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?

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.

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.

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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 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 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 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.

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.

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.

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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.