The Mean Streets of Sakai

AM

Least: Sometime between 2:00am and 3:00am, I woke groggily from my less than sleepy slumber. The night was silent except for the drone of a flight of pigeons that had decided to rest on the roof next door for the night. The pigeon problem has slightly diminished, however I suspect that the local flying rat chapter is planning a comeback. They were still there at 8:00am when I got out of bed. How boring for them.

Most: At nearly 11:00am, I felt the extremely unsettling sensation of actually missing the television. Despite earlier reports on this blog, I craved a half and hour or so of utter crap to help fill in the gaps of my morning. I have also sensed a gathering distance from everyday Japanese life and the ongoing courtcase of Noriko Sakai. It is amazing to think that an utterly vacuous stream of information could get addictive. I will resist for now and not pay my NHK bill as a reward.

PM

Least: Just after 3:15pm, I groaned again as the scrubbers from a nearby high school, flitted into my train carriage. Despite their Japanese flavour, they had all of the boring characteristics of bogans from the Melbourne suburbs. The general look included badly dyed hair, inches of make-up, dirty looks towards other girls and incredibly short skirts. Each of them could have easily fitted in to any notorious school a person could name. I wonder what their mothers think?

Most: Between 8:00pm and 8:40pm, I spoke to one of my regular students about living in Sakai city. Being from the north of Osaka, she viewed Sakai as an unrelenting hellhole. Her paranoia even extended to a fear of murderers lurking in the backstreets at night. Sakai is famous for its knives so maybe she has a point. Her fear of crime seems to be duplicated throughout Osaka to the extent that there are areas such as Shinsaibashi where some Japanese fear to tread. She also informed my that gangsters were easy to spot because they all have golden hair. I wonder how she would go on the slightly meaner streets of Melbourne?

Pencils are made from trees and tomatos

AM

Least: By 11:00am, my before-work time had already evaporated. While the carrot of working a day shift is finishing early, the pain of a short day at home is acute. The morning of the day shift is without the slow motion activity of a late start and becomes a strange period when time actually matters. Sometimes having a massive time surplus can be boring, but being time poor is even worse.

Most: Just before 8:55am, I was walking around the park with the usual actors in all of their positions, smoking or getting ready to crack a can of beer. On my second lap, I viewed a scene which a person could only experience in Japan. The robes and white slippers of a monk were visible was he pissed at the public toilet, while in the background a school bus bedecked in Anpanman cartoon drove past. The koala spring-ride (see my file photo above) nodded softly in agreement that the sight was kind of amazing.


PM

Least: Between 12:00pm and about 4:00pm, I had the terrifyingly boring task of marking and judging handwritten essays by high school students. There were fifty of them. All of them seemed to be about improving Japan's relationship with the world, some of them were about Walt Disney, and too few were very good at all. One student made the wild claim that pencils were made from trees and tomatos while another credited Walt Disney for giving the world hope. After a couple of hours of reading, my eyes swam on the page and my brain was emitting only death-like signals to my body. I hope the contest is a once a year event.

Most: At about 6:20pm, I strolled through Den Den town with my neighbours before we went home. The most striking thing about the area after the brightly lit figurine shops, is the clutches of Maids spruiking for their cafes. Some of the girls were outrageously dressed with frills, long socks and kitten ears. One particularly hefty woman was wearing a pink frilly lolita outfit but looked as if she'd just stepped off a farm with massive arms and powerful legs. Very odd.

The Last Weekend in September

Sunday 27th September 2009

AM

Least: Just after 5:00am, I was jolted out of my fitful sleep by the first of perhaps a hundred tram rollbys for the day. If only the Japanese engineers could have made the track as smooth as the rail network so that my sleep would be left uninterrupted. The Melbourne-ish clunk of the wheels as they pass over the gaps in the rails has the effect of shaking Sanshou at its foundations. I have heard that the Uemachi tramline (see bizarred simulation right) has been in danger of closure in the past, only to be saved by nostalgic locals who apparently live nowhere near the wonky rails.



Most: At close to 9:30am, I finally added wireless internet to our flat after days of technlogical agony. I thought I'd give it one more try after a thought I had in the very early hours of the morning. My idea failed miserably, but an idiot's guide on the internet showed me how to set the wretched thing up in less that ten minutes. Amazingly, the shonky 'bloadband' router came to life gave our laptop new freedom. The triumph I felt literally left me punching the air. Amazing.

PM

Least: Just after 2:00pm,  I scoured Youtube for footage of one Brendan Fevola disgracing himself on national TV during the Brownlow telecast. He was clearly incredibly drunk and displaying the rank boganism that is so rife in the AFL. The most boring part of it will be his fellow players tut tut tutting about his behaviour even though most of them do the very same thing every weekend. Good one Brendan.

Most: Not too long after 1:00pm, I began the very satisfying process of cooking the Autumny meal of Sanma. A student told me how to make the dish a few weeks ago, and I watched carefully as Tee of Tee's Kitchen cooked one up for me. I bought two of the long silvery fish for 200 yen down at Life and prepared them according to the simple instructions. I scored one side of the fish, added plenty of salt then grilled them in the fish grill for a total of nine minutes. The result was spectacular (above) and I served them with grated daikon, ponzu dressing and a squeeze of kabosu. I'm now looking for a new cooking adventure.

The Trains of Wrath

 Saturday 26th September 2009
 

AM

Least: As I punched in at work at exactly 10:43am, I noticed that the same time had appeared no less that three times in the past month. It seems that my routine from my doorstep to work has become deeply entrenched. Even though I often browse in the Lawson convenience before I ride the lift to work on the  sixth floor the time somehow remains the same. Maybe next week, I should try the coffee at Mr Donut on the first floor.

