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.

The Sky Building

AM

Least: At 11:25am, I foolishly got onto the wrong JR train at Shinimamiya and ended up in the weird surrounds of OCAT. Boring except for the youths practicing their break dancing moves.

Most: At 9.30ish I sat down to some excellent poached eggs on some admirable toast. I read Rosie the first two pages of Jonathan Franzen's 'The Corrections' - pretentious pomo drivel - I kept thinking of Nick's song 'We Call Upon the Author to Explain'- but - a page later it miraculously improved - it may just be good - Oprah liked it.

PM
Least: At about 3.10pm I walked into the HEP building in Umeda to be confronted with massive crowds looking for bargains. I quickly forgot the reason I went there in the first place - I think I was looking for an icecream.

Most: By about 2.00pm I was rocketing up the Umeda Sky Building to take a squizz at the observatory. A great view only besmirched by weird hiphop emanating from the walls and a smog cocktail of various fumes that smelled like burning plastic. Most fascinating though was the 'love lock' and the chapel for white weddings - who said Japan can't make good cheese?