Fly Away Home

I write to you all from Bangkok Airport, an hour before I embark on the final leg of my journey- first to Japan for three hours, then Copenhagen for one, then to England for hours too numerous to count. I can't say I'm best pleased that my travels are coming to an end. The trip has been, to put it mildly 'a blast'. However, as my funds are about to run dry and as I need to earn a bit more so I can eat food at Uni, perhaps it's for the best.

 

So, where does that leave this blog? Well fear not- I've still got a whole journal full of my Jungle adventures to post yet. And after that.. Who can say? Who dares to dream? Thanks for reading.

 

(This entry was going to be longer, but I'm about to run out of internet time and I've already run out of Baht.)

Get the picture

Yesterday, while biking up some mountain or other, I caught a rare and wonderful site. A very small kitten, sitting on the back of a very big labrador on the balcony of a very queint mountain shack. It was a million dollar shot. The scene was so cute it would have sold postcards the world over.

A few meters up from the happy cross species couple sat a middle aged woman doing the washing up. I mimed 'camera' at her, but she shook her head. Thinking she didn't understand, I took out my Camera and pointed to it. She started shaking her head more rapidly and gesticulating wildly. Flummoxed I pointed it at the cat and dog. She let out a loud groan and half dived towards them, ready to take the bullet. Worried I would send the poor dear into cardiac arrest, I put the Camera back in my backpack and cycled despondantly onwards.

I later found out that many of Sapa's mountain tribes beleave that a Camera will steal a peice of your soul. Apparently they take animal souls also. By the time I'd left, pictureless, the mountain woman was in quite a state. A bad day for both of us. I guess ignorance isn't always bliss...

Fansipansies

Surrounding Sapa are the Hoang Lien Mountains, nicknamed the Tonkinese Alps by the French. These mountains include Fansipan which at 3143m is Vietnam's highest peak... The peak is accessible all year to those in good shape and properly equipped, but don't underestimate the challenge. It is very wet, can be perilously slipery and generally cold, so you must be prepared... The round trip usually takes three to four days; some very fit and experienced hikers have made it in two days, but this is rare.

Or so quoth the Lonely Planet. We headed out for the top of Fansipan on monday at 9am reached the peak at 2pm and returned (frustratingly) the next day at 11am after only 9 1/2 hours of hiking with Justin and Kyle making it in 8 & 3/4. To accompany us on our trek we hired a guide to guide us and a porter to carry vegetables. A porter may be considered cheating but, as things turned out, it was lucky we took him. Our guide ditched us at first camp- a mere hour into the adventure- claiming that we were too fast for him. Now there's value for money...

After an hours break at base our steadfast porter ditched his bags of veg and milk and trotted on up the mountain with us as our new guide. He may not have spoken English, but without the load he easily matched our pace, showed no signs of tiring, knew the way like the back of his hand and most importantly didn't chicken out before he was a third of the way up!

The final ascent the the summit was hard, especially as Kyle and Justin were both stronger and fitter than me but a Snickers and a generous portion of peanuts kept me going and we scaled the mountain slightly before two.

'I'll look at the view after I've finished this level...'

The real challenge for me was the descent. I'm not too good at descents- my lack of co-ordination makes putting my feet in a place that won't leave me with (further) permanent brain damage quite a challenge. I spend half the time carefully planning my next step, 40% in painful free-fall and the remaining 10% recovering from the painful free-fall.

Justin and Kyle bounded down at an incredible speed, while I was left stumbling after the guide. This was coupled with the frustration that we had to get back by half past four if we wanted to make the climb in a single day. J + K arrived in camp at five, while I turned up at five fifteen, roaring for the final hours descent (and knowing that if we waited another day, my knees would be agony). Sadly our wimpy guide dissuaded us from making the final climb, claiming that it would be dark within half an hour. Despite my protestations (the last section of the climb was obviously marked, only an hour in duration and would have been easy to do with torches), the guide wouldn't budge and finally convinced us to stay for the night. It got dark two hours later. Methinks he wanted his dinner...

The next morning my knees were agony and it had rained so much during the night that our route had to be extended by two km to avoid the river. I could hardly walk and the final hobble took two excruciating hours- an hour more than it would have the day before. Disappointed but triumphant we headed back the the hotel for a slapup meal. 9 1/2 hours was tough, but four days? That's surely only for Fansipansies!

Rice wine with apple syrup- a tough end to a tough climb.

Gandering at the Minh

Hello from Hanoi. Today we took a proper gander at a couple of Hanoi's more 'govermentally prepared' sights and glimpsed the hard laboured fruits of the regime's tourism board. I've been too lazy to write a blog entry myself, but here's something pinched from one of Justin's e-mails.

Despite the fatigue, we've had a fun-filled day of communist adventures, starting with a visit to the stuffed corpse of Ho Chi Minh. They've got him shacked up in a plain grey square building (basically communism in building form) with a half-mile long cue of visitors tailing from the entrance, lined up in double file and marched at a steady pace in, around the taxonomised corpse, and out in silence, no smiling. Grim stuff. Uncle Ho was in ship shape though, especially for a man who's been dead for 40years. [D's note: Obviously his yearly three month holiday in Russia does him a world of good. His forehead was polished and his suit was dead fashionable! The poor guy never wanted to be given the communist embalming treatment (perhaps he thought it was a bit stuffy), but if he could see himself now, maybe he'd change have a change of heart.]

We've just got back from the Prison Museum of Hoa Lo, the place where John McCain and a bunch of American POW's were tortured and/or killed in horrific unsanitary conditions. Terrible museum, but the propaganda was unbelieveable. Half of the compound was set up to paint an ugly image of the french colonialists, who ran the prison to house vietnamese revolutionaries in the 1st half of the 20th century, while the second half showed images of grinning American POWs eating christmas dinner, playing billiards, even (the audacity is immesurable) recieving souvineirs upon their departure (!), amongst other rediculous items of blatant propaganda. Hilarious, yet chilling.

Today we head up to Sapa, the town at the foot of Fansipan (Phan Xi Păng), aboard the night train. The sleeper carriges were already fully booked so we were left with 15$ economy tickets. Tonight we'll be roosting with the roosters (or if the bridges are in bad nick, maybe kiping with the kippers). We plan to scale the mountain, so expect more news about our misguided preperations soon!

A stitch in time (New! Now spelt right!)

Our route through Vietnam has been pretty much planned for us as we took the economical option and bought an open night bus ticket up the coast, heading from Saigon to Mui Ne to Nah Trang to Hoi An to Hue and finally to Hanoi. This may be restrictive but the destinations so far have been pretty terrific.

Our last stop was Hoi An, a small, quint tailoring town by the sea. There are over 200 tailors in Hoi An and the price of a best-material, made-to-measure garment is so low you'd have to have a stitch loose not to get something made. I'm not the clothes buying type (frankly it gives me the shivers) but even I somehow ended up with a Tux, 3 shirts, a detective coat and- the gild on the lily- a tweed jacket. On top of my new threads I also picked up a nasty virus and, when I subsequently decided to return home early from the bar, spent a rather nasty night wandering around a pitch black Hoi An in a feverish delirium wondering were the heck my hotel was. This ordeal included a panicked moneyless quest for water as Nationwide decided to suddenly cut my debit card off and a 'thrilling' chase by rabid (or maybe very libidinous) dogs.

I write to you now from the historic town of Hue (Hue-ey) where I've spend a nice day wandering the ruins of an old dynastic castle and looking at tanks captured from Vietnamese puppet soldiers during the War. Tomorrow will be another day of fun frolicking around the 'Hue area' (with possible tombs if I can convince Justin, who for some unfathomable reason finds tombs boring) followed by a night of cruel toil on the 14 hour bus journey to the capital. I wonder if my excessive new wardrobe will fit on the bus...

Commencing operations in 'Nam

As you can see I haven't managed to type up the jungle journal yet. Of course I mean too, but whenever I look at the massed pages of scruffy writing I my desire to tell the world deserts me and I put the darned book back in my bag. I'll get round to it eventually. That aside, I'm in Vietnam now and have been for the last couple of days. Our first port of call was Ho Chi Minh City (also know as Saigon). I think Saigon has to qualify as my favorite South East Asian city so far. It had a cheery, bustling *almost* cosmopolitan atmosphere, full of that 'Parisian colonial charm' the Lonely Planet is always harping on about.

