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!

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.