Most: At 9:13am, I once again boarded the train at Tezukayama on my weekly pilrimage to Wakayama. Many of the same characters were sitting in the carriage and I decided to disappear using my Ipod and copy of Grapes of Wrath. Even though, I've crawled through the Steinbeck classic, today I just couldn'd put it down. As well as providing an extra layer of personal space protection, it is a cracking read. Even drifting down train lines in Japan, I still felt as if I was part of the book being pushed from place to place in search of work with wages ever lowering. I must've been on commuter autopilot because when I looked up I was stepping onto the platform at Wakayama.

PM

Least: At nearly 5:50pm the so-called Kishuji Rapid service speaker told everyone to leave the train at the impossibly remote Hineno station. I imagine that there had been some sort of trouble down the line towards Tennoji and that the delays meant a radical rethinking of train times and my trip home. I followed the hurrying crowd onto another platform, only to have to turn around a minute later to return to the platform from which the hundreds of people had just evacuated. To make the trip more boring, I underwent the indignity of catching a bluer than blue local train (above)  back to Mikunigaoka which meant stopping at every station. Despite the apparent efficency of the rail network, a blip can mean chaos.

Most: After 9:00pm, I sat down to watch the first episode of X-Files. It was amazing to see how dated the show was in terms of fashion and production. Even the SWAT team looked as if it had just left the set of the A-Team. Still, it was pretty enjoyable even after all this time even though it was weirdly streched on our huge screen. It will be a real journey to trawl back through every episode. Once again the internet saves the day.

The Battle for Bloadband

Friday 25th September 2009

AM

Least: At about 9:00am, I woke feeling completely dehydrated. The weather on Thursday was expectedly warm and created an uncomfortably hot night. I feared for a moment that the cool of a couple of weeks ago was an abberation. I felt as if I had a hangover, yet without any memory of revellry and this feeling lasted until well into the afternoon. No amount of water or staring at the playstation screen seemed to do any good. An utterly empty morning.

Most: Close to 11:00am, I peered through the netting on the balcony to find that my intermittent study of katakana was beginning to pay dividends. A sign on a mountain of tissue-related product over at the Drug-11 read something along the lines of  "Early Bird Special". The sign finally explained the ridiculously long queues on certain days of the week that had been the subject of intense speculation for seven months. Now it all makes sense and fits perfectly into the Japanese habit of being incredibly bargain conscious. Hazaar!

PM

Least: Sometime after 6:00pm, I enlisted a our friendly neighbour in an attempt to set up the already boring router. Despite his best efforts, my dream of wireless internet was shattered. I became especially discouraged when I read the box and it read in English "Wireless Bloadband". I should have smelled a rat back in Den Den town.

Most: At nearly 7:00pm, I dashed up to the bottle shop to raid its supplied of tinned tomatoes. Outside the barn-like shop sat thousands of cans of the hangover inducing Chu-Hi and as many cartons of beer. Incredibly, the shop also passes as an understocked supermarket that allows the drinking man to cook up all manner of junk food for his night in front of the TV. The most interesting thing about the store though, are the massive barrels of what I assume to be Shochu. By any measure, the Japanese seem to be extremely heavy drinkers and appear to revel in afterwork drunkeness. At least it keeps the can scavengers in business.

Internet vs Television

Thursday 24th September

AM

Least: At about 9:00am, I woke an realised that I still didn't have the internet and that I had to go to work. The short break, while nice, was hardly relaxing. The internet problem consumed the whole boring morning, first with a call to our service provider, then a call by Rosie  to NTT. NTT had an English line, however each painful and useless step had to be translated into in Japanese the back into English with a reply. The incredible lack of imagination of the people at NNT meant that even when we had discovered a possible solution, they continued on their same robotic path. They organised to send a team around to help, which we later cancelled.

Most: At close to 11:00am, our internet connection came back to life. It is amazing how much the world turns on the internet when you're not connected. Messages were piled up and AMPM was three days in arrears. I also noticed that Sydney had suffered the indignity of a dust storm and that 33% of Japanese men sit down while urinating. What a wonderful age we live in.

PM

Least: At about 6:30pm, I once again found myself being harangued into attending a workplace function at Nakamozu. The aggressive pitch of the boss, left little room to refuse and demanded a phone call if I couldn't attend. It is particularly galling, considering if I went I would probably have to pay for food and drinks, while acting as a caucasian English test dummy for creepy students. Further, to attend, I would have to make a detour on my way home from Wakayama on Saturday. That is not going to happen and there will be no phone call.

Most: At close to 9:30pm, I arrived home and unlike most nights, I did not turn on the TV. Having traded the crappy TV in for a HDD LCD monitor, I no longer have the tempation to watch the complete drivel that is Japanese TV. If I don't get sucked into the crazy world of online gaming, I should have much more time on my hands to read or actually go outside. I've almost forgotten already what I used to watch, and that was only days ago - and I think that speaks volumes about the rock bottom quality of television in Japan - they don't even have a sticom.