What food we tasted was excellent and the prices were about half those in Cambodge ( surprisingly!). They also had milk products, real milk products, which I'd been craving for a while. Cambodian yogurt just didn't cut it.

Regrettably we only got to spend half a day with Ho Chi Minh as our night bus left at eight (Oh how I love night buses..)

I now write to you from the pleasant seaside town of Mui Ne, which has crystal waters, shimmering sands and wavy palms (etc. etc...)- We've already visited the local dunes for a spot of 'Dune Boarding" (four local kids pushed us down steep sand banks on thin pieces of plastic) and got a 'LEONIDAS' haircut for Justin at 'Toni and Tuan' (due to the dangers of copyright infringement, Guy gets the brushoff in 'Nam). I think this picture sums up both activities nicely:

This is not madness- this is VIETNAM!

Next we jouney on to Nha Trang and then Hoi An (both also by nightbus). What excepting happenings and riviting adventures and await us there? As always.. watch THIS space.

Jungle Japes

You haven't heard much from me for the last two weeks because I've been on an Elephant trek in the deep dark heart of Cambodia's Botum Sikor National Park. It was an ultimately unsuccessful Elephant trek, sure, but while there were no actual Elephants, there were fun times and Jungle japes to be had. Who could ask for anything more?

I kept a journal while I was there, which I hope I'll soon be able to *convert to blog*. However, at the moment things are a bit hectic (Justin has come down with mystery fever, hopefully not Dengue) and I haven't the time or strength for deciphering my own handwriting.

Watch this space.

(In the meantime, BBC News 24 tells me Firefox 3 is out- Download that and tell me what it's like!)

Excuse the Gap

I haven't had the chance to write for a few days as things have been pretty darn busy and internet has been pretty darn expensive. Justin, Katie and I have spent the last few days in a town called Vang Vieng, the friends capital of South East Asia.

Activities in VV included Tubing (going down a very dirty river on a fairly dirty tire inner tube), drinking and watching films. That wasn't too exciting and both Katie and Justin managed to loose their Cameras (+ I think my Ipod may have bought it...) but on the other hand:

....Awesome

On the road to Luang Prabang

I've spent quite a lot of time on buses recently, but the last twenty four hours have been the most 'hardcore' yet. We left Pakse at 8pm yesterday on the 'night bus'- an aircon bus with beds.

We'd expected a bed each but soon discovered it was two to a bunk. A rather apprehensive game of Rocks-Paper-Scissors decided that Justin would have to sleep next to a stranger while Katie and I shared. However, the Lao girl who was to share with Justin was less than happy about this arrangement and I soon wound up snuggled a bit too close to comfort in a very small bed with the very chunky Justin and our very big very blue guitar.

When the bus started, the cramping became the least of my worries. The quality of the road did nasty things to my stomach and the location of the air conditioning valve did even nastier things to my feet. As you can imagine, I didn't get much sleep that night. Justin and I managed to ignore the pain by listening to episode after episode of 'the now show' and we giggled uncontrollably far into the night. Not so pleasant for the other passengers but it was the only thing that kept me sane.

We arrived at Vientiane at 6am and an hour and a half later boarded the next bus for the ELEVEN HOUR journey to Luang Prabang. There was literally nowhere to sleep on this second bus and the air conditioning was so powerful that the temperature was into the minuses. If we hadn't been dressed for tropical climates it wouldn't have been so bad, but wearing a T-Shirt in a below freezing bus with nowhere to sleep sent us all into primal rage.

Our mood wasn't improved by the onboard entertainment where a rather ugly Laos Woman sang song upon song about her failed relationships of the past (almost invariably starting with a handsome chap knocking her over Noting Hill style and almost invariable ending with him being stupid/unfaithful/blown up).

Luckily the scenery outside the bus was absolutely stunning and odd shaped, green mountain ranges of Laos were both beautiful and haunting.

And they will be even more so tomorrow after some (much needed) sleep!

Doin' Laos

The last couple of days have been spent on the 4000 islands- a collection of far less than 4000 Islands on the Mekong river. Electricity was from 6-10, there was no internet, we went on treks (i.e walks, but quite hot), traveled in boats and ate fresh Laos farm produce. It was all very healthy and idyllic.

I'm now in Pakse which is a dusty town in the heart of coffee growing territory. We traveled here in some very dubious vehicles- first a rickety canoe with a tacked on motor, then a very cramped bus with a lizard, some chickens and two piglets in a big brown bag.

It was great fun! Wish you were here. All of you.

Off to Laos (a brief update)

I spent the last few days in Siem Reip looking round the Angkor temples, which were frankly amazing. The magnitude and intricacy of some of those structures defies belief and jumping round the ancient rocks made me feel quite the young Indiana Jones. I did have a few reservations. It was a bit touristified in certain areas (although not nearly as bad as it could have been) and, on top of that, outside every temple we were accosted by hundreds of junk-selling small children. I also wish I knew far more of the history of Angkor than I do. Maybe something to study next year? I'll have to have another read of the Archaeology syllabus.

Today was filled by a rather taxing eight hour bus ride to Kratie- an old, middle-of-nowhere, colonial town close to the Laos boarder. Tomorrow we head of to Laos to read text books on an Island. My 'nerdy' ideal of heaven really.

I'd like to write more but am totally blasted from the bus journey. Also, the price of the internet goes up every 15 minutes and while half an hour is more than enough for a blog entry I hate the 'rushed' feeling.

 My camera is filled with good temple pictures, so hopefully I'll find an easy way to upload those in the near future. I'll try and write again soon but I don't know if I'll have web access on the islands so can make no promises!

Khmer Red

Most countries have not been without their share of atrocities but Cambodia's amoung the worst. From 1975-1979 Pol Pot's brutal regime stormed Cambodia, imprisoning, killing and forcing the luckier people into 'collective farms' /labour camps. The crimes meriting death applied to almost everyone (scroll down to "Alleged Crimes against humanity" for the blow by blow account) and 2,000,000 out of the countries 7 million population had either starved to death, worked to death of been executed by the time of the Khmer Rouge's fall.

As one of the categories fit for execution was 'former urban dwellers' the people of Cambodia's capital Phnom Pehn bore the brunt of the Rouge's genocide. The entire population of the city was shipped out to the killing fields and, if lucky, shot or imprisoned/executed in one of Pehn's detention camps. Yesterday I visited Toul Sleng, the biggest and most infamous camp in the city. To say the experience was harrowing is to cheapen it.

Once a school, Toul Sleng was converted into a prison camp at the beginning of the regime and soon became the head quarters of 'S-21', the Khmer Rouge secret police. The few large school buildings, neatly placed round two square courtyards were deceptively pretty. Flowers, tall palms and sunshine disguised the horrors within. Though most of the school was split into minature cells, the rooms in the first building remained unconverted and must have been used for the more important inmates. Their status obviously didn't help them end and next to each bed was a black and white photo of it's inhabitant's fate. I shan't go into any details about these pictures but if they had been coloured I wouldn't have been able to look at them. Less important prisoners were housed in the second building which had been completely restructured by the Rouge into hundreds of tiny dank cells. On the walls of some were tallys counting the number of days imprisoned. Mercifully, few of the tallys ran very long....

The buildings on the second courtyard were mainly dedicated to photographs of the hundreds murdered. The killing ended less than 30 years ago and the rows of reasonably modern looking hair cuts really brought home the fact that these were real people. A fact further driven in by the piles of discarded clothes and finally the shelves of mutilated human skulls. Three rooms on, I heard a guide telling the story of the execution of her family and her deportation to the country, next were all the torture devices collected from the facility, then came paintings done by one of Sleng's seven survivors depicting thumb screw torture, inmates being hung with hooks from their flesh, upside down corpses stacked in jars, one with his hips and legs completely removed, teams of blindfolded men being led to their destruction and other scenes too dreadful to remember. Perhaps thankfull this was a bit too much for the lass I'd taken with me and she rushed on ahead meaning I didn't have time to give the captions much attention.

There was a film which I would also have liked to stay longer and watch. Such horrors should be seen, should be remembered. Alas I was dragged away- hell hath no fury than a woman horrified. Should have done movies and theme parks I guess...

