Waiting for Quakes

AM

Least: I woke at about 8:15am to find that the special kind of up-too-early boredem was upon me. Despite my glee at not being hungover, I found little entertainment in my eggs or the morning baseball-based anime. As a last resort I began skimming through this month's edition of London Review of Books. Not surprisingly, it was packed with incredibly pretentious writing about other pretentious writers and groanworthy poetry. I could write more about the contents of the magazine but would risk becoming a crashing bore.

Most: At about 10:30am, I was looking for information about today's matsuri festival when stumbled across the earthquakes section of the Sumiyoshi-ku website. The terrifying truth is that we are living on the Uemachi Fault system and it is predicted that within the next fifty years a massive subduction quake will smash the city and liquify its soils. The preparedness guide recommends hiding under a desk or pillow during the quake and highlights that fact that if you're on the toilet it's best to stay there as it's probably the safest part of the house. Thankfully, because we are on the fourth floor, we should be safe from the predicted tsunami when the quake strikes. I just hope I'm not in the shower  or suffering from a mid-shave goatee when our shakey friend arrives.

PM

Least: Sometime arounf 12:30pm, I rescued my bike from the station and spun up to the glossily advertised Tezukayama Matsuri. I groaned as the rag-tag group of stalls came into view. Out of date toys, worn clothes, shonky homemade games and very limited food greeted my eyes. Although it was clearly a community fundraising event, I felt misled by the high quality advertising that appeared in shop windows a couple of weeks ago. One rare highlight was the talent quest - we saw a four-ish year old girl in pink do a song n dance routine. The next best choice was Bikkuri Donkey.

Most: At about 1:35pm, Rosie and I left the largely boring Tezukayama festival and wheeled down the hill to Bikkuri Donkey. We thought we'd go for a laugh and a laugh is what we got. The crazed junk-yard style building and the bizarre interior only served to make the meal that we got even more interesting. I ordered a 300g hamburg (top of menu shown right) with exactly four chips and hot mayonnaised corn served on a bed of cooked onion and topped with a typically soggy ball of shredded daikon. The vast slab of minced New Zealand beef was only dwarfed by the imposing shuttered menu that looked down on us like a sentinel. I thought the meal was on the way to being repulsive, but with the use of corn kernals, it has to be considered an incredibly Japanese dish. It is amazing what people will pay to eat if it's served in cartoonish surroundings.

The Death Stare in the Supermarket

AM

Least: Within an hour of 3:00am, I slumped into a white taxi for the outrageously expensive cruise from Shinsaibashi to Tezukayma. Despite my incredibly blurry state, I noticed that the driver had a small plasma TV installed on his dashboard. The screen had a deep shade so the driver could watch it at any time he chose. Without surprise, I saw that even in the early hours, it was still possible to watch insipid variety shows. I was too drunk to tell whether or not Terry Ito made an appearance.


Most: Just after rising at 11:10am, I slid open my balcony door to discover the surprise that the day was not searingly hot. A coolish breeze fluttered the washing and gave me the hint the summer might just be on the wane. The forecast still warns of above 30 degree days, yet the painful maximums are beginning to lower. Hopefully the nights will be cooler and more sleep friendly too.

PM

Least: At about 3:20pm, I squeezed into the local supermarket to buy some overpriced groceries. What made this dull experience even less interesting was the swarm of houswives blocking every isle. In the fruit section, Rosie reported seeing be-aproned women scanning  bigger-than-A3 catalogues for any bargains they may have missed. You'd think that the old bag who graced me with her death stare as I sidled up to the packing counter would've been more cheerful, given that she'd had just managed to save 23 yen. Tightarse.

Most: Just before 4:00pm, I was again intrigued by another mention of last year's Tsiolkas book 'The Slap', During my visit to Australia a few people urged me to read it and empasised its light-shining value in terms of naughties suburban Melbourne. Having not read any of the book, I settled on a debate on the First Tuesday Book Club between the usual hipster, author, journo and guests. The interesting thing about the usually uninteresting show, was the faith-like defence put up by the Australians after the Britisher dismissed the book for its soapiness. It's always warming to hear familiar suburbs or types mentioned in print, but perhaps the interest fades as soon as you live outside of the good pages of the Melways. Given the rifts and the raft of recommendations though, I'll need to give it a read. At least Hardy has removed that distracting flower from her hair.

The Perfect Peach?

AM

Least: Pretty close to 8:50am, I cut an equator around a too-large peach that I bought from a street seller a couple of days ago. Despite twisting firmly, the greenish flesh refused to part from the stone. The most disappointing aspect of this particular peach was that its complexion was perfect - not a scar nor a browning hollow - but its insides were watery and tart. The Japanese art of overpackaging is rife amongst supermarket fruits - particularly peaches. The foamish coverings give the impression that they are protecting something excellent, however it it merely make-up - mutton dressed as lamb. For a few thousand yen, you can buy your boss a box of twelve as part of the summer gifting process - I wouldn't bother.

Most: I rose this morning at about 8:20am with a strong urge to open Truman Capote's In Cold Blood and keep reading. There were simply not enough waking hours last night to complete it. The incredible clarity of the writing and the rhythm that switches between the victims and the criminals gives reading it movie like momentum. Over the years, I've picked the book up and never bothered to buy it, but the ten dollar Popular Penguin was too good an offer to refuse. I've no doubt that I will finish it by the end of PM tonight.

PM

Least: Sometime close to 4:00pm, the dread of going back to ECC drone-hood began bothering me. As dreads go, it's a pretty bland version - no preparation and not much mystery. In my attempt to make today drag on, I tried to make the least of my time today to little avail. I extended the cover of my sunburn through.