The Long Way Home

Wednesday 23rd September 2009
AM

Least: At about 8:10am, the spectre of a long wait for the bus haunted us once more. The bus that was to take us down through the valley to Okutama was a good forty minutes away. As we sat on the side of the road, it became clear how dangerous the road actually was. Tens of motorbikes raced down the side of the mountain with little regard for the occasional oncoming traffic. While sitting on the side of the road, I spotted evidence that Japanese glamour had reached this backwater - a single false eyelash sat in the dirt, probably lost by a bogan schoolgirl on camp. After the bus finally arrived, the road back into town was almost unbearable. The road authorities had decided that the best way to slow traffic was to place too-high rumble strips on the road for most of the way down. Rosie barely made it to the bottom, with nausea lurking at every corner. One day that part of the trip may seem better in hindsight.

Most: By 10:00am, I was looking out the window of the local train between Okutama and Ome. The scenery was pretty incredible, including the carfully controlled cliffs on every mountain side. They had been covered in concrete to prevent rockfalls and made a small attempt to look real. It seems that almost every part of nature is under careful control in Japan - except earthquakes of course. The towns were interesting too. Some of the houses still retained their thatched roofs, and on others, the thatch could be seen under sheet iron. In the mountains it was a good relief from the intense industrial development that greys so much of Japan's landscape. I'm going to try to head for the hills more often.

PM

Least: Sometime after 1:30pm, I got sick of looking out the window of the Shinkansen to Osaka. Apart from the headache from the rushing landscape, there wasn't much to see. Despite the occasional glimpse of the Pacific, the trip was mostly characterised by tunnels and smoke spewing factories (see my photo right). By the time, I began snoring, the train had almost reached Nagoya.

Most: At about 3:30pm, the grimy nature of Osaka really hit me. Being amongst the mountains for only a short time had clearly had an interesting effect. The night beside the river gave me a new reference point with which to gauge the living conditions in such a massive and hardworking city. The pollution and humidity were instantly apparent, and people were obviously tired as they looked down the barrel of returning to work after three days off. To assist my rehabilitation into Osakan life, I cooked okonomiyaki and to my satisfaction it was fantastic.

There's Metal in Them There Hills

Tuesday 22nd September 2009

AM

Least: Just after 10:30am, I patted my pockets to discover that I had left a notebook containing cruicial navigational data on the Shinkansen. Luckily, as I scoured the frightening map of JR East train lines, I saw a familiar station or two and, after sweating for a few minutes, worked out which four trains we had to catch. Although I was mildly confident of reaching Okutama, every change of train brought with it a nagging horror and complete disorientation. It was a relief to actually make it three hours later.

Most: At exactly 8:17am, the N700 Shinkansen on which we were travelling departed Shin-Osaka station. Although it was not my first ride on the crazy machine, it was interesting to see Japan fly by at at 300km/h. It was amazing to see the relentless industrial suburbia that stretched from Osaka to Shin-Yokohama interrupted only by scattered rice paddies. At one point I saw a lone man playing a saxophone in a deserted carpark, I hope our speeding bullet didn't disrupt him too much.

PM

Least: Not long after 1:20pm, we walked into Okutama, and after decoding the timetable, came to the stunning realisation that the number 12 bus that would take us to Tamagawa wasn't leaving until 2:45pm. After strolling around the sleepy town for ten minutes, eating a large fish on a stick (see food note), and buying needless snack to break an ichiman, Okutama left us in bored agony. We and already travelled for five hours, yet still we had to wait. A stone cold soba meal eased the pain, but the sight of the bus just sitting there was excruciating. Rosie reported that the toilets in the train station were appalling.

Most: By 5:20pm, we were watching Palm in full flight, playing before a backdrop of incredibly green and steep mountains. The camp was a carbon copy of the American summer camps as seen in horror movies, with an overuse use of logs for construction. The camp was beside an amazingly clear river (the Tamagawa) that revealed the no-doubt delicious trout waiting to be caught. Although the festival was not well attended, the atmosphere was great, with people barbecuing, drinking beer and listening to blistering grindcore. The musical highlights were Birushanah and Palm, although most of the bands were awesome. Thankfully Sano, from Hokage, organised a bungalow for the night and although uncomfortable, was far better than sleeping in the dust like some people did. A cracking night.

_____________________

Food Note: In Okutama, I bought a large trout that had been salted then roasted on a stick. The old codgers who were selling them probably caught them in the river and made a killing as people waited hours for buses. The fish was delicious in its simplicity and probably a bargain given that we were virual captives in that town.

The Market

Monday 21st September 2009


AM

Least: At about 10:45am, Rosie and I parked our bikes illegally at a Family Mart in Tennoji. As we walked towards the Shi-Tennoji market at the shrine, it seemed that thousands, perhaps tens of thousands of people had the same idea. The crowd was as thick and rude as it was old. I was elbowed and pushed several times as old crones desparately tried to reach the shrine where they could combine shopping for junk with a religious experience. The dirty looks I got as I waited at the entrance for friends was almost as surprising as the pornography for sale inside.

Most: By 11:25am, I had walked around perhaps fifty stalls selling incredible amounts of Japanese cultural refuse, including millions of figurines and endless pottery. The most interesting items, though included and ancient bear skin rug, carved ivory, fossils and medical equipment from long enough ago to make it terrifying. The surgical stall, included horrifying syringes, bone saws, pokers of some kind, and two bronze gynaecological devices - I wonder if anyone bought them. The thousand and something year-old shrine was kind of interesting too.

PM

Least: By 7:00pm, it was becoming clear that during my several attempts to install a wireless router, I had destroyed our computers ability to connect to the internet. Apart from trying to read Japanese instructions, I had lost some crucial papers that included a precious password. Being a public holiday, it was impossible to contact the service provider and therefore impossible to reconnect to the lifeline of the interet. On unexpected side effect was that it further reduced the certainty of our impending trip to the Hokage festival at Tamagawa by preventing us from checking train times. Boring times.