This was yesterday. Today I had a massage by the blind, bought a casio watch with disco lights and tomorrow I'm off to marvel at Ankor Wat- all very happy and not at all genocidal. I hope that's cheered you up.

Pehn Palls

You'll all be glad to hear that I've arrived safe and sound in Phnom Pehn, the capital of Cambodia. The city is an interesting mix of Indian style anarchy and decaying parisian charm. Garbage, motorcycles and stray dogs jostle in the wide roads and people barter in dirty shops built under the decaying boulevards.

The first two days with Justin were a touch strained for both of us. Neither had had much sleep and we both lamented the loss of the freedom afforded to those traveling solo- I spent half the time doing my best Marvin the paranoid andriod impression and the other half on cloud nine. Justin found coping with my continuous mood swings almost as hard as I did! Last night, however, both of us had a good nine hours sleep and today was refreshingly jocular and chirpy.

There's so so so much I could say. However I have little time and have ingested a little too much dubious whisky so I'm afraid I'll have to keep things short and succinct.

-Phnom Pehn is a little shocking after Japan and I'm quite full of Japanese home sickness (assuming such a thing exists). Combodje is more expensive than I'd hoped and in the last few days I've had to spend almost eighty pounds on visas, bike helmets and other necessities. I'm hoping that things will cheapen up soon but it could be hard to stay on budget. My fingers are crossed.

-The people are very friendly although, like in India, very keep to strip me of as much money as possible. Luckily Khmers are less tenacious than the people in Hyderabad and get the message if you don't want to spend.

-The scenery is very pretty and our guest house is built on stilts above the river. The splashing of boats in the water and the waving on rice shoots is beautiful. Just don't look too hard and any of the objects floating in the water.

- The other tourists are tiresome and all their time getting stoned watching the TV. It makes me sad to be white.

-On the other hand the people I'm travelling with- Justin and Katie, his friend from the jungle- are great and, in intelligence and wit, more than make up for all the despicable pot heads.

-The food is alright, if you're lucky. Not as good as Thai food though!

- The coffee is really very good!

And I'm afraid that's all I have time for as we're about to head off to 'the heart of darkness', Pehn's deepest, darkest, most dubious night club. I've not had time to proof read this entry at all, so I'm sure it's full of grammar errors. Pick your favorite and post them in the comments box below.

I'll try to give you another update soon if I have time....

Now to the heart, where the shadows lie!

Thaired Out

Three... hours.. sleep. My mental condition is not great but could be worse considering.

Anyway, I'm HERE. I mean, I'm usually here but today I'm HERE in Bangkok and tomorrow I'll be THERE in Phnom Pehn.

First Impressions:

Thailand is a lot nicer looking than India. As expected I got bombarded at the airport by hundreds of people trying to get me to take a ride in their taxi. A good lot of yelling 'METER METER' got me a ride that only cost one quid more it should have been. The taxi driver was a total nutter and for the whole journey he hand-danced with one hand to aweful aweful American pop songs from Thai International Radio. He only stopped his dancing to turn corners, If I'd had the energy I would have been scared witless.

Thailand is a pretty place, with lots of green, pretty flower and wide roads. There might not be seatbelts in the back of cars but at least they use their rear view mirrors unlike some countries I've been too.

Anyway, I think that's all I'm capable of writing without falling asleep on the keyboard so I'm off to find an ATM and a pick-me-up. Another blog entry... eventually.

So long and thanks for all the raw fish

Today is my last day in Japan and so this is also my last daily blog entry. I haven't had such a good time in quite a while and really don't want to leave. I've got to rush as the post office shuts soon but I think there's just time for some hurried thanks to all the people who've made Japan a blast.

In no particular order I'd like to thank Yano Noriko, the person who taught me much of the Japanese I know and made the process a pleasure (not to mention treating me to a spectacular day at Fuji). Yoko Chandler for her hours of patient conversation practice which gave me the confidence to use Japanese in real world situations and who I'm truly lucky to have met. Motoko Brimmicombe-Wood who introduced me to Yoko and who's insights into Japanese life and culture have been 'golden'. Mai Hirai-san, who helped organize my accommodation and who'd perfect English and cheery e-mails actually made if fun. Kei Koike who's drive and motivation give him the energy to set up my Japanese school from scratch and who showed me the fantastic Kamakura. And last but not least, Alex Brooke who, on top of the podcasts and the day in Tokyo bay, give me the advice and motivation I needed to make it to Japan.

Every single one of you has spoiled me rotten and I'm truly truly grateful.

Honorable mentions go to Tom, Joel and Ami for being pretty awesome, to my long suffering family for their long suffering and to the next door Malcolm and the Malcom-tachi for the 'good times'. Thanks also to everyone I missed out thanking. You were great and I'm sorry I forgot you. Yes you!

Last but not least, thanks to Japan. For being there.

Next stop: Bangkok

Fun Thursday

Today I went for an adventure around Tokyo with Arex Brook of 'Learn Japanese with Beb and Alex'- a podcast which holds claim to the title of 'first Japanese language learning podcast ever created'.

Our travels kicked off with a stroll to the h-h-huge Asakusa Temple which, like most famous Japanese temples, was half awe-fillin' olde world Japanese architecture and half tacky tourist naff. Even though it was a Thursday the place was packed with hundreds of tourists from all over Japan, taking in the sites and buying the tack. The numbers were quite mind-bogglesome and Alex & I took the opportunity to do a spot of people watching. It was hard to decide which was the more interesting, the temple or the multitudes. The temple structure itself was impressive but didn't quite capture the charm of some of the more remote Kamakuran 'Zen dens'. On the patented 'Duncan sliding scale of Temple quality' it ranks at a 7.5 with an extra A for effort.

Once we'd finished scaring the people at the central shrine by talking loudly about gas attacks on the underground, we hit a nearby Sushi bar and gulped some raw fish. I tried to grab the more exotic pieces and generally wasn't disappointed. I say generally because for my last dish I unwisely picked up some sea urchin meat. Here's a tip for anyone eating Sushi in Japan- sea urchin is not good. Most Sashimi is sweet and chewy but Urchin is globby and bitter. I've never tasted street Urchin but I doubt it's a lot worse. Luckily there was free ginger on hand for my second slice and I was able to totally drown the flavor.

Having Sushi'd, we took to the high seas in a cruise around Tokyo bay. It's hard to think of Tokyo as a port town but a port town in is. The reflections of Skyscrapers twinkled in the ocean and seagulls cawed and skimmed the waves. Actually, thinking back, there was a worrying absence of seagulls. Had there been seagulls though, rest assured they would have cawed and skimmed the waves.

The last port of call was Tokyo bay's pleasure beach which, for Tokyo, was fantastically scenic. We chilled out in front of a mock Jamaican cafe and chewed the fat with a couple of drinks and a pizza. Despite my protestation Alex bought the first round, so I retaliated by buying the second. While paying for it, almost dropping my wallet and working out how much two drinks cost, through slight of hand Alex managed to pay for the whole pizza without me noticing. I only realized in the train on the way home so, if you're reading this Alex, thanks for that. Expertly done!

And, for that matter, thanks also for a wonderful day! Not often does one get the chance to 'hang' with such a natural conversationalist, nor with the man behind Learn Japanese Pod. I enjoyed every minute (even the Urchin, in it's way) and was gutted to see the day end. All good things must come to an end, I guess, and so must this leg of my journey- tomorrow is woefully my last day in Japan.

No, no, wait. Looking at the clock, it is already my last day in Japan and has been for three hours. I'd probably better hit the hay. Goodnight all!

Not so strange?

Japan can be weird, there are no two ways about it. It can be strange with a capital Z. However, this is not too say that it's completely odd. All I've written about so far is the bizarre & the outlandish and I'm worried that the image I've given of your average Japanese citizen is gambling addicted salary man in a maid costume with robot friends and a toilet that squirts you.. or something even less understandable.

This is not the case at all. Most Japanese people, while being a little politer and more reserved than the English, are completely 'normal'. They think that dressing up as a maid or spending eight hours in a pachinko is just as odd as your average foreign person would. The big difference is that when faced with something funky, crazy or inappropriate, their initial reaction is not to correct, criticize or shame it, but to accept that it is strange and leave it in peace. 'If you want to pretend you're a big blue dog then go for it, as long as I don't have to be involved'.

