted mint. All were of similar design and all were in similar states of decay. It was difficult to tell whether people had chosen slightly different shades of mint, or the sun had simply been more cruel to some.

PM

Least: Sometime after 5:30pm, I sat on a graffiti covered seat in a suburban train. The whole carriage in fact, looked like an over made up teenager after a big night on the tiles. Most of the tags were still slightly visible despite the best efforts of the hapless cleaners. White marker on electric blue fabric appears to be a most stubborn stain.

Most: Near enough to 3:00pm, Rosie and I stepped into the 'A Day in Pompeii' exhibition at the Melbourne Museum. The rooms were filled with incredible artifacts from Italy and packed with ooing and ahhing people. The most interesting and haunting pieces were the plaster casts of the victims of the vast pyroclastic flow that engulfed the town nearly 2000 years ago. Scientists think that Naples with be next.

The Traveller and the Attendant

Thursday 13 August 2009

AM

Least: By 10:20am, I was marvelling once again about the longness and straightness of the Hume Freeway. The land on either side is so flat and lacking in changing features that it often feels like the car is on some kind of treadmill. The McDonalds at Glenrowen was slow as usual. Also as usual was the over made-up bottle blonde chugging on a Muggacino. Amazingly, I saw her in the PM in an incredibly uninteresting shopping mall in Melbourne.

Most: Sometime close to 8:00am, I was being driven through on of the highest roads in Australia. Mt Hotham was covered in wet, dirty snow and cloaked by very thick cloud. Despite the incredible views of Mt Feathertop and Mt Buffalo being obscured, it is this part of the five hour drive from Omeo to Melbourne that makes it bearable. It is incredible to think of the contrast between this remote area and the vast sprawl of Melbourne.

PM

Least: At about 2:20pm, I overheard a woman at Oakleigh Station ask the attendant "Does the next train stop at Southern Cross station?" The attendant groaned back "I don't know". This brief is not in the least bit interesting because it probably happens every day. The customer is too lazy to look at the schedule and the attendant is bored witless by his job. It is also uninteresting to tut tut and compare Melbourne's and Osaka's public transport system so I will end here.

Most: Not too long after 6:30opm, I sat with friends and family at an excellent Italian 'straunt in Brunswick. The company and La Bussola delivered the goods. I had been thinking about this particular pizza and veal scallopini for a number of months. The veal was tender and the pizza outstanding. Well worth the long journey from Japan. It is surprising that not more people escape Japan simply to obtain acceptable Italian food. Pizza and pasta in Japan is often very strange and inexplicably covered in corn kernels. Something should be done.

The Importance of Being Idle

AM

Least: Close to 8:30am, I waded through another short chapter of Nick's And the Ass Saw the Angel. Given his admirable rant on prolix, it is easy (and uninteresting) to begin groaning at the incredible purpure of his writing. He manages to create an interesting atmosphere of disgust impending terror but it's far too self conscious. At the very least, someone should've convinced dear Nick to remove every single use of ah and may for I and my. Nothing a pair of scissors can't fix.

Most: Just after 11:15am I sat on the front verandah drinking steaming black tea in the sun. Being idle seems to be an important feature of my time in the hills. Being idle gives me a chance to persevere with wordy books, examine possible fossils, bake by the fire, digest, cook, stare blankly or simply revel in being part of an idyll. This morning, I poached, read and resisted reading more of And the Ass Saw the Angel, drank tea, fed the magpies and currawongs, spied on superb fairy wrens, looked inside an interesting stone, lit the fire and watched darkening clouds change and drift by. Ideal, but I won't even try to explain it to my more earnest, everywhere, early rising inquisitors.

PM

Least: Sometime around 2:30pm, I inadvertently glanced at some daytime television. The appalling sound capturing every rustle of clothing, every smack of lips and every boring breath took me straight back to memories of days sick at home crawling by. Today's monstrosity seemed to consist of ghosts and flashbacks. Simply awful.

Most: At about 7:15pm I began thinking about my last day in the country and my return to Osaka. This town is almost the exact opposite of my like in Tezukayama. It is cold, completely uncrowded, people only speak English, read hair is common, sashimi is unobtainable and I don't have to work strange hours. This short diversion from my life in Japan will no doubt make Osaka even more bizarre and interesting. Tomorrow back to Melbourne.