Most: Sometime after 3:00pm, I was escorted into Den Den town by our neighbour in search of electronics. Within minutes, we had bought a new high definition monitor and various cables. It was incredible to see the number of shops selling items to allow people to construct their own computers. Other shops sold thousands of figurines, swap cards and computer games, while others had girls dressed as maids trying to entice lonely customers. Within an hour the spending spree had ended, but it was interesting to see how massive choice, flashing lights and placards could put me into a ruinous fianancial frenzy. Fun.

Broadcasting will resume shortly

Retching and Relaxation

AM

Least: At just past 8:00am, I woke with an absolutely searing headache and relentless nausea. It was the hangover that I had been expecting, however the shock of its ferocity caught me unawares. While the nurofen dullled the pain, all I could think of was how dull my day was going to be until the menace passed. I think the most damage as done by umeshu the sweeter than sweet Japanese plum wine. Even while I was drinking last night, I knew deep down that I would really pay for it later. At only ten percent alcohol, it is a weakling, but when combined with cheap beer it can become lethal. The hangover coloured my entire AM period and I couldn't rise until a surprise at the door dragged me out of my malaise.

Most: At about 11:10am, the doorbell unexpectely rang. It was a deliverman, dropping off a box of incredibly entertaining electronics. Late on Friday night, I had ordered a Playstation 3 from Amazon to relieve my morning boredom. Incredibly, it only took about forty hours to arrive - an on a Sunday. The package was carefully wrapped and included my other purchase John Steinbeck's The Pearl. The delivery tore me from the clutches of my hangover and condsiderably improved my morning.

PM

Least: At nearly 2:00pm, I decided on a high-risk strategy to add certainty to the end of my hangover. The sushi-train restaurant was busy and I thought that the colour and movement might distract me from my internal issues. The near trouble erupted when huge gaps in the conveyer appeared and a hush fell on the eatery. One of the few things left doing laps around the room was a disgusting plate of cocktail-frank sushi (see a similar meal right) complete with an artistically place strip of nori holding it together. For five minutes, my stomach churned at the thought of this meal, until a fresh batch of the blandly harmless salmon appeared just in time. The rice was still warm and the least interesting sushi saved the day.

Most: At 2:35pm, I strolled through Namba parks on my way to Labi to buy a game for my new toy. I was struck by how relaxed everyone seemed. With a four-day holiday beginning, it was a change to see couples holding hands, fathers with children, people walking slowly and the shops teeming at twoish in the afternoon. Given the outrageous hours that many people work, perhaps it is not too surprising that the Japanese have achieve art in their relaxation techniques. For some reason, my stroll today reminded me of a perfect early summer day in Melbourne and made me a little homesick.

The Hankai Tram Horror

Saturday 19 September

AM

Least: At about 10:45am, I arrived at my faraway school in Wakayama to discover that my first task was going to be photocopying sheets for my two kids' classes. To compound my groaning was the fact that my usually empty room was being occupied by another lesson. I had no hope of preparing early to give my self a short break later in the day. If only the upper echelons of the company would send down an extra staff member to help the days run more smoothly.

Most: By 10:15am, my train was hurtling down the hills in to Wakayama. Some of the rice crops had been recently harvested and bushels of rice were hanging on wooden frames waiting for collection. In some of the fields, the second crop had begun to sprout amongst the dot-matrix like stubble. Occasionally, wafts of smoke from burning grass came through the train giving a hint of Japanese farming. It will be interesting to see how the farms change as winter approaches.

PM

Least: Just after 7:00pm, I stood on the Hankai tram, a boring reality precipitated by missing my stop at Mikunigaoka. For several minutes, passengers felt it necessary to barge past, knocking me with their bags and sun umbrellas. I'm beginning to think that the ruthless quest for a skerrick of personal time and a few less seconds communting is at its worst on the tram. The trams hideous noise and the constant buzzing as people get aboard doesn't help either. A thoroughly enraging experience once again starring the Hankai tram.

Most: At 8:10pm, Rosie and I arrived at the Dakokucho chapter of Torikizoku for a birthday bash for Jack Carter. The meal was all-you-can-eat and drink for a couple of hours. The chicken and it's organs were delicious and plentiful. I drank beer and plum brandy. Sometime after ten, a large group of Japanese sat down in at the tables next to us. The raucous group turned out to be an amateur acting troup. Their latest stage production was a science fiction play. One patricularly muscle-ful fellow insisted on taking his shirt off until the waitress gave him an earful. By the end of the night the streets were nothing other than a blur of colourful light.

The Tank and the Tricycle

AM

Least: At about 9:00am, I made the fightening discovery that I was nearly out of coffee. My morning challenge was to make an effective brew with less than the permitted amound of ground coffee to make a decent cup. With my mind filled with ratios and various brewing-time scenarios, I poured the recently boiled water into the plunger. Given that the coffee amount was at critically low levels, I allowed for a longer than usual brew. Despite my pseudo-scientific efforts, the results were not impressive. I ended up drinking an unacceptably weak coffee at low tide. My lesson is to keep a reserve tin of UCC coffee in case of emergency. At least if I ever die of coffee withdrawal I can be interred in their shrine at Koya San (above).