In Hyde Park, London, dressing up as Elvis and dancing the day away would earn you cat calls, swear words, general derision and quite probably some form of physical violence. In Yoyogi Park people either think 'Oh, not my thing' and move right along or 'ahh, at least these fellows are passionate about something' and watch for a bit. There's no desire to shame the Elvises (Elvice?) into hanging up their blue swayed shoes simply for being different. They're just accepted and, for the most part, left well alone.

The same goes spirit of acceptance goes for products as well. If offered a toilet that squirts, your average brit would shy away 'If I buy this, what will my friends think?'! In Japan people recognize that the squirt could do a better job than the paper and so spray away.

This 'each to his own' philosophy can has it's downs as well of it's ups of course. The lack of 'good morning's, 'how d'you do's and sarcastic 'Effing great weather isn't it mate?'s can be a little stifling at times and people keep their opinions to themselves to such an extent that it's often quite hard to know if you've made a terrible gaffe.

If only there was some way to strike a happy medium. Without using a cricket bat.

(I know there are a good few honest-to-goodness-genuine-nihonjin who read this. Have I got the right end of the stick here? If you have any thoughts then do put them in the comments. I love hearing what people have to say.)

Jeans Mate, Jeans Love

Today, a one stanza poem from Shibuya:

I love JEANS!

We love jeans.
All the jeans lovers are mates to us.
We want to become the good advisors of jeans.
Good jeans.
Good mates.
There are them in!
"JEANS MATE"
Love

...beaut.

Say Cheezu

Yet another terrifying pastime that's hit the nation of Japan by storm is the photo parlors. Mostly frequented by school girls, these places can be genuinely scary. I've used them on two separate occasions, the first time of my own free will with Tom, Joel and Ami, the second when four of my female classmates literally dragged me in.

The photo parlors or 'purika' are all over Tokyo, often linked to glitzy amusement arcades. Sparkly pink halls filled with countless booths, pictures of horribly over made-up women covering every surface. Pick the least ghastly booth (or, if you're with the lasses from my school, the most ghastly), pay four hundred yen between you and step inside.


Then cover your ears, 'cause in Japan it's sexy for teenage girls to speak in the squeakiest voices they can muster and these machines are aimed at teenage girls. The booths screech out instructions at a frequency so high it could reheat your lunch. Dogs for miles around know exactly what's being said but the human ear is incapable of comprehending without special training.

In your shock, press one of the many buttons on the touch screen panel and you will be presented with a selection of whacky and wonderful backgrounds for your picture. Blue beaches, pink hearts, red sunsets, pink teacups, green sparkles, pink flowers, pink beaches, just pink, light pink, dark pink, pink hair, pink pink, pink everything. There really is a lot of pink. Once you've decided on six backgrounds, press the okay button and the voice starts screeching again "ICHI, NI, SAN, YON, CHEEEEEEZUUUUUUUU". It takes photo after photo in quick succession, giving you barely enough time between each one to strike a new pose.

Once the photos are taken, everyone rushes to the other side of the booth to decorate them. You're given a time limit which causes the decoration process to deteriorate into a contest of 'how many sparkles can I get onto each photograph before the clock stops'. If the photos didn't look bad to start with, they will by the time you've finished adorning them with love hearts.

Once that's over and done with the photos are printed on sticky paper and dispensed from the bottom of the booth. Scissors are provided for cutting the stickers up and sharing them out.

My wallet is absolutely packed with these things and I have no idea what to do with them. If anyone has any suggestions then do put them in the comments box. The top prize is a collection of very small photo stickers!

Kings of the Park

Today I went to Yoyogi park and... well.... I think this 12 second video says it all really.

When nature calls

Disclaimer: Readers or a gentle or sensitive disposition should take note that today's entry contains paragraphs of a graphically worded nature with topics and themes unsuitable for dinner table discussion. While none of the below content is particularly shocking, it is almost guaranteed to contain toilet humor. Read on at your peril!

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After making a conscious effort to memorize both the Japanese name and Kanji symbol for 'toilet' (in case of an emergency) I was a little disappointed to find that most sign posts point not to the 'TeArai' (The original Japanese word, lit: HandWash) but to the Toire or toilet. Japanese absorbs so many foreign words each year that I often wonder why I bother learning the langauge. If things continue at this rate, by 2050 Japanese will just be English with a different grammar structure.

Still, while Japanese 'Toires' may bear the same name, they are not completely similar to their western cousins. This has both positive and negative aspects. The main negatives are Japan's 'traditional' style toilets which can be found in most public lavatories and are almost as ghastly as those in French service stations. 'The Squatters', as I've taken to calling them, are basically just rectangular basins in the floor. You roll down your trousers, put one foot either side of the hole and let nature take it's coarse. They're not pleasant to look at and there's always the danger of overbalancing but at least they're simple, unlike the 'western style' facilities.

For Japan's 'western toilets' can get so complex that they require a whole instruction manual before use. When you sit down on one of these futuristic contraptions the first thing you notice is the heated seat. I can see that in many situations this would be beneficial but I was a bit put off by that 'recently used' feeling. Depending on which model you're sitting on you may be also be lucky enough to run into one of the following features.

The 'Extreme Deodorizer'- The extreme deodorizer somehow manages to get rid of smells without making a scent of it's own. Press the button and the smell just vanishes. I don't know what voodoo this is but I want one for my shoes!

Sound Effect- For reasons utterly and completely beyond my comprehension, some Japanese toilets are fitted with a 'flushing sound' button. Press the button and the toilet will make a loud flushing noise, just like the real thing. The purpose of this continues to vex me. Why on earth would you want people to think you were flushing it if you weren't? And, on the rare baffling occasion that you did want people to think you'd flushed, why not actually flush it?

Automatic Flush- Instead of having to pull a dirty handle, toilets often have an infa-red sensor that autoflushes when you stand. Adding this to your setup seems quite a bit more trouble than it's worth but is a nice addition none the less.

'The Nozzle'- It took a lot of bravery to try this one out. If your not the toilet roll type, press the bidet button on the control panel and a jet of water will do the job for you. The water pressure can be adjusted from 'just a squirt' all the way up too 'colonic irrigation' and 'tear me a new one'. There are two squirt modes: Unisex and Ladies only, which make learning the correct Kanji especially important. I'd recommend trying 'the nozzle' once for the experience and never again.

I don't know if these strange devices are overly complex and unnecessary or, to use a colloquialism, 'the shit'. Whatever your opinion, there's no arguing with the popularity of Nihon's automated dunnies. Even now, new loo technologies continue to be developed and I for one look forward to the next great innovation... whatever it maybe.

School Trippin'

Although I'm leaving Japan a couple of weeks too early to join the school trip to Nikko I did get one excursion for my money. The head offices of the NHK , the Japanese equivalent of the BBC (...but nowhere near as good), are based in the centre of Shibuya and a five minute walk away from my language school. To rake in a little more cash from the license payers half of the NHK building is given over to a huge NHK themed museum/experience/attraction which, today, I visited with my class.

NHK has two very popular mascots at the moment. The first is Doumo-kun, a big, brown, square, brick-like, big-mouthed 'thing', who's merchandise can be bought almost globally but who noone actually seems to know anything about. The second is a cream coloured squirrel with a very large, very round head about four times the size of it's body. This one I hadn't seen before, but from the cutesy look of the thing my guess is that it's only a matter of time before he starts popping up all over the world too. Replicas of these critters almost covered the NHK entrance and left me baffled. Almost as baffled as the first few exhibit rooms which told me everything I didn't really want to know about a hundred television dramas I don't really want to watch but that are very big hits. Samurai Sunset, Spirit channeling detectives and a hundred and ten soap operas that looked almost as bad as the English ones (..sorry, they're just not my thing).

The 'making of TV' demonstrations area was the highlight for me, mostly because I got to clown around in front of large crowd of people and, being the exhibitionist I am, I love doing that. My class nominated me to be one of the two participants in the 'news announcer' recording. It basically involved reading seven pages of badly translated self congratulatory NHK propaganda to a room full of forty people.

