The Long Way Home

Wednesday 23rd September 2009
AM

Least: At about 8:10am, the spectre of a long wait for the bus haunted us once more. The bus that was to take us down through the valley to Okutama was a good forty minutes away. As we sat on the side of the road, it became clear how dangerous the road actually was. Tens of motorbikes raced down the side of the mountain with little regard for the occasional oncoming traffic. While sitting on the side of the road, I spotted evidence that Japanese glamour had reached this backwater - a single false eyelash sat in the dirt, probably lost by a bogan schoolgirl on camp. After the bus finally arrived, the road back into town was almost unbearable. The road authorities had decided that the best way to slow traffic was to place too-high rumble strips on the road for most of the way down. Rosie barely made it to the bottom, with nausea lurking at every corner. One day that part of the trip may seem better in hindsight.

Most: By 10:00am, I was looking out the window of the local train between Okutama and Ome. The scenery was pretty incredible, including the carfully controlled cliffs on every mountain side. They had been covered in concrete to prevent rockfalls and made a small attempt to look real. It seems that almost every part of nature is under careful control in Japan - except earthquakes of course. The towns were interesting too. Some of the houses still retained their thatched roofs, and on others, the thatch could be seen under sheet iron. In the mountains it was a good relief from the intense industrial development that greys so much of Japan's landscape. I'm going to try to head for the hills more often.

PM

Least: Sometime after 1:30pm, I got sick of looking out the window of the Shinkansen to Osaka. Apart from the headache from the rushing landscape, there wasn't much to see. Despite the occasional glimpse of the Pacific, the trip was mostly characterised by tunnels and smoke spewing factories (see my photo right). By the time, I began snoring, the train had almost reached Nagoya.

Most: At about 3:30pm, the grimy nature of Osaka really hit me. Being amongst the mountains for only a short time had clearly had an interesting effect. The night beside the river gave me a new reference point with which to gauge the living conditions in such a massive and hardworking city. The pollution and humidity were instantly apparent, and people were obviously tired as they looked down the barrel of returning to work after three days off. To assist my rehabilitation into Osakan life, I cooked okonomiyaki and to my satisfaction it was fantastic.

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.

_____________________

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 Tank and the Tricycle

AM

Least: At about 9:00am, I made the fightening discovery that I was nearly out of coffee. My morning challenge was to make an effective brew with less than the permitted amound of ground coffee to make a decent cup. With my mind filled with ratios and various brewing-time scenarios, I poured the recently boiled water into the plunger. Given that the coffee amount was at critically low levels, I allowed for a longer than usual brew. Despite my pseudo-scientific efforts, the results were not impressive. I ended up drinking an unacceptably weak coffee at low tide. My lesson is to keep a reserve tin of UCC coffee in case of emergency. At least if I ever die of coffee withdrawal I can be interred in their shrine at Koya San (above).


Most: Sometime close to 7:30am, I woke in the middle of a strange dream that work had infiltrated. I was roaming around a lush and large campus looking for my class. The place where my class was supposed to be had been overwhelmed by drunken college types who reluctantly moved away after being shouted at. Strangely, the breakthough moment came when I saw a battered battle tank driving up some stairs, dropping metal as it ploughed through the concrete. As it turned out, the tank driver was a student's mother arriving to pick her up. It seemed that driving tanks on errands had become something of a trend to show off your battle scars. I never found the class and now I sit bemused that my most interesting moment was in my sleeping hours.

PM

Least: Between 12:10pm and 12:30pm, I discovered that railway employees shared some common and boring features the world over. After going to the 'travelling today' desk to buy shinkansen tickets and refused service, Rosie and I entered the dreadfully long 'travelling in a few days' queue. The number of very old and tight people in the line didn't help, but the staff were moving as slowly as any of the single finger typists at the Flinders' Street V-Line office. Each transaction took far too many minutes and the clerks repeated every step more than enough times. Twenty minutes later we finally got our tickets to Shin-Yokohama I hope the wait was worth it.

Most: At nearly 5:00pm, I was staring aghast at an ancient man riding a tricycle (see file photo right) in Life supermarket. The old man was a sorry sight with an oxygen tank in his trike tray and tubes up his nose. Although he was carrying a massive walking frame, the tricyclist thought that the fastest way to the booze section was on wheels. Upon detecting the trike, the staff quickly stopped the offender in his tracks and assisted him in parking his vehicle outside like everyone else. By the look on the faces of the staff they knew this man well. I'm sure he'll be back attempting the same wild ride to the booze pile next week.