Most: Sometime close to 7:30am, I woke in the middle of a strange dream that work had infiltrated. I was roaming around a lush and large campus looking for my class. The place where my class was supposed to be had been overwhelmed by drunken college types who reluctantly moved away after being shouted at. Strangely, the breakthough moment came when I saw a battered battle tank driving up some stairs, dropping metal as it ploughed through the concrete. As it turned out, the tank driver was a student's mother arriving to pick her up. It seemed that driving tanks on errands had become something of a trend to show off your battle scars. I never found the class and now I sit bemused that my most interesting moment was in my sleeping hours.

PM

Least: Between 12:10pm and 12:30pm, I discovered that railway employees shared some common and boring features the world over. After going to the 'travelling today' desk to buy shinkansen tickets and refused service, Rosie and I entered the dreadfully long 'travelling in a few days' queue. The number of very old and tight people in the line didn't help, but the staff were moving as slowly as any of the single finger typists at the Flinders' Street V-Line office. Each transaction took far too many minutes and the clerks repeated every step more than enough times. Twenty minutes later we finally got our tickets to Shin-Yokohama I hope the wait was worth it.

Most: At nearly 5:00pm, I was staring aghast at an ancient man riding a tricycle (see file photo right) in Life supermarket. The old man was a sorry sight with an oxygen tank in his trike tray and tubes up his nose. Although he was carrying a massive walking frame, the tricyclist thought that the fastest way to the booze section was on wheels. Upon detecting the trike, the staff quickly stopped the offender in his tracks and assisted him in parking his vehicle outside like everyone else. By the look on the faces of the staff they knew this man well. I'm sure he'll be back attempting the same wild ride to the booze pile next week.

Small Mercies and a Bad Lunch

AM

Least: By 10:10am, I came to the impossibly boring realisation that instead of finishing work early, I had to do three hours of overtime, then my usual six hours. My six hour day had suddenly turned into a nine hour day with an incredibly inconvenient hour gap in the middle. A few hours later, I was able to spend a cool fifteen minutes at home scoffing a paltry lunch of crap from the Family Mart (see below). I believe I was duped into doing the overtime, with the keyword missing from my phone conversation on Tuesday. The minor hangover didn't help either.

Most: At 8:00am, my alarm tore me out my slumber and set the train in motion to get ready for work. The amazing thing, was that after last night's debauchery, I was almost free of any hangover symptoms. Maybe it was the thirteen plates of sushi that I had inhaled before going to T's Kitchen. In a day of disappointments (see above), the lack of a serious hangover was a small mercy that prevented a bad day becoming worse.

PM

Least: At about 1:20pm, it dawned on me that my decision to return home after morning training was a foolish one. By the time the slower than slow train reached Tezukayama, I had walked to the Family Mart and then home, I had only fifteen minutes to relax in shoeless homely glory. As I ate my cobbled together lunch of a convienince egg sandwich and an onigiri, I couldn't help thinking of what could've been. I pictured the sushi conveyor, full of delights doing laps around the restaurant without me. I then pictured the pile of plates that could've sat in front of me just before 1:45pm. I reckon the pile could've been fifteen high.

Most: At 6:10pm, I was bracing to make good on my agreement to hand out tissues at Nazamozu station after being propositioned by the busy-bee staff. A few minutes later, I heard the barking of a political rally crashing through the third floor window. By some miracle, the local government had decided that my time of need was the also the perfect time to give speeches to the masses. Thankfully, the masses were so numerous that it was impossible to carry out the tissues mission. This was the second, slightly larger mercy for the day. In lieu of the tissue distribution, I merely had to suffer the indignation of stuffing them while talking to an eighteen year old schoolgirl. The schoolgirl has a school concert tomorrow - she is doing a dance routine.

The Rush of Rush Hour

AM

Least: At 9:45am, I surfaced in Kyoto after walking for several hundred metres underground in an unknown direction. The smug blandness of the shops above meant that a few minutes later, I was walking straight past my destination. By the time I asked a tissue-man the directions, I had walked seven hundred metres too far. It was not the first or second time I have been lost in Kyoto - it was the third. There is something strange about the orientation of the city that I just can't put my finger on - it's probably just me. I'm yet to love Kyoto.

Most: By 8:20am, I was being swept along with the wild Osaka rush hour (see stolen photo). Even on my local train, a constant ribbon of people walked through the train to get to the first carriage in the hope of saving a few precious seconds. By the time I reached underground the ribbon had turned into a wide black suited flood of people clopping along in their dress-shoes. Most people seemed to be in robotic mode as if they make that same dash to work every day - I'm sure they do. When I reached the Midosuji platform at Namba, thousands of people were waiting patiently in line to board the next train. Seconds after stepping into the carriage, people began pushing themselves after me and I was helplessly moving with the crush. At the first stop I only saw one person step out of the train  - four or five joined the mayhem.

PM

Least: By 5:20ish, I was trudging back through the Midosuji station beneath Namba. Although my head was down, I heard my name being called by a strangely familiar Japanese voice. It was my boss from one of my schools. Immediately after some minor pleasantries, she began piling on the pressure for me to attend a drinks party for work on Saturday night. I replied with a lot of erring and mighting then went on my way. Thankfully, I have far more interesting plans for Saturday night which will make it impossible to attend the threatened work function.

Most: Some time after 8:00pm, Rosie and I walked in to the previously mentioned T's Kitchen. We planned to stay for a single drink and a snack, however, it wasn;t long before events overwhelmed us. Just as I as emptying what I assumed would be my last beer, a middle-aged Japanese guy in the corner piped up. The first thing he said to Rosie was aimed at detecting her marital status. As it turned out, the man was a real estate agent and had to of his minoins with him. In the hour and a half that followed, we spoke to the three agents and drank more and more beer. For some reason the agents insisted on buying us sashimi. The food, though was to no avail and did not prevent the beer hitting its target with devestating accuracy. It was a long and windy trip home.

