The Return

AM

After a bumpy overnight flight between Kuala Lumpur and Osaka, the last thing I needed was was slow train home - but that's what I got. Despite paying extra for a seat on the extravagant Rapi:t B, the train crept along to Tengachaya station, probably because of work on the tracks. The train ride home perfectly illustrated the contrast between relaxed Malaysia and up-tight Japan. After only ten days in Malaysia, I'd already become re-accquainted with, multiculturalism, relaxed and expressive people, rich flavours and even richer smells. (right) The sterile uniformity of Kansai Airport and its people made my return to Japan almost depressing. This is probably true about the end of any holiday, but like my last return, Japan seemed stranger than ever. Almost to a person, people were asleep in their seats, their heads at a 48 degree angle (some probably drooling helplessly onto their shoulders). Everyone was wearing similar winter uniforms of dull colours, blacks, browns and greens, with a touch of fur to add dazzle. The most pungent odour I came across was a faint trace of laundry detergent mixed with cigarette and morning beer breath. I was underdressed and therefore cold and irritable. Between 8:00am and about 9:20am, I really hated Japan. Having to work at 2:00pm later in the day didn't help either.

PM

At 2:00pm, my foolish plans to maximise my holiday time came back to haunt me. As I walked in the door of the school, I could alreading feel my lids beginning to creep over my eyeballs. The next six hours were perfectly arranged, with every minute accounted for and every word I was to hear utterly predictible. By 3:30pm, I was listening to a standard account of a Japanese New Year's day, and, as my eyes glazed over for the second time that day, I imagined myself back in the Shangri-la Hotel looking out over the tropical city and the Petronas Towers. And in that hotel room, I was imagining myself being dragged through the tropical

waters of the Anadaman Sea behind a yacht - a nice refuge (above). As I walked home at about 8:50pm, it was below five degrees and I could detect the faint smell (left) of three dishes as I passed the massive houses near the station - sukiyaki (and its variations), grilled fish and Japanese curry. I wondered what a street might smell like  in a multicultural Japan?

The Faint Smell of Burning Toast

AM

Since the fire on Monday, our apartment has smelt like burning toast. The mornings though, have been freezing and early on Wednesday morning, I noticed that the hills toward Mount Kongo were dusted in snow. Once again, it's as if a switch has been flipped from Autumn to Winter in an instant. Incredibly, the number of women wearing real fur seems to be in plague proportions. It is striking, how despite global opinion, Japanese people seem to be happy and confident enough to do whatever takes their fancy. Again on Wednesday morning, I read a Japan Rail travel advertisement for Tohoku that included a bowl of whale blubber soup as one of its attractions. Later the same morning, I spoke to three women about eating whale meat and they professed that it's smell made their stomachs turn - as school kids they had all been fed a steady diet of cetecean flesh for lunch. On a more boring note, this morning was essentially ruined by a trip to the immigration bureau. Although I got my three year visa smoothly, the sight of the 'crats wading through the overheated room a snails pace made my skin crawl. At least I won't have to go back for a while.

PM

The freezing gale that buffeted my trip home on Thursday night, was a crushing addition to my doldrums after finding that Brutal Truth had begun playing just as I clocked off at Nakamozu. All afternoon, I had been cold to the bone. Unusally, the school was barely heated, probably in an attempt to save money. As the year draws to a close, the business at work seems to be waning, and as a result, folding promotional flyers has again become a fixture to my days. A rare highlight on Thursday was being asked what I found embarrassing about Japan. I'm still not sure what the question actually meant, but my reply included the fact that nude bathing is reserved for oddballs in Australia. It's probably another example of Japan's collective neurosis that people are happy enough to show the world everything on the outside but nothing of their inner lives. Frustratingly fascinating.

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.