The Ringing of the Ears

Monday 2nd November 2009

AM

Least: At 9:00am, my alarm barely penetrated the ringing in my ears from last night's gig. Although the ringing had reduced to a mere static crackle, it was very disconcerting and a reminder that earplugs are essential for gig going in Japan. The other, albeit minor injury I recieved, was a smallish puncture wound on the back of my hand, caused by a guitarist's ridiculously bestudded jacket and an out of control moshpit. I just hope the studs (right) were surgical steel.

Most: Just after 11:00am, I dragged my bike from under five other bikes which had been blown over by the gale that was buffeting Osaka. It is incredibly how quickly the weather went from  pleasantly Autumn to uncomfortably cold. My ride to the supermarket was assisted by a roaring tailwind, but the ride home was stymied by the wintery blast. The bikes that I had picked up at the beginning of my journey were all blown to the ground upon my return.

PM

Least: At around 5:30pm, I stood waiting for my training at Headquaters to start. I was immediately assailed by a crashing bore, who, new to a trainers position could help attempting a serious discussion about education with me. Almost groaning, I wondered if he realised the comedy of his earnestness in a room, one day from moving, filled with half-filled cardboard boxes. I'm sure he didn't and I hope that he impressed his superiors.

Most: At 9:20pm, as I braved the wind (see the god right) on my way to the Namba Nankai station, I was amazed at the fashion transformation that had occured during the day. People had gone from jeans and t-shirts, to puffer jackets, scarves and beanies. It reminded me of Melbourne, where at the first hint of a cool breeze in Autumn, people dress as if they're in a frozen wasteland in the Northern Hemisphere. Interesting - kind of.

The Secret

AM

Least: By 12:01am I had been at 39000 feet for three hours on my secret voyage to Australia. Between 12:01am and 6:30am, I sat awake, having already watched a bowdlerised version of Slumdog Millionaire and exhausted the 'entertainment' package. The view of thick typhoony cloud out the window, did little to distract me from the constant sneezing, coughing and snoring of hundreds of other 'pax', mostly Japanese. One child appeared to have a nervous cough, another flyer sneezed at a rate of 6 per-minute, while a guy across from me gurgled through his blocked nose like a perculator. It seemed impossible that so many people could be so annoying for so long. The airline food-based farting started at about 2:00am. Two out of the four toilets were functioning.

Most: At about 3:30am, our ship jetted over the Bismarck Sea and Papua New Guinea. By this time a fullish moon had made an appearance and the dead ocean finally coughed up a few lights. A few pinpricks at sea I imagined to be small islands or oil rigs and a cluster on the northern coast of PNG may have been Madang, Sio or old Finschaffen, and another may have been a giant mining operation. Either way, it was interesting to imagine the life that was spending the night down on the ground. Mostly, they were probably sleeping in darkened villages, yet to get a scrap from the minerals being taken from them by the megaton.

PM

Least: As I arrived in Melbourne at about 12:15pm to the news of a 2:00pm check-in I looked with disinterest at the same hipster uniformity that had annoyed me six months ago. In everyone's desperate quest for 'cool' people seem to be as conservative as ever - black on grey on black*. It's easier to look like a young B-Dylan when it's 11 degrees. Beards seem to be on the decline however. (*note me wearing black on grey above)

Most: As we were welcomed to the Windsor by a man in a top hat sometime after 2:15pm, Rosie and I glee'd over our six year anniversary and the success to date of our plan for a surprise visit to Melbourne. Since the 22nd of April we have been quietly being quiet about our holiday plans. An internet blackout and light misinformation campaign in July appears to have worked to cloak our intentions to crash my Mum and Sister's birthday meal in Northcote. Rosie's sister, Virginia literally collapsed in a heap at the sight of Rosie at her door on Tuesday. Tomorrow's big entry will be very interesting indeed - provided our intelligence on the party's time and location is accurate.

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Food Note:

Lowlight: The Jetstar breakfast choice number 1 was an egg and cheese roll on over-herbed bread. The soggy clot was nothing other than repulsive.

Highlight: By about 7:00pm I was delighting in the Deep-Fried Pork-Belly with Red Curry at Cookie in Swanston Street. The costly German Riesling was incredible.