The Smell of Old Books and the Stink of Routine

AM

Least: By 11:40am, it was clear that once again I would not leave the house before midday. Outside it is raining, and it's slant looks as if it might foil even the broadest umbrella. The relaxing routine of stirring at eight, eggs at nine some reading at ten then a shower at eleven has really set in for the lang haul. I really need to force myself out for a walk to at least give me something interesting to write about.

Most: At about 10:00am, I picked up a book that had arrived in the mail from England yesterday. On a whim, I had fairly cheaply bought Ford Madox Hueffer's Hans Holbein the Younger. While I have absolutely no interest in Mr Holbein, the book as an obect itself left me very satisfied. The book was reissued in 1914 and for the most part looks new and has that special aroma that reminds me of my other books sitting in boxes in Drouin. The gilt is still shiny and the tissue covering the plates is immaculate after ninety-five years of living on someone's shelf. Who at Duckworth in 1914 would have suspected that their book would've ended up sitting on a shelf in a Tezuakayama flat? I just hope it survives the humidity to last another ninety-five years.

PM

Least: At approximately 5:35pm, I answered a phone at work. It told me that I was going to be working in Kyoto tomorrow. I will arrive and leave early and I predict that around 5:00pm tomorrow I will be once again lost at JR station in Umeda. Today, I noticed that a disturbing pattern is developing, with a terrifying phone call arriving to haunt me at the same time every Tuesday. The knowledge that I need to get up early in the morning fills each lost minute with sorrow, for soon enough, the next tick of the clock with be my alarm going off.


大きな地図で見る

Most: At around 11:00pm, I was busy trying to plot my journey to the Hokage Open Air festival at Tamagawa in Yamanashi. Pinpointing the town closest to the festival site involved decoding kanji, scrolling through maps and reviewing bullet train times. Hopefully, we will still be able to buy tickets for the train. Thankfully, Rosie spoke enough Japanese to ensure that we will sleep in a bungalow and not in some windswept tent. I still hope the rain stays away. It will be an interesting night.

Duel or Wheels of Terror

AM

Least: At nearly 11:15am I stood in the the supermarket struggling to find a place to pack my bags and being buffeted by a series of incredibly rude old crones. I'm not sure if it's me, or the old bags are simply in mission mode and are not willing to let anything get in the way of their target. The first collision occured after a shopper discarded her trolley and rolled it towards me with little regard for my safety. The second incident was as I was packing my shopping into my bike-basket when a heavily osteoperosised old lady flashed past on her bike with her umbrella open. The edge of the frilly sun-umbrella struck me in the side of the face - luckily causing no injury. The bike rules discourage umbrella use and offer jail time for other bike offences. This morning's experience suggests that Japan's famous manners are concentrated in the younger age-brackets and non-existant among decrepit old ladies.

Most: At about 11:40am I sat down to have a look at the cycling rules for Japan after my brush with the maniac at the supermarket. The laws were revised in 2008 and seem to be quite harsh, especially in terms of the jail terms given for some offences. Some big penalties apply to the most common bike riding habits seen in Japan, such as dinking, riding on the wrong side of the road, failing to stop at signals and riding while drunk. The last crime can potentially send a person to the slammer for five years - as long as the rider doesn't crash and die first.

PM

Least: Between 3:20pm and precisely 9:35pm, I spent no less than four and a half hours staring out over Osaka's north-eastern skyline from the twenty-fourth floor of the Hankyu32 building (see rectangle in the centre of photo right) As night fell, the lights of the city made it slightly more interesting but soon became part of the same trance-like drone before my eyes. The HEP Five ferris wheel was not even turning and was covered in cloth for renovation. A rare highlight was seeing sparks from a welder fall from about thirty storeys up into the depths of the street. Having little work to do made a boring day drag on even longer.

Most: At about 9:50pm, I stepped onto the Midosuji subway train at Umeda. Within thirty seconds I had run into the barman from one of my favourite bars Jokerman (right). Takao had been eating Mexican and drinking vast quantities of tequila. His eyes were bloodshot and he admitted to being incredibly drunk. We talked about grindcore and the upcoming Brutal Truth show in Osaka. It was nice running into a familiar Japanese face in a sea of strangers.

Gastronomy Versus Gastro

AM

Least: At nearly 8:20am, I awoke with a sore neck, a splitting headache and a stormy gizzard. The first affliction I have had for days, the second caused by beer and the third probably via kids at Rosie's school. The unpredictable nature of my malaise meant that I was confined for much of the AM period and less able to fight my other physical impairments. As the morning wore on, I began to question the foods the I had eaten in the last twelve-ish hours but I just couldn't bring myself to blame the sashimi, doteyaki, the octopus or the sanma. I finally settled on blaming a school environment teeming with virus's and imperfectly washed hands.

Most: By 9:30am, I had realised that Collingwood had in fact won the game of football that I had recklessly ignored last night. While speaking to my sister and niece is was strangely comforting to be able to give my comisserations to my Adelaide following brother in law. While AFL is pretty far from being interesting, this short skyped aside was a shining light in an otherwise dreadful morning.