I played it as a cross between 'The Day Today' and my favorite brand of melodramatic Japanese courtroom drama, interspersing my Chris Morris accent with wildly overstated gesticulations. Understandably I don't think anyone quite knew what was going on but it went down well none the less and people from other classes came up to me afterwards to congratulate my news reading skills and suggest that I get my own show. It's getting quite late now, so I'll stop writing there and leave you with the picture I was presented at the end. A shot that sickeningly says it all.

The Spotted Teenager

As I may have told you before, Shibuya is the teen fashion capital of Japan. It's saturated with branded clothes shops and is said to be full of fashion scouts looking for the next big icon. So widespread are these rumors that some people travel miles to Shibuya in their best attire for the sole purpose of trying to get 'spotted'. I'd heard stories about people being approached but I never imagined it was a very common occurrence until today. For today I, your humble blog author, was 'talent spotted'.

Well, I say talent spotted. Unless 'un-ironed shirt' is the latest 'in thing' (...knowing Shibuya it could be...) I doubt I was selected me for my sense of fashion and my clumsy dodging through the crowds could in no way be described as talented. The real reason I was singled out was for my blond hair and blue eyes but I'm going to humor myself and use the phrase 'talent spotted' none the less.

Anyway, there I was minding my own business and trying to navigate Shibuya's 'scramble crossing' when I heard a polite voice apologizing to my left shoulder. As it's impossible to get through Tokyo without bumping into people, I'm quite used to polite apologies from complete strangers so without looking round I returned the apology and kept walking.

The voice grew louder and switched to English, which was an unusual enough occurrence to get my attention. I looked down to find a very small, very well groomed fellow with well-looked-after shoulder length hair pointing a notebook at me. I asked him if I could help and, after complimenting my inadequate Japanese, he explained that he was a representative of 'Femme Management & Produce' and was recruiting models for a photoshoot on Saturday.

I was surprised and quite touched that anyone would consider me 'model' material, so I agreed to answer a few questions for him. In an odd pidgin of English and Japanese he managed to gleen my hight, name, country of origin, e-mail address, the number of days I had left in Japan and my waist size. He took a couple of pictures with his camera phone and said that he'd consult with his boss who would get back to me. He then thanked me, bowed, earnestly shook my hand and vanished as quickly as he had appeared.

I honestly doubt anything will come of the two miffed pictures he took, but at least I can boast I've been talent spotted! Honestly, whatever next?

Shaking things up

Tokyo just had quite a big earthquake. The main tremors lasted for almost a minute!

Being the sophisticate I am, I was playing my gameboy at the time. I had to quickly decide weather to try and ditch my game and jump under a desk or keep playing and not lose ten minutes of effort. By the time I'd thought it through, the game over fanfare was blaring and the earthquake had all but finished.

Here's to quick thinking.

Boil your own

A couple of my Thai classmates were leaving today so after School a few friends and I headed off to a funky local restaurant for the 'Sayonara' dinner. It took quite a bit of persuading to get me to come along as the pricing was almost eight pounds a meal and really quite expensive for Japan! Eventually I relented and am glad I did, 'cause this place was a true experience. An experience of the kind that would set you back thirty pounds a head in London.

I'm not sure if it was traditional Japanese cuisine or a concept restaurant but either way it was completely interesting. The table was set with twelve small white bowls (two for each of us), a selection of raw meat & vegetables, and two large bubbling cauldrons of boiling broth.

This caused a couple of initial complications, first with someone almost burning themselves on the all but invisible heating rings in the centre of the table, then with me misunderstanding Japanese food rules, thinking the uncooked cow was a sashimi and nearly tucking in (quite logical when you consider that this is a nation who eats raw horse!).

After saving me from this rare fate, my chums explained the restaurant's rules- Into each of your bowls you poured a different sauce- tasty soy in one and creamy sweet peanut in the other- the raw meat and veg was placed into the communal pot until cooked, fished out with chopstick, dipped into whichever sauce took your fancy and then gulped down.

Eight pounds each payed for a one and a half hour 'eat as much as you can' free for all and every time we got low on anything more plates of meat would appear alongside a trolley full of odd vegetables. I ate enough sliced beef to fill me for a month but oddly enough there were absolutely no carbs. Surely a complete heaven for Atkins subscribers but it left my stomach feeling peculiarly empty, despite being about to burst.

I'm off to the convenience store to buy myself an individually wrapped slice of bread to compensate but in the meantime if anyone knows the history and/or name of this strange self boiled cuisine, I'd love to hear your comments. Enlighten me.

Climb every mountain

Mount Fuji is Japan's largest mountain. The country's national symbol stands at 12,338 feet and proudly dwarfs its neighbors, the so called 'Japanese Alps'. On a clear day, if there ever is a clear day in the smoggy capital, it can be seen from Tokyo, Yokohama and even, claims Wikipedia, from Chiba. On top of that Fuji is also an active volcano and if it went off would blast the surrounding tourist resorts for massive damage. All things considered, Fuji is one impressive mound of rock. Today I was treated to a bus tour around it.

The day started, horrifically enough, at 5:55 am. I crawled out of bed and sat in a daze for ten minutes before remembering I had to be at the train station by 6:22 and had to meet my Japanese teacher, the fantastic Noriko-san, in Ikebukuro 23 minutes later. The early rising inhabitants of Shakuji Koen were subsequently treated to the spectacle of a wild eyed and tousled gaijin running at full pelt down the high street, a leaking can of coffee in one hand and large quantities of gift wrapped English tea in the other. Next, the inhabitants of Ikebukuro were treated to the spectacle of a coffee covered, wild eyed, tousled and really quite lost gaijin searching frantically for his Japanese teacher among the crowds. Finally, the inhabitants of the Tokyo Maranouchi Line platform (where we'd agreed to meet if we missed each other at Ikebukuro) were treated to the spectacle of a coffee stained wild eyed, tousled gaijin and a wild eyed, far less tousled Noriko-san finally finding each other and, amid cries of 'thank goodness' & 'Yokkatta', shakily heading to the bus depot.

The day was so full it felt like two and as usual there's far too much to fit into a blog entry. Therefore, also as usual, I'm going to split the Fuji tour into headings. This time one heading for each stop the bus made.

Stop One: A Japanese service station

As the bus headed out of Tokyo everything started to get greener and more leafy. Mountains popped up on the horizon and soon enough we could see the white peak of Fuji-san* himself. After a few minutes of gazing in awe I suddenly realized how tired I was and closed my eyes. While I didn't actually manage to sleep the next thing I can remember with any clarity is the bus arriving at a Japanese motorway service station.

Imagine a cross between 'Welcome break' and an oriental farmers market and you're not too far off. A gaggle of store owners stood in a big, well lit hall touting weird and occasionally wonderful foodstuffs. There were, of course, hundreds of vending machines including one which dispensed chart topping J-Pop albums.

As I'd wasted most of the time we'd been alloted waiting for a 'Western Style Toilet' to free up (Duncan doesn't do squatting) I didn't have much time to chose breakfast so grabbed the first packet of rice balls that came to hand. Back on the bus I discovered that these were Ume Boshi rice balls- The sourest Ume Boshi I've yet tasted. I winced all the way to our next stop.

Stop Two: The Fuji Centre

In all honesty I'm not quite sure why we stopped here. The Fuji centre was a very large building containing a couple of cafes, a gift shop, a few peculiar models of mount Fuji and 'bug' all else. The best thing about it was the outside veranda. Fuji towered impressively above us. Fuji is good at towering impressively above things, it's what it does best!

Stop Three: Mt Fuji fifth station

We left the Fuji center and headed towards Fuji himself. The journey was quite long, but much improved by awe inspiring views of the Japanese alps and the gradual appearance of high altitude snow. After a good few ear-pops we jumped out at 'station five' which was as far as road vehicles are allowed to climb.

Station five was a peculiar mix of olde worlde** Japan and mock alps. After a brief snowball fight with Noriko (the snow had basically frozen) a member of the tour bus staff presented each of us with a mystery ticket. In a nearby gift shop the mystery ticket was exchanged for a mystery bell, which will apparently grant me the gift of longevity. Exiting the gift shop, we headed towards an old mountain side temple, taking a shortcut through a new replica Austrian ski lodge. I've babbled about Japan's crazy juxtaposition before and this was another prime example.

