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.