PM

Least: Pretty close to 12:30pm, I paid a visit to the Nankai station branch of the MUFJ Bank to check my bank balance. Seconds later, I discovered that August's wild spending spree had taken its toll and worse, my pay had yet to be credited to my account. The dismal figure made me ponder where the money had gone. Expensive meals, taxis, pizza and an airfare to Malaysia. Hopefully this month's boring balance will be a cracking holiday in December.

Most: At about 3:00pm, Rosie and I browsed the shelves of the A-Price Supermarket in Namba. The shop is aimed at caterers with caterer-sized everything to sham your restaurant into respectability. Among the frozen fish and crabs was the whale section. Frozen packs of whale bacon and blubber called out from the freezer. Some of the larger cuts of meat actually had a picture of a humpbacked whale to assist with advertising and the biggest steaks were simply frozen flesh sawn into rectangular boxes. The supermarket also has an admirable selection of cheese.

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Food Note: At around 2:00pm, I ordered what I thought was fried seafood chunks by pointing at a photo. Unfortunately, the dim lights of the restaurant meant that I had actually ordered a sizzling skillet of horemon which consisted of asparagus stems and pig entrails served on a bed of cooked onion. With a sqweeze of lemon it was delicious and given my intestinal issue, I imagined that by eating intestines their strength might transfer to mine. Magic.

Bogies at Nine O'Clock

Saturday 12 September 2009

AM

Least: Just after 9:30am, I boarded the JR Rapid at Mikunigaoka and sat in a seat reserved for people with ailments. This particular seat is at the rear of the carriage and is located directly above the bogies that roll the train to Wakayama. I have a faint memory of my Grandfather saying that you should never sit atop the train wheels because the ride is too rough. My half-hour experience between Mikunigaoka and Hineno proved this theory correct. I felt every bend, join and undulation of the train track, which at a glance looks futuristically smooth. As the train lurched incessantly, I was reminded of my sore neck and by the end of the trip its weakness had turned me into some kind of bobblehead. Thankfully I didn't experience nausea, despite the wild ride and the faintish smell of the toilets.

Most: At close to 8:10am, I peered out my kitchen window to see a filthy and wet pidgeon attempting to preen itself. The wetness of the pigeon told me that it was or had been raining outside. August seemed to be particularly dry and I was hoping for rain to wash summer down the drain. This morning, a constant drizzle freshened the streets, trees and gardens. Nearly an hour later, walking toward the station, I could actually smell the pine-ish fragrance of the gardens that grace the yards of the stinking rich. I also thought that the rain wold keep some of the Wakayama day-trippers off my morning train and free up some seats (see above). Thankfully, the day-trippers stayed home and I got to sit down.

PM

Least: Sometime after 5:37pm as my train left Wakayama station, I witnessed the ruthless musical chairs of the Kishuji Rapid. Because people are so desparate to sit alone, whenever a seat becomes available there is an undignified scramble to fill it. As people left the train at both Musota and Kii stations, people jumped to their feet to escape the horror of sitting next to another human being. The disappointment on people's faces when they just missed their chance at happiness was all too apparent and some of them had to return to their seats - the horror, the horror. I suppose it is forgivable given that personal in Japan is as such a premium but I'm sure that it doesn't need to be so cut-throat.

Most: Pretty close to 8:30pm, I walked into T's kitchen to relieve the agony of my hunger. After inhaling some doteyaki, octopus and several small glasses of beer, I came to the conclusion that I needed something more. A few days ago a student told me about the autumn culinary delight sanma, which is a longish silver fish a lot like a sardine which is grilled whole. T's Kitchen had one waiting for me. I pointed to the dead fish through the window of the counter and watched it grill. The final result was a very simple dish with some grated daikon and a cumquat. It was delicious and was not encumbered by the smaller bones which were edible. After my mauling, all that was left was the a cartoonish plate with the head, some stomach contents and a spine remaining. My next challenge will be to recreate the fishy experience at home in our fishgrill. Thanks T.

From Screen Door to Mosasaur

AM

Least: At about 9:10am I opened our rickety screen door and once again pulled it off the rails. Like the washing machine, the screen doors has never recovered from those spring days when Sanshou Mansion was painted. Although it never really slid smoothly, the door now has the infuriating habit of leaving its tracks every time it is opened. And every time it comes off the rails, I have to spend time flexing it back into position, knowing full well my battle is futile. Extremely boring. It will take a dangerous turn when the time comes for me to throw it onto the tram tracks below.

Most: It was close to 9:30am, when I felt confident enough to think to myself that the yoke of Osaka's summer has been broken. For several nights it has been cool enough to sleep without the airconditioner and for several days I have had little sweat drip down my chins. As the the other changes of seasons, it has been if a switch has been flicked and an autumnly cool northerly breeze has swept the humidity and heat away. Having survived the summer, I can now say that while it was brutal, it was not completely soul destroying as predicted by various Canadian types. And if wasn't for wearing ridiculous work clothes, the summer would have been far more bearable. I wonder when the hot coffee will return to the vending machines?

PM

Least: At about 1:20pm, I sat down to a fishy meal at an all-you-can-eat sushi restaurant in Shinsaibashi. I'm still trying to work out if it was worth it given the amount of sushi I could've eaten and didn't. The food was pretty poor, even for sushi-trains and although I had to try the salami and pastrami sushi , I didn't think it was much chop. The guy sitting next to me though, had other ideas. He had eaten at least thirty plates of sushi and no less than ten desserts, mostly creme brulees. The only word he said to me was 'bamboo' as he pointed to a dish that tasted a lot like dishwashing liquid. Some of the other customers included, close-to-bums and obvious tight-arses determined to get their yen's worth. A one time only experience and one that proves the never-skimp-on-food rule.