Skis. Rain. Lamb.

AM

Least: By 11:15am, my enfeebled quadriceps were screaming at the top of their voice against any further skiing. My snap decision to ski over snowboarding turned out to be a foolish one. I hadn't been skiing since about 1990 and have been largely inactive since the turn of the century. Keeping up with several school students proved to be difficult. The basic skills were there, but the strength and desire to try hard were not. Skiing in the rain was far less interesting than I had imagined. The coffee cost $4.70.

Most: As early as 10:30am it became obvious that my largely intermittent trips to the slopes had left large gaps in my awareness of snowboarding culture. When I had begun snowboarding at the end of the 1980s, I was the target of both keen interest and vitriol from skiers. Since those heady days, snowboards have become ever more symmetrical, probably shorter and relatively less expensive. The swarms of boarders now pass by unnoticed, unless the bogans aboard are causing a ruckus with snowboards or dangerous accidents. I even saw multiple offenders carrying large balls of snow onto the lift to use as ammo against their chums. How times and my levels of tolerance have changed. Helmets are ubiquitous.

PM

Least: Close to 2:00pm, the rain had really started to fall on Mt Hotham, on me, and onto the snow. The snow conditions were worsening with each new millilitre of drizzle that fell. My clothing's defences held up valiantly, but were steadily eroded by a series of wet chairlift seats and leaks around the neck area. By 2:50pm, I retreated into a steamy ski hire centre. The 'Buster Bacon' hotdog I bought at 'The Kennel' cost a sweet $6:50.

Most: Close to 7:00pm I achieved my primary goal for my trip to Australia. I was able to eat heartily from a leg of lamb roasted in an oven. Inexplicably, the Japanese haven't taken to eating lamb on a grand scale. Perhaps it's the strong delicious aroma and taste that deters them. The lamb was expertly cooked and arrived on the table with a generous cluster of roasted vegetables. It is amazing how smells and flavours trigger strong memories. Already it feels like I'd never left for Japan, although the reports of quakes and storms quickly pique the interest. I'll miss the lamb more than ever upon my return to the Far East.

The Relief of Birds

AM

Least: I woke this morning at about 7:30am to discover my ears ringing. The extreme lack of noise outside meant that the faint squeal from the inner reaches of my ears became the loudest sound in the room. The noise of big cities seems to hide and cause all kinds of ringing . The noise of industrial society need industrially loud music to drown it out. Five days a week I shut out the sound of the rails and endless announcements by listening to various variations of rock n roll. Maybe we could measure how close a town is to death by the ringing in ones ears?

Most: By 8:00ish am, some noise had crept into the backyard and relieved the ringing. The birds were browsing the grass for seeds or hapless insects in their daily struggle. Through the window, I could hear and see magpies, fairy wrens, crows, currawongs, satin bower birds (above) and the usual flying mice. As usual the magpies were busy bullying the other aviators out of anything of value. I've always been suspicious of magpies since they pecked blood out of my head when I was three. The crows here don't speak Japanese.

PM

Least: By almost 3:00pm, I had been the victim of several attacks of regional advertising. Universally terrible sound, lighting, acting and scripts set Gippsland television advertising apart from all others. A particularly appalling example repeatedly offended my senses today. During the ad for Bairnsdale Motel, we are given a demonstration to show that the rooms have enough room to literally 'swing a cat'. You are welcome to stay there for business or pleasure. It is not actually in Bairnsdale.

Most: Just after 12:00pm, I walked through the bush to to the old gold mining areas that boosted Omeo to former grandeur. I trundled past numerous examples of the environmental destruction of the past 140 odd years. Deeply eroded gullies, piles of river stones, weeds, decrepit fruit trees, a burnt-out pine plantation, ancient rubbish, dangerous shafts and tunnels make this well trodden track interesting. As kids we used to explore the old mines for hours with string and candles. It is amazing that the local environment is still reeling from the gold rush - but at least it made growing up in this town interesting.