At the shrine we each threw in the traditional five yen, clapped and prayed to whatever full-hardy Shinto deity lives on the bleak snowy slopes. Noriko prayed for safety in her new car and I asked the shrine spirit to make my mystery bell work! For ten yen I'll be surprised the god will go too far out of his way to help us but maybe it's the thought that counts?

Stop Four: Hotel Lunch

Fuji-san sadly behind us, the next stop was at a very swanky looking hotel for lunch. Except for some exquisite Sashimi, the taste was pretty standard Japanese fair (i.e. good, but if you got a blog entry every time I had a good Japanese meal I paradoxically wouldn't have time to eat). The presentation, though, was through the roof. Everything came in it's own little tray, each piece delicately arranged and sprinkled with decorative powders. I felt more like i was tucking into a Van Gough than a bento set.

Stuffed to bursting with fine art, we waddled around the hotel for a little while, finding another massive gift shop, a truly ghastly rainbow wedding dress rental place and, surprisingly enough, a giant theme park in the Hotel's back garden.

Stop Five: The Ice Caves

Next we were dropped in Aokigahara Jukai, a giant forest growing on a lava flow. The forest is infamous for being a popular Japanese suicide destination and when the pressures of life get too much for some, they wander deep into the wood and end it all. The forest is so large that if you wander in far enough you'll very probably become lost and starve to death. It saves people the trouble of actually having to actively kill themselves and there's a Russian roulette element in that it is sometimes possible to escape. 'Recently', I was told, there have been over 300 reported disappearances in the forest with perhaps many more unreported or incorrectly filed. Chilling stuff.

Our purpose in the deep dark woods was a less morbid one. We arrived to see the Aokigahara ice caves- large holes under the ice formed by air bubbles in an ancient Lava flow. The caves were deep and filled with stalagmites, tites, icicles, a lichen that glows in the dark and, for reasons unknown, big bottles of silk worms. It was pretty exciting stuff but I emerged a mite disappointed. Having seen signs for the 'Yougan' (Lit: Lava) caves, I was expecting a glimpse into the bowls of the earth with magma, fire and brimstone. When we got to the end of the tunnel without so much as a molten pebble my heart sank.

Our guide, a very passionate [-about-his-job kinda] man with a practiced, interesting and almost completely incomprehensible narration style cheered me up by complimenting my Japanese and explaining that the caves were formed of lava and not full of it. To celebrate this revelation Noriko and I grabbed ourselves a couple of 'corn' ice creams (a local specialty), which really tasted of corn and were even more delicious than they were interesting.

Stop Six: The Shiraito Waterfall

The last real stop was at Shiraito, recently voted as 'One of Japan's top 100 waterfalls'. Somehow, despite the masses of kitch tourist shacks that lined the banks, this waterfall valley still maintained to maintain an air of sacred and tranquil charm. Not just one waterfall but hundreds of tiny jets fell from a 500 meter wide right angled cliff at the base of a deep gully. Lush overhanging trees grew precariously from the rocks, leaning out as far as was possible to slurp up sunlight without falling into the pool below. There wasn't really much need for words and we sat in silence for some time listening to the water... fall.

Stop Seven and Eight: Home again home again

Worn out we headed back to the bus for the return journey to Tokyo. It made a stop at another Japanese service station and finally arrived in central Tokes for the passengers to take the train home. There ended another brilliant day in Japan. Cambodia beckons but I'm truly gutted to be leaving in under two weeks. Say what you like about it, one thing's for certain: Japan is a country without equal.

I'll end this entry by giving a huge thankyou to Noriko-san who's humor, generosity, general tolerance of my antics and frank, well worded, technical explanations of the Japanese language not only meant for a wonderful day out but have made 'Nihongo' a pleasure to learn. You asked me for an honest blog entry and there it is!

I may not dream of eggplants or hawks but tonight I'll dream of Fuji-san






Monster Trivia: *As well as being an honorific, -san is also the suffix for 'mountain'. The direct English equivalent is 'Mt'. Don't ask me why I always digress into Pokemon trivia but this is the reason that the original Pokemon games had a character called 'Mr Fuji'. The Japanese for 'Mr Fuji' is also 'Fuji-san', the same as 'Mt Fuji'! Geddit? Geddit?!

Olde Trivia: ** Interestingly enough, while it's true that many English words used to be spelled with an extra 'e', in many and most cases the e was silent, hence its eventual emission. Disappointingly enough, Olde Worlde was pronounced old world. Ask a linguist for more.

A thousand more

I'm getting up very early tomorrow to visit Mt Fuji with Noriko-san, my Japanese teacher. It should be a blast but I'll need an early night. With that in mind here's another lazy picture blog entry!

Duncan demonstrates the proper course of action for a Skyscrapers to take during an earthquake.

Some funky monks in Kamakura. Repressing the urge to go on a hat stealing spree was difficult.

Tom and Duncan outside the imperial palace gardens. We would have gone in but for some reason they're closed on Sundays and Mondays. Don't ask me why.

Mr T

Juxtipostion from the imperial palace gardens. (I eventually managed to get in!)


Tokyo is really quite big. It just keeps going and going and going and going... and then going some more.

His imperial majesty's imperial fish.

For my eyes only?

I just got back from Tsukuba, a lovely university town 45 minutes from Tokyo, and am finding it difficult getting back into capital city mode. In Tsukuba the streets are clean, the trees are green, everything is spacious and people look pleased to see you. In old Tokes, fascinating and wonderful as it is, things are a bit cramped and the multitudes look crowded and under slept.

Maybe it's because of this non stop crowding that the Japanese are very keen on protecting their privacy. I first noticed this in a book shop- I was at the till paying for a Kanji guide, when the shop keeper held up what looked like a pretty floral paper bag and asked me if I'd like one for my book. When I said yes he took the paper and oh-so-neatly folded it around the cover so that noone could see what I was reading. I left the shop blushing and feeling more like I'd bought a copy of 'Tits, Norks and Bouncy Bumps' than 'Kanji Master Volume One'. This practice, however, is not at all unusual. On my way home I looked around the train and almost every book was wrapped in a paper cover. In the same vein, you can also buy stickers to put on the front of your phone which render the display invisible unless you're directly facing it.

I can see why these precautions would be popular but unless someone plans to steal my identity, I have few problems with people seeing what I'm reading or writing. If someone wants to share with me the delights of Kanji Master Volume One, they're quite welcome.

Sleepless in Tsukuba

I found this scribbled in my notebook thismorning. As I technically wrote the entry yesterday, I've changed the time stamp to correspond.

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Today I pootled off to Tsukuba for the house warming party of Kiera, a friend from Australia, Cambridge and 'the internet'- All at the same time.

I hadn't slept well the night beforehand and was feeling a little rocky, so made the grave error of buying a large iced coffe as a 'pick me up'. Japanese iced coffee is refreshing, delicious and, for one with a caffeine tolerance as low as mine (as well as a predisposition towards insomnia) utterly deadly.

So here I find myself wide awake at 2am, the beginnings of a hangover gnawing at my stomach, sitting on an unfamiliar floor in and unfamiliar apartment in the dark, dark university town of Tsukuba. Seriously, if you ever want to give me a rough night, don't spike my drink with moonshine, spike it with red bull.

The house warming party was great, although I worry the house may have been more than just warmed. The least pejorative adjective I can think of is "individualized", though in the same way one might individualize one's face by smashing it against a lamp post.

On a more positive note, the party did splendid things for my Japanese and I think I learnt more 'nihongo' tonight that in the whole last week of school.

As least, more applicable 'nihongo'. To give you an idea, here are a few words that have been added to my vocabulary from school and revelry respectively.

School: Ningyo- Mermaid
Party: Nohou - better than
School: Takeba- Stilts
Party: Tatoeba - Example
School: Amado- Wooden shutters used to protect a window from rain
Party: Nechigau- To sleep painfully
School: Tataku- to play the drums
Party: Madamada- Not yet

If my stay in Japan had been one big house warming party, I'd probably be fluent by now. Regrettably I'd probably also be dead.

Now! Back to staring at the ceiling!

A Thousand Words

I'm suffering from a bit of the old writers block today. Instead of a normal entry I'll let some photos to do the talking for me. In no particular order, here they are:

I found this fellow in a department store. He's an oven glove and not very happy about it.