Most: At close to 2:00pm, Rosie and I walked in the doors of Tokyu Hands in Shinsaibashi. Our initial aim was to simply have a look, but as it turned out we could have our watch batteries replaced while we browsed. The vast array of goods included watches, backpacks, homewear, beauty products, stationary, craft and hobby supplies. The most interesting floor was the hobby and craft section which was full of nerdy guys inspecting train sets. Close to the astronomical instruments were a shelf-full of fossils. I was mose impressed by the dinosaur bones and the teeth from a mosasaur (right). I wonder if Australian customs would let bring a large trilobite back - it might just be worth a try.

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.

Posting Problems

AM

Least: At about 8:00am, I discovered that two of Rosie's letters had been returned from the post office. One letter did not have a valuable enough stamp to reach Australia, the other though was more baffling. The smaller than usual envelope appeared to have a chit on it explaining it didn't conform to the minimum size for a letter which seems to be 14cm by 9cm. According to Japan Post it costs more to send a smaller than average envelope - crackers. Braille letters up to three kilograms are free. This echoes an earlier incident when the presentation of novelty-shaped postcards at the post office caused all hell to break loose. It seems that everyone must confrom in Japan, even envelopes. A crashing bore.

Most: At nearly 9:30am, I was strolling around the greenery of Tezukayama when I thought I spotted a bogan. As it turned out, I was right.  Her t-shirt read "Give a dog a fish and he'll eat for a day. Teach a dog how to fish and he'll sit in a boat and drink beer all day". I supposed that she must've been on a holiday to the Gold Coast in the recent past. Her miniature daschund had crimped fur on its ears. This bogan was far more interesting that the usual designer-clad Tezukayama Queen - it seems that boganism is a universal truth.

PM

Least: Close to 9:50pm, I boarded a JR Loop train at Kyobashi. Joining me on the first carriage, were a small group of extremely drunken men. The ringleader was holding court, sprouting what I assume was an unending stream of crap in Japanese. He did not even pause his monologue when bullying the younger members of his team. At one frightening stage he caught my eye and began muttering some rubbish about England. Thankfully, after I tilted my head to the bored commuter position he returned to his followers. They all left the train and my personal space at Tsurahashi.

Most: Beginning at exactly 8:50pm, I spoke to a freelance fashion designer for forty minutes. Her English wasn't great, but I gathered that she specialised in clothes for young women. She said that the current trend was for feminine ribbony outfits designed to drive the boys crazy. Apparently, the rag
trade has really struggled this past year with many shops selling their stock at close to cost levels. An interesting aside in an otherwise boring afternoon.

The Three Bad Smells of Japan

AM

Least: Sometime around 8:50am, I walked out the door for a stroll around the park carrying a large back of household rubbish. I added the bag to the mountain on the road and went on my way. About five minutes later, I discovered the third bad smell of Japan. The first is especially well documented - the stench of the drains that occasionally waft above ground to assault the senses. The second is the extreme body odour exuded by certain members of the middle management class who probably work too hard to care about armpit hygiene. My experience of the third came as I walked around the park. The smell was a complex combination of rotting park-garbage, cigarette smoke and dog piss - all baking to perfection in the morning sun. Thankfully, the second and third nose-sores are seasonal and only make and appearance in summer, leaving Japan with only one bad smell for much the rest of the year. I can live with one.

Most: At about 10:00pm as I ate my perfectly poached eggs in front of the television, I once again stumbled on the science-ish show 'The Making'. Normally, this would warrant a place in the above entry, however today something special stopped me from changing the channel in disgust. Today's episode centred on the mass production of pre-cooked, frozen okonomiyaki. The amazing thing was, that the incredibly complex machinery served only to replicate how the delicious dish is made in the restaurants. (see actual pack right) The highlight was probably the mechanical spatulae that were robotically nudging each okonomiyaki into shape as they cooked on a moving skillet. The finished product looked without fault as it was photographed, x-rayed, wrapped then snap frozen for the supermarket. On the strength of this television experience, I will buy a frozen okonomiyaki today and report back in a food note.


PM

Least: Closing in on 10:00pm, I realised that I'd blurred past Tezukayama station. I was alerted to my folly only by the sight of a Fusball complex which told me I was nearing Tengachaya station. I'm not sure if complacency, doziness or glassy-eyed boredom caused my lapse, but as my station came and went I was none the wiser. I was listening to the deceptively long 'Black Diamond Bay' by Bob Dylan at the time and perhaps those tropic isles in song took my thoughts far away from the Nankai line. Thankfully, I did not have to wait too long for the return trip.

Most: As I left the train at 10:12pm, I sensed a change in the atmosphere. For the first time in months, I felt a very faint chill in the air brought by a northerly breeze. I also noticed that the cicadas are gone, giving room for the crickets to annoy passers by. It will be interesting to see if the season changes from summer to autumn as quickly as how summer engulfed spring in June. Many locals claim that the weather has been very strange this year with oddly timed and located deluges across Japan. I actually thought it might have been wetter than it has been, with few days of rain, and few torrential downpours. The heat and humidity though have been a brutal and character-building experience that will be good to leave behind for six months.
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Food Note: For lunch I tried the frozen okonomiyaki as-seen-on-tv (see actual result right). For a frozen meal it had very good texture and taste, although it was a little small. The sauce, mayonnaise, seeweed and bonito were a nice addition to the pack and did not seem affected by their frozen ordeal. I will certainly eat this again - thanks tv!