The Crazy Train That Was Late

AM

Least: According to my ticket, I bought my ticket fro the 10:35am train to Drouin at 10:27am. I rushed to Flinders Street in a taxi in the fear that I'd miss my date with platform 10. I needn't of worried, nor did I need to spend $20 on a taxi, for the train was half an hour late. At 10:40am, a crackling announcement assaulted the platform with the news that the train would be delayed by 15 minutes. Wishful thinking. The train was loud and slow and the cars were arranged in no particular order. There were three car Bs. I couldn't find seat number 65.

Most: At about 8:30am, I was delighting in sitting down to a deliciously western breakfast in the company of my sister, her husband and my niece. It was amazing to see how my niece had changed from the days-old baby into the laughing near-toddler of this morning. I left the house in Coburg on a family-high with the hope of catching a quick train into town.

PM

Least: At about 1:30ish pm, I began the too-long drive to Omeo. The terrain is so familiar that until the mountains it it pretty far from interesting. The dreary towns that interrupt the trip seem to get drearier each year. Unlike Japan, though, there are gaps in the ordinariness filled with over grazed paddocks. At least I didn't get car sick.

Most: At about 5:00pm, I disembarked onto the gravel of a driveway in Omeo. The temperature was about 7 degrees and especially relieving considering the 30 degree 90% humidity of Osaka-town. The hills surrounding the town are incredibly dry and sparse. With little else to do, splitting wood for the the fire was particularly satisfying.

Surprise

AM

Least: At about 11:25am I was sitting in Don Vincenzo eating breakfast. The chatter of other breakfasters was far more annoying than the chatter suffered in Japan. Being back in Melbourne, I can understand what people around me are saying. Eavesdropping is usually uninteresting and I prefer being left to my own thoughts in the fuzzy static of Japan.

Most: At about 10:40am, I boarded a tram towards Fitzroy. The tram was populated with the usual kind of shop-girl, hipster and boomer but also a cheerful chromer huffing into his bag of blue paint. The fact that no-one blinked on the tram says something interesting about Melbourne - were people scared, too cool or just non-plussed?. I wonder how a paint sniffer with an imaginary friend would go down in Osaka?

PM

Least: At 12:40am, I stepped out of a taxi into the whiter than white Northcote and walked into the Northcote Social Club intending to gatecrash a family gathering. No-one was there, not even a distant relative. A phone call full of weather-related lies later, I stood and waited for another taxi. Rosie mused that Northcote used to be more like Oakleigh and more interesting. What middle-class white people like, middle-class white people get- blandness.

Most: Not long after 1:00pm, and after an abortive attempt in Northcote, Rosie and I walked into the Carringbush Hotel in Abbotsford to surprise my family. The wild reaction proved that out secretive preparations had been very successful. As the tears flowed, questions were asked about how we pulled off such an amazing stunt. I ordered a steak and chips and necked a couple of Carlton Draughts not one kilometre from the brewery.

The Secret

AM

Least: By 12:01am I had been at 39000 feet for three hours on my secret voyage to Australia. Between 12:01am and 6:30am, I sat awake, having already watched a bowdlerised version of Slumdog Millionaire and exhausted the 'entertainment' package. The view of thick typhoony cloud out the window, did little to distract me from the constant sneezing, coughing and snoring of hundreds of other 'pax', mostly Japanese. One child appeared to have a nervous cough, another flyer sneezed at a rate of 6 per-minute, while a guy across from me gurgled through his blocked nose like a perculator. It seemed impossible that so many people could be so annoying for so long. The airline food-based farting started at about 2:00am. Two out of the four toilets were functioning.

Most: At about 3:30am, our ship jetted over the Bismarck Sea and Papua New Guinea. By this time a fullish moon had made an appearance and the dead ocean finally coughed up a few lights. A few pinpricks at sea I imagined to be small islands or oil rigs and a cluster on the northern coast of PNG may have been Madang, Sio or old Finschaffen, and another may have been a giant mining operation. Either way, it was interesting to imagine the life that was spending the night down on the ground. Mostly, they were probably sleeping in darkened villages, yet to get a scrap from the minerals being taken from them by the megaton.