These chewable lovelies aren't actually Japanese at all. They were in a snack shop at Copenhagen international airport and earned me a miffed look from the shopkeeper when I knelt down and snapped them. I thought about buying them but the airline food had made me queezy enough already....

One of Kenchōji's incredible Zen temples. Inside was an awe inspiring ceiling painting of a dragon but sadly we weren't allowed to take photos. A crying shame.

I met this fellow (that's right, fellow) in Akihabara. His girlfriend took the photo.

A reverent and respectful shot of the great Buddha at Kamakura.

You can't see the price from here but the melon in the center was fifty pounds, a hundred dollars or ten thousand yen. It looked just like any other melon to me, so it must have an amazing taste to merit that tag! Who would pay that?!

The Shibuya clothes shopping district: Where logic goes to die.

In Japan, fuzzy brows are a sign of masculinity. As you can see, this lil' Pikachu is a complete stud.

He was found outside a Sushi shop in Ikebukoro and the text reads "Today also, koikoi, something.. something... something....". Gee, I should probably hit the textbooks again.

Expect no less from Guildford!

...And that's all for today folks. I have a good few more pictures to post but I'm saving them for the next time I get 'blogger's block'.

Don't Sweat It

Sitting next to me on my desk is a large bottle of the pleasantly named 'Pocari Sweat', a sweet tasting 'ion supply drink'. Feeling the need for some ions, I just went down to the shop and bought it. Rather a lot of it, in fact. Pocari Sweat comes in two sizes- 'just about enough' and 'far too much'. The problem is that 'far too much' is only 25 pence more expensive than 'just about enough'. Not buying the larger one seemed quitea waste...

So now I'm faced with a difficult problem. There's more Pocari Sweat here than I can comfortably drink but if I don't finish the last gulp I wont get that feeling of satisfied completion. I've thought about decanting some of it into another bottle but I'd probably just end up with Ion drink all over the floor. I could put it in the fridge and try to forget it but I'm incredibly good at forgetting things and it would probably stay there for quite a long time.

It seems my only option is to keep drinking...

Moving on:

Today I visited 'Shibuya 109', a fashionable clothes shop. My relationship with fashion has never been a close one. I usually ignore it and it, for the most part, usually ignores me. However in Shibuya ignoring fashion is like ignoring a fire alarm (i.e. hard)- crazy hats, ripped jeans and three hundred pound shoes are the pulse of the district and the swanky clothes shops are it's very heart. 109 is one of the biggest so I took a peek to see where the Shibuyites get their threads.

109 is a huge department store made up of a lot of smaller shops, each with it's own kitsch and funky theme. The women's section spanned the first five floors and was absolutely monstrously diverse with everything from a shop that sold super duper baggy hats to a Hello Kitty clothes store. There was even one called 'Titty & Co'! In women's clothes shops I always feel slightly embarrassed, like I've missed the sign that said 'ladies' and wandered into the wrong toilet, so I hurried on up to '109 mens' on floor six.

While the women's sections were all bright and cheery, the men's section was very dark. Very dark because, of course, men... like... dark? It felt like I'd walked into a cross between the Bat Cave and Neo's wardrobe. The clothes were pretty wacky but the hairstyles were wackier. One member of staff had put so much gel in his long hair that he was taller than me even though my chin was level with his forehead.

The only thing larger than the selection was the price and I found a few fairly bog-standard T-Shirts going for over seventy pounds. I almost bought a sinister pair of boxer shorts which read 'Happy children lets have some fun' but, despite the novelty, thought fifteen pounds was a little too much.

Unlike with Karaoke, the Japanese have sadly failed to convince me that fashion is a worthwhile pursuit . To quote Oscar Wilde- 'Fashion is a form of ugliness so intolerable that we have to alter it every six months.'

Learn the words

The Japanese have invented a lot of things but among the most famous, as well as the most widely mispronounced, is Karaoke. Until today I'd never felt the need to sing Karaoke. I had a pretty good idea of what it would be like and didn't really want to join in thankyou very much. However, earlier this evening, four of my classmates dragged me into a Shibuya Karaoke bar and after a fair amount of yelling even persuaded me to sing with them. When in Rome, y'know?

I've always imagined Karaoke to just be several people in a room screaming to a backing track. My preconceptions were almost absolutely correct but differed in two important respects. A) There were maracas B) Several people in a room screaming to a backing track is actually quite fun.

My companions- A Koeran, A Chinese girl and two Thailanders chose a large selection of mostly boring J-Pop to sing to but when things got too dull I just started making interesting rhythms with the maracas or harmonizing in kooky ways on the second mic (something which went down quite well). The highlight was a fantastic rendition of an Avril Lavigne song by the Thailanders which, due to the fact it was in a Language they couldn't speak, was both dreadful and hilarious. They knew this and embraced it.

I've also gained a new respect for Eminem. For a joke I chose 'Lose Yourself' as my second song. By the end I was actually sweating! The song selection was quite impressive and they had plenty of tunes which I knew. I did a pretty darn good rendition of 'Smile' by Lily Allen, but sadly my mock cockney accent was lost on my Asian companions.

Is Karaoke something I'd do again soon? Probably not but I have lost my disrespect for the pastime. Really though, maracas make anything good!

(Amendment: It was actually a Karaoke 'box' and not a bar. This meant my chums and I got a room to ourselves. It also meant the Japanese didn't have to hear me sing 'All around the world', those lucky devils.)

Suprise Holiday

Today has been a quiet day because, as I found out late yesterday afternoon, April the 29th is a national holiday. To celebrate the birthday of an Emperor who died in 1989, the people who cook my food and teach me Japanese took the day off and left me in the lurch.  I didn't have anything planned and, not wanting to spent too much money (I've spent enough recently..), I had a quiet wander around Shakuji Koen.

That's not to say it's been an unpleasant day, far from it. Looking round the shops I saw all sorts of charming, odd and delightful products, some of which I'll detail for you. My first stop, just out of curiosity, was the  English learning section of a Japanese bookshop. Most of the items were your usual "Hello, how do you do, my name is Nakamura and I come from Yokohama" type language books, however I found one magazine which specialized in teaching expressions and sentences straight from films as well as some highly situational 'Adult English'. My favorites in the M rated category (which those of a fragile disposition should feel free to skip) were:

'Women keep coming onto me in strange ways!'
'Sorry,  but I'm looking for more of a physical relationship'
and the ever handy
'Do you want to make love before or after dinner?'

There were some other gems but, as my English is already pretty good, I didn't buy a copy so cannot remember them.

The next 'object of interest' that I found was in a shop called Passport. Passport is an odd place specializing in classy bags and children's toys. I wandered in by accident, thinking they might sell travel goods for Cambodia. They didn't but I wasn't disappointed for on one of the aisles was a section devoted to bath balls with small plastic suprises in the middle. You plonk them into your bath, the ball fizzles away and inside is a toy. The selection was enormous with plastic donuts, plastic ice creams, dinosaurs and sheep surprise bath bombs all available. The best of the bunch was one in the shape of a tenpura'd prawn. The prawn's tenpura shell fizzles away in the bath, revealing the prawn within. I haven't looked into postage prices yet, but I'm quite tempted to buy one for my little brother Cameron before I leave.

Among other highlights, I bought myself a "Carrot, Purple Carrot, Raspberry and Grape" drink in a health food shop, which was surprisingly tasty. I also saw a place called the 'Turn Thick Shot Bar'. I have no idea why it had that name but as usual I had to laugh and as usual I got a lot of mystified looks from passer by. Often I can see the logic behind these Engrish names. Shibuya's funky Triple Napalm Bomb hairdressers sounds striking, Black Man brand underwear is based on an trite stereotype and Calpis sounds a bit like calcium. Turn Thick though? Where is the sense?

I wonder if the Japanese in English tourist information booths is quite as bad...

Want to bet?

Gambling is a huge pastime in Japan. Real hardcore casino poker 'n' tequila gambling is outlawed but that doesn't stop anyone from giving away stacks upon stacks of their hard earned cash for that "might win" feeling. There are three main ways to get rid of your money- Betting shops (soccer, bikes and horses), Scratch/Lotto Cards and the startlingly noisy Pachinko.

