The Rumour

Sunday 1st November 2009

AM

Least: At nearly 10:00am, I opened my eyes to a fairly minor hangover. It was made worse by the shuddering thought of the 10000 yen food bill from last night. Luckily the money went mostly on the tuna"s belly rather than beer. Things could be worse.

Most: At about 10:25am, I checked my social networking site to find that rumours had begun in Melbourne about my plans for next year. According to the scuttlebutt, I am to return to Australia in time for the 2010 school year at my former work place. Time will tell if the rumours are true or not.

PM

Least: By 1:00pm, the beautiful morning had given way to a torrential downpour. It was amazing to look our the front window to find sheets of water washing the streets clean. Hours, later the rain continued, making going outdoors far less attractive.

Most: Sometime after 8:00pm and a delicious Thai meal, Rosie and I walked down the steps at Hokage to see several punk bands play including Melbourne's Pisschrist. The bands were mostly good, but the sheer volume of the sound system in such a small room was almost unbearable. The gig finished with Yeap from Pisschrist relentlessly crowd surfing, clearly enjoying the attention of the punters. A key highlight was one singers massive mohawk pictured right.

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.

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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 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.

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.