PM

Least: As I arrived in Melbourne at about 12:15pm to the news of a 2:00pm check-in I looked with disinterest at the same hipster uniformity that had annoyed me six months ago. In everyone's desperate quest for 'cool' people seem to be as conservative as ever - black on grey on black*. It's easier to look like a young B-Dylan when it's 11 degrees. Beards seem to be on the decline however. (*note me wearing black on grey above)

Most: As we were welcomed to the Windsor by a man in a top hat sometime after 2:15pm, Rosie and I glee'd over our six year anniversary and the success to date of our plan for a surprise visit to Melbourne. Since the 22nd of April we have been quietly being quiet about our holiday plans. An internet blackout and light misinformation campaign in July appears to have worked to cloak our intentions to crash my Mum and Sister's birthday meal in Northcote. Rosie's sister, Virginia literally collapsed in a heap at the sight of Rosie at her door on Tuesday. Tomorrow's big entry will be very interesting indeed - provided our intelligence on the party's time and location is accurate.

_________________
Food Note:

Lowlight: The Jetstar breakfast choice number 1 was an egg and cheese roll on over-herbed bread. The soggy clot was nothing other than repulsive.

Highlight: By about 7:00pm I was delighting in the Deep-Fried Pork-Belly with Red Curry at Cookie in Swanston Street. The costly German Riesling was incredible.

The Problem With Terry

AM

Least: By about 9:48am, I was crawling through multiple TV channels in an attempt to escape Terry Ito. The problem with Terry is that he seems to be always on television. His shows are universally long and numerous -he haunts the TV for about 60 hours a month. His role seems to be to offer a sliver of class to otherwise utterly vacuous programs. He occasionally smirks and is the butt of friendly and carefully managed ribbing. He his a producer, commentator, actor and wit. Terry can be identified by his trademark candy-cane suit and hat, or when he is chillaxing, in his casual man-of-the-weekend gear. Recently his image was carefully crafted into a splat ball. Today, he did nothing of interest. I burnt my last two slices of bread.

Most: Pretty close to 8:30am, as we were watering Rosie's balcony garden, I was struck by the speed of its growth. The basil, rosemary, sage, fern, nasturtium, chilli, creeper and carrot lawn seem be growing without suffering from the numerous assaults from insects and extreme weather as experienced in Australia. The clutter from the seasons is growing at speed too - flapping fish from Spring and the tinkling bells from Summer. The hills surrounding Osaka are impenetrable with growth and power line towers and the rice paddies are greener than green. It will be interesting to see what we can grow in winter and to find out about the next item of cultural clutter.

PM

Least: Upon my return to Tezukayama at approximately 1:10pm, I discovered that the sheets that I had hung out to dry were still damp. The humidity seemed to have won the battle over heat. During the day I could see the downpours punishing the mountains toward Nara, but all we got was a blast of incredibly soupy air. That the town was built on a swamp probably doesn't help.

Most: At 12:20pm, the gentleman sitting next to me at the 'Kaiten-Zushi' took a plate carrying two raw prawns in their entirety. Normally this would not pique my interest in the slightest, but he then began sucking every last molecule of entrails from the crustacean's head. Not satisfied with mere suction, he tore open the exoskeleton and began licking. Satisfied he had been victorious, he then ate the less interesting parts of the prawns. There's no accounting for taste or a sense of one's safety. That plate cost 120yen - what else it may have cost him we will never know.

Embracing Breezes and Dodging Bullets

AM

Least: Around 7:40am, I began to feel the growing dread of my workday. This may be a particularly harsh day, given that so many of my colleagues have taken a day off and started the summer holiday early. This means that there is a long overtime list for today, and that works like a sieve, leaving the most awful shifts for the likes of me. I can already hear the earnest voice on the phone reeling off the list of classes for the day. At 11:06am I dodged a bullet with a boringly straightforward shift at Umeda (see AMPM this time last week). At least it has a spectacular view.

Most: At about 7:20am this morning I opened the sliding door of my suffocating bedroom to discover a rare and refreshing breeze. For the first time this summer I was able let the wind carry the heat and the stuffiness to bother someone else. (see the god responsible above) An vaguely interesting change in the weather, after at least a month of incredible sameness. I wonder if the cool weather will eventually arrive in the same way that the heat did - as if someone flicked a giant switch from spring to summer in an instant.