The reason I mention them at all is that these places are everywhere. The exit to each station is crammed with busy scratchcard kiosks, lucky cat totems waving from the walls. Ikebukoro has too many to count and even a backwater like Shakuji Koen has three.

The betting shops are less prolific, probably only slightly more numerous than in England. They make up for that, though, with sheer volume of noise. When you walk into any shop in the UK the assistants will probably ignore you, more so if it's a betting place. The Japanese way of greeting customers is the complete opposite. Shop keepers will yell their hearts out if you so much as walk past the door. 'Irashyaimase, Irashyaimase, Irashyaimase' they bellow, trying so hard to welcome you that you feel guilty just for not entering or buying anything. Outside betting shops high pitched recorded messages yell out 'Irashyaimase' at deafening volumes. Long strings of squeaky Keigo peppered with a few exciting English phrases. 'Lucky!' 'Bigu Win!' 'Grando Prizu!'.

But loudest, most numerous and most popular of all betting places are the Pachinko, the terrifying slots of Japan. Nothing I can say will properly capture the atmosphere of these epilepsy inducing buildings. The noise they produce is beyond belief. Imagine the sound of a thousand children playing gameboys at full volume. Now imagine a hail storm of coins bouncing one a concrete road. Put those two sounds together, amplify the result a hundred times and it still wont be as shocking as the pachinko.

Rows upon rows of businessmen sit on the small cramped stools, shoveling token after token into the machines. Rows upon rows upon rows, all in identical black suits, not a woman among them. The Pachinko is, I guess, a form of escapism from the dull daily grind of the Japanese salary man. My own pet theory is that spending hours in a Pachinko makes everything else seem better. My other theory is that hell is one big pachinko, getting steadily more noisy and cramped as you head down towards the ninth level.

Seeing them all in their, cooped up, sweating and slaving away at the slots makes me want to liberate these poor Pachinko drones. I want to march in, throw the doors wide open and yell 'You can go, I have saved you, you are free!'.

And then I realize they are already.

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Trivia: As most forms of gambling are either illigal under Japanese Law or run directly by the government, the privately owned pachinko are not allowed to give money directly to their patrons. Instead you buy and win chips which, through a useful loophole, can be exchanged for prizes or cash at separately owned token redeeming shops. This is why, in the famous Pokemon Red and Blue (which I guess most people of my age will have played), prizes aren't collected in game corner itself, but in another building a few blocks away.

Kamakuradventure

Kamakura... wow!

So today I headed off bright and early (well... at 8:00) to Kamarkura, the town that preceded Kyoto as Japan's capital. It was, to put things mildly, brillaint!

The place exuded Japanese elegance from every pour. Every wooden roofed house, every exquisitely carved temple and every serene garden was brimming with style, beauty and grace. Prone to hyperbole as I am, I make no exaggeration when I say Kamakura is the prettiest place I've ever been. Good work Japan!

I owe most of this to the fantastic Koike Kei-san, my guide today and the hard-labored founder of www.j-os.com, an online school where I've been studying Japanese for the last year. (Kei-san, if you're reading this, dōmo once again!)

There's so much I could go into detail about, but I'll try to keep this entry structured and give you the highlights.

Tsurugaokahachimangu
鶴岡八幡宮

I'd challenge you all to say that nine times fast but I don't want you to do yourselves any injuries. Tsurugoakahachimangu is Kamakura's most famous Jinja. People come here to pray, get their fortunes told and even to get married. I was lucky enough to see a wedding in full swing- as we arrived a procession of delicately 'kimonoed' men and women trooped past in a line towards the central-court shrine. A monk from Tsurugaoka proceeded bless them as they took their vows, waving a ceremonial fan at them and taking them through the Japanese wedding ritual.

A quick climb up some stone steps took us to the main shrine where Kei showed me how to pray Shinto style. You face towards the shrine and toss in a five or ten yen coin, bow twice (making sure to bow with your full body, head included), clap twice and then make a wish with a final bow. In my typical 'gaijin' style I messed this up splenidly, somehow managing to clap three times and bowing with my body but not my head. The Shrine was so striking that to look away felt like doing it a disservice!

Outside hundreds of wooden blocks were tied to ornamental racks, each block with a wish written on it. Kei-san translated a few of them for me and the denizens of Kamakura, it turned out, had been wishing for everything from peace and prosperity to a win for their favorite baseball team.

Daibutsu: The Great Buddha
大仏

He was big! He was Buddha! What more can I say?

I'm sure many of you have seen the picture of this giant bronze Buddha statue, located at the Kōtoku-in temple. On Japanese guidebooks he often features prominently, his giant eyes tight shut, deep in content meditation. The temple in which he once sat has been washed away by a sixteenth century tsunami and years of weathering have turned his bronze a copper oxide blue, but nothing can disturb this 93 tonne giant.

He has meditated here since 1252bc and will continue to do so long after you and I have shuffled off this mortal coil and joined the great party in the sky.


Lunch
昼ごはん

At 12 we headed out into the suburbs and lunched in a small Sushi restaraunt about twenty minutes walk from the sea. Kei had sashimi and I had a Kamakuran specialty the name of which I can't remember. Hundreds of tiny tiny raw fish stared up at me from a bed of rice and I must confess the staring eyes of a thousand tiny eyes almost put me off eating it- the first few mouthfuls filled with guilt. The taste, however, was superb and I soon forgot the fishy gaze and wolfed them by the mouthful.

Kei-san generously served me three pieces of his sashimi which was the freshest and tastiest I've had anywhere. For those of you not brave enough to give sashimi a try, you don't know what you're missing it out on. It beats fish and chips hands down!

Kenchōji
建長寺

After an iced coffee in a comfy Starbucks (the nicest Starbucks I've seen) we trotted off to Kenchouji, a Zen temple and the final and biggest of the day. It was of course superb, with an impressively huge ceiling painting of a dragon and a tranquil Zen garden where we sat for half an hour and listened to the birds sing their little hearts out.

Our visit to Kenchōji sadly concluded we quietly walked to the station, my mind digesting everything I'd seen as we went.

Kei-san, ありがとうございます for a truly wonderful day. Tonight I think I shall sleep well!

Clueless

For those of you who haven't heard the news, Humphery Lyttelton, 'humorist' and famous trumpeter, died yesterday at the age of 86. On hearing news of a celebrity death my normal reaction is "ahh... unfortunate" but for Humph I sniffled quietly in a corner for a few minutes. You could say that at 86 he'd had a good inings, but I maintain that it was far too young for one such as the Lyttelton. Why is it that people have to die?

I'm sorry, I'm afraid I haven't a clue.

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I trooped out to Tokyo today and had a look at the West Imperial Palace Gardens, a nearby science museum (on the advice of Tom and Joel) and the bottom of the Tokyo Tower.

The gardens were truly very present. The wooden shrines, bushes filled with bright coloured flowers, oriental statues and ancient stone walls seemed oddly juxtaposed against the gleaming skyscrapers on the horizon. I'm fond of juxtaposition between the old and new and nowhere does it quite as well as Japan.

As I was eating a banana on a bench marking the spot where the imperial samurai used to train, two pleasant Japanese buisiness men approaced me and we had a nice conversation about London. The first question anyone will ask you when they find you're from England is "do you live in London" followed by "ahh, so how far away from London do you live?". Two questions that I've become very practiced at answering.

Once I'd had my fill of elegant horticulture I headed off on a mission, first to find somewhere to dispose of my banana skin and then to locate the science museum. Considering how startlingly clean Tokyo is, bins are in very short supply and after a long search I had to enter a big gray building to get rid of my peel. Wondering how far away the science museum was and if I'd get there before it shut, I looked up to at the clock on the wall and saw that it was right next to a large sign saying "Welcome to the Science Museum". Spooked, I payed my 600 yen entry fee and wandered in.

The Museum was a lot of fun, though would have been better if I'd had company. Everywhere things went whoosh and pop, though there were no English captions and while my Japanese is good enough to explain that I live 2 hours away from London by train, it falters somewhat when faced with technical explanations of the science behind the Aurora Borealis.

The exhibit which stuck in my mind the most was a scarily lifelike female robot who you could supposedly talk too. She reacted well to my "Konnichiwa", but to my other questions (Are you well? Who made you? How far away from London do you live) