The Period of Last Times

AM

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

PM

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

Run? Hide under a flimsy table? Run.

AM

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

Gimme an L! Gimme a V!

AM

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

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

PM

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

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

On the Arrival of Summer

AM

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

PM

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

Rage and the Secret Life of Point Cards

 AM

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

PM

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

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

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

Please Do It At Home

24 February 2010

AM

At about 9:58am, a man on my train carriage bound for Gakken-Nara-Tomigaoka fell asleep. His newspaper, although appearing to be a respectable broadsheet, was actually filled with full frontal nudity. The paper, slumped forward at about the same time as he did. No-one gawked, nor blinked. A normal situation (right:  Tokyo subway poster)






PM

As I stepped on to the platform at Tsuruhashi station at about 5:25pm, I was confronted by the mingling of two opposing smells. The first, which had assaulted me in the morning was the acrid stench of extinct barbecues and burnt fat - exactly the smell which lingers around a boozy camp fire. This particular smell, wasn't initially included in my short list of 'bad smells in Japan', however since returning from Malaysia (my olfactory organs refreshed) I have noted the putrid stench every wednesday morning on my way to work. It will now forever be in league with my memories of that place. The second, smell, was the incredibly precursor to the first. The amazing smell of tens or hundreds of Yakiniku restaurants, blurs the airs of Tsuruhashi station every night with a blueish haze. It is an amazing and probably delicious place - until the morning. (right: a map of Tsuruhashi that could possibly show the smell radius)

The 365th Day

February 3rd 2010

Exactly a quarter of my 365th day in Japan was mostly spent inside a huge shopping mall in Gakken-Nara-Tomigaoka. Eighty minutes of that was completely focused on helping a 50ish year old lady translate an Australian book, 1001 Inventions that Changed the World, into Japanese. The other interesting thing about the 3rd of February is that is it Bean Throwing Ceremony day, when many Japanese literally throw beans at their houses and walls to chase out any devilish spirits that may have made themselves at home during the preceding year. In fact, on my way home, numerous beans were visible on the streets near freshly exorcised houses. Some kind of blanshish nori roll also appears to be part of the ceremony. The only real lowlight of the day was predictibly on the Hankai Tram early in the morning, when some youngish dolt decided that his rideon the rails was the perfect time to thoroughly clean his pipe with a pipe-cleaner. The smell was revolting, but not quite at alarming as the tar that kept coming out of the rosewood bowl for the length of the trip. Simply awful.

My year in Japan has been interesting, amazing in patches, delicious, frustrating, hilarious, lazy, busy and rapid. I have taught the likes of  doctors, nurses, teachers, salarymen, executives, flight attendent trainees, the unemployed, the alcoholic, train conductors, bullet train hostesses, university students, highschool kids, tiny children, the flu ridden, a law professor, a seller of knives, several Shimano employees, the ugly, the beautiful, old ladies, ancient men, man-eaters, mountain climbers, marathon runners, tea ceremony teachers, tour guides, the insane, hotel workers, a belhop, midwives, chemical engineers, steel pipe makers, scientists, programmers, rock and rollers, the tired, the asleep, Koreans, magicians, scuba divers, a crazed Placido Domingo fan, Disney lovers, kindergarten teachers, a paper bag maker, the lonely, shop girls, salesmen, mothers, unhappy wives, grandfathers, gym managers, translators, law clerks, barmen, the interesting and the incredibly boring.

As a sartorial journey, my 365 days in Japan was pretty spectacular, with the occassional and the occasionally chronic lowlight. The clear winner for expanding my palatte was fish and related fishy catches from the sea. Depsite previously enjoying the occasional tray of sushi in Australia, I found the overseasoned rice a little sickening and the range of fish irritatingly small. In Japan though, the rice is addictive and the sheer variety incredible and impossible to list properly. I've mangaged to try most things including the raw and cooked - octopus, tuna of varying fattyness, salmon, sea urchin, yellowtail, bream, scallops, oysters, numerous roes, mackerel, vinegared mackeral, crab, surf clam, turban shell, raw beef, prawns, sardines and their allies, whale bacon (a moral lowpoint) and who knows what else. My sashimi highlight was a night of eating tuna in all its forms, right up to the crazily expensive tuna belly - needless to say it was also a financial lowlight. The other big surprise was my enjoyment of okonomiyaki and modanyaki both at home and in over-priced restaurants. Despite its bland ingredients, it somehow manages to be a delight, especially with a smothering on sauce and mayonnaise. In general, the food in Osaka has been spectacular and incredibly available. Even in the smallest of bars it is possible to get meals that would be impossible to replicate in Melbourne. One memorable night, I ordered the Autumn delight sanma and it was grilled before my eyes as a whole fish at a bar was big as a cupboard - outstanding. The lowlights of Japanese eating have been well-documented and they almost always involve attempts at Western food such as bread and pizza. One exception though was a simply awful udon curry which had been chilled to a teeth shattering temperature - I still shudder every time I stroll past that particular eatery.

After weeks of not writing this entry, I have finally accepted that my year in Japan boils down to food and people. Especially Rosie!

See you soon!

The Return

AM

After a bumpy overnight flight between Kuala Lumpur and Osaka, the last thing I needed was was slow train home - but that's what I got. Despite paying extra for a seat on the extravagant Rapi:t B, the train crept along to Tengachaya station, probably because of work on the tracks. The train ride home perfectly illustrated the contrast between relaxed Malaysia and up-tight Japan. After only ten days in Malaysia, I'd already become re-accquainted with, multiculturalism, relaxed and expressive people, rich flavours and even richer smells. (right) The sterile uniformity of Kansai Airport and its people made my return to Japan almost depressing. This is probably true about the end of any holiday, but like my last return, Japan seemed stranger than ever. Almost to a person, people were asleep in their seats, their heads at a 48 degree angle (some probably drooling helplessly onto their shoulders). Everyone was wearing similar winter uniforms of dull colours, blacks, browns and greens, with a touch of fur to add dazzle. The most pungent odour I came across was a faint trace of laundry detergent mixed with cigarette and morning beer breath. I was underdressed and therefore cold and irritable. Between 8:00am and about 9:20am, I really hated Japan. Having to work at 2:00pm later in the day didn't help either.

PM

At 2:00pm, my foolish plans to maximise my holiday time came back to haunt me. As I walked in the door of the school, I could alreading feel my lids beginning to creep over my eyeballs. The next six hours were perfectly arranged, with every minute accounted for and every word I was to hear utterly predictible. By 3:30pm, I was listening to a standard account of a Japanese New Year's day, and, as my eyes glazed over for the second time that day, I imagined myself back in the Shangri-la Hotel looking out over the tropical city and the Petronas Towers. And in that hotel room, I was imagining myself being dragged through the tropical

waters of the Anadaman Sea behind a yacht - a nice refuge (above). As I walked home at about 8:50pm, it was below five degrees and I could detect the faint smell (left) of three dishes as I passed the massive houses near the station - sukiyaki (and its variations), grilled fish and Japanese curry. I wondered what a street might smell like  in a multicultural Japan?