PM

Least: By 12:01pm, I was seriously wondering what to do with my huge amounts of surplus daylight time. The time between morning and work is not quite long enough to do anything much Japanesy but long enough to wish I was doing something Japanesy. Watching bad cooking shows and appallingly wigged Samurai dramas has really lost its cack value. I need a new project.

Most: As it turned out, my luncheon at about 12:40pm was the most interesting event of the PM, despite the geeks speaking brilliantly about computers and Japanese girlfriends at work. Kohyo supermarket supplied me with a delight of a meal. The Katsuo Tataki was excellent - bonito sashimi lightly seared by burning grass and drenched in lemony soy sauce. The Osaka style sushi was of mackerel, but cured and pressed onto perfect rice. Although my fishy hands and breath whiffed of otters, I loafed about for the afternoon satisfied and amazed at the quality of supermarket meals. Incredible.
________________
Food Note:

Highlight: A lunch of Battera sushi and Katsuo Tataki from the supermarket. If no-one was watching I would've drank the ponzu dressing.

Pancakes and Hiragana in August

AM

Least: By about 11:20am the daily thought that my knowledge of Japanese is appalling, pricked my conscience. I signed on to Smart FM and found that I hadn't studied in weeks. It told me to study fifty items today rather than the usual thirty. I should've learnt hiragana in February, but it's August and I still walk around like Miffy with no mouth and nothing to say.

Most: Near enough to 10:15am, I constructed some pancakes for breakfast in lieu of sugary Japanese bread. The box of Morinaga pancake mix never fails, possibly due to the cartoon instructions on the back. When the pancakes are smiling, they are ready to hit the plate. But in case you get stuck - you can watch the instructional video.

PM

Least: I returned home at about 10:18pm with a bag of garbage incinerator fuel from Family Mart to a chilly reception. The airconditioning had been left on all day, cooling, furniture, crockery, tatami mats, curtains and books. Thankfully, the TV tells me from time to time that nuclear power is incredibly safe and environmentally friendly. The electricity bill will tell me that it's expensive too.

Most: At about 10:05pm, I looked up and saw the the sky was incredibly clear tonight. The seemed to have a few more pixels that that factory haze normally allows. The thickish veil of smog that often invades the senses, smell a lot like burning garbage or a house that is aflame. If only the clear sky meant a cool crisp night.

The Irony of Ironing Non-Iron Shirts

AM

Least: Between 10:40am and about 10:55am, I sweated through the ironing of three non-iron shirts. The thin, chemical fabric is supposed to breathe and allow the lucky wearer to airily breeze through the day without fear of sweat-through. Even wearing a breathier undershirt, the sweat still beads on my forearms reaching the surface layer in an instant. Sometimes, I look as though I may have been washing dishes. I'd wear a short-sleeve shirt, but with a tie, I think I look like someone who's come to fix the photocopier.

Most: Somewhere around 11:50am, I went on my almost daily stroll up to the Family Mart. Today there were two queues of tradesmen. All were in the strict uniform of a flannel do-rag and massively inflated pants. As usual they had cleaned out the refrigerated shelves of food so I settled for a tray of egg-laden sushi and inari. I completed my lunch with some red miso soup with a couple of pipi-sized clams lurking in the bottom. It will be interesting to see how many of the next 9 hours the feed will fuel me for.

PM

Least: Between 3:45pm and 8:00pm, I fell victim once again to the global financial crisis. With so many teachers around and slightly less students, doing 'light office work' can rule for hours. Today it was in Kishiwada adding promotional materials to packets of tissues. It is incredibly common to be offered tissues on the street, but incredibly uncommon to see people emptying their noses in public. The underbelly of the recession is pretty far from interesting - especially when it's happening to me.

Most: Relieved of my working duties at 9:35pm, I legged it to the station to find that I'd missed the express train to Tengachaya. The next best, and more interesting option was to board the Rapi:t B for an extra 500yen. The Rapi:t B is a very interesting and fast machine. It has the face or a 1970s anime robot and the innards of the inside of a sleazy private jet from the same decade. The internet tells me that the Nankai 5000 series were designed by an architect with the design theme 'Outdated Future' and began rolling in 1995.