大きな地図で見る

Most: Just after 12:20pm, Rosie and I wheeled down to Namba for a bite. Instead of taking the increasingly uninteresting routes previously describe in this blog, we opted for some almost randomly chosen streets. Our bikes took us through the surprisingly hilly and windy area just north of Tezukayama and down through Tengachaya's less trafficked roads. What we saw was almost like another city with a completely different atmosphere. There were lots of people sitting around in the heat, old men wearing kimono-like duds, baffling small businesses, and the rubbery smell of bicycle recycling. For some reason it reminded us of Vietnam.

___________
Food note: At the Conveyor Sushi trough that we often haunt, a young girl and her Grandfather shared their sushi. As usual, the Grandfather spent much of his time scraping wasabi paste from otherwise delicious dishes. The most touching moment though, was when they shared a generous piece of whale bacon - the little girl ate the meat, the Grandfather chewed the fat. Nice.

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.

The Importance of Being Idle

AM

Least: Close to 8:30am, I waded through another short chapter of Nick's And the Ass Saw the Angel. Given his admirable rant on prolix, it is easy (and uninteresting) to begin groaning at the incredible purpure of his writing. He manages to create an interesting atmosphere of disgust impending terror but it's far too self conscious. At the very least, someone should've convinced dear Nick to remove every single use of ah and may for I and my. Nothing a pair of scissors can't fix.

Most: Just after 11:15am I sat on the front verandah drinking steaming black tea in the sun. Being idle seems to be an important feature of my time in the hills. Being idle gives me a chance to persevere with wordy books, examine possible fossils, bake by the fire, digest, cook, stare blankly or simply revel in being part of an idyll. This morning, I poached, read and resisted reading more of And the Ass Saw the Angel, drank tea, fed the magpies and currawongs, spied on superb fairy wrens, looked inside an interesting stone, lit the fire and watched darkening clouds change and drift by. Ideal, but I won't even try to explain it to my more earnest, everywhere, early rising inquisitors.

PM

Least: Sometime around 2:30pm, I inadvertently glanced at some daytime television. The appalling sound capturing every rustle of clothing, every smack of lips and every boring breath took me straight back to memories of days sick at home crawling by. Today's monstrosity seemed to consist of ghosts and flashbacks. Simply awful.

Most: At about 7:15pm I began thinking about my last day in the country and my return to Osaka. This town is almost the exact opposite of my like in Tezukayama. It is cold, completely uncrowded, people only speak English, read hair is common, sashimi is unobtainable and I don't have to work strange hours. This short diversion from my life in Japan will no doubt make Osaka even more bizarre and interesting. Tomorrow back to Melbourne.

Notes from the Bottom Drawer

AM

Least: At about 9:50am after another restles sleep. Waking in baking heat comes less that an hour of turning off the airconditioner. This cycle continues ad nauseam until the sun rises at some incredibly early hour. Luckily, complaining about the humid horrors of summer is a sport for Osakans.

Most: At about 10:50am, still reeling from the pizza from last night, I poured a digestion-related sachet of Rosie's medicine into my gullet. Although it looked and tasted like chalk, the Biofermin-R turned out to be a storm of 'good' bacteria. I was unable to find out whether there is any medical benefit of danger from the preparation. Fingers crossed.

PM

Least: Today, the Kansai Time Out told us to go into town and visit the Minatomachi River Place Flea Market. Luckily it was free to enter, because the market was also free of anything of interest. Instead, there were several mats partially filled with worn-out, bottom-of-the-drawer clothes, some boring jewellery and some wooden giraffes. Rosie cut a lonely figure as she climbed the baking steps to escape at about 1:50pm.

Most: Close to 2:10pm, we stumbled across a new Junkudo close to Namba Hatch. The shop was massive, and had generous English section and an even more generous discount English section. Luckily the books that I needed were all 70% off. I bought DBC Pierre's Vernon God Little, Dostoyevsky's Notes from Underground, Conrad's Nostromo and a couple of gifts for a couple of babies. I got a bonus cheesecake for my custom - Rosie got four.


FOODNOTE

Lowlight: Chilled udon and curry at a restraunt in Namba City. Menu choice, menu choice, menu choice.

Feeding an Aching Head

AM

Least: This morning at about 8:20am I awoke from an apparently fitful sleep with an unfair headache delivered to me by a few glasses of white wine. If I had to go to work in this condition I might be considered a hard worker.

Most: Between about 10:20am and 10:40am I read a long piece in the LRB on the letters of Marcus Aurelius. What made the reading interesting was the fact that 80 of his letters were discovered in the early 19th Century hiding on reused parchments from the First Church Council in the AD451. The article reminded me that the process of collating and interpreting text puts a great distance between what we read and the author's original intention. Good brain food.

PM

Least: At about 1:50pm I rolled to the Kohyo supermarket in search of quality coffee only to find the shelves of overpriced Lavazza empty. I was forced to experiment with a tin of UCC Original Blend. The experiment was a partial success. It's minerally flavour and corporate logo recalled my visit to the UCC shrine up in Koya San (right).

Most: Soon after 5:30pm, Rosie and I began riding our bikes toward Daikokucho and a meeting with friends for a meal. On the way we stumbled across some kinda summer festival in Tamade. Apart from the important cultural rituals were stall after stall of kids games, goldfish, chickens, tortoises, booze and yakitori. A few people were really drunk and a few people won insignificant toys by shooting airguns. It was relaxing to mingle with other people relaxing. Our meal was great but we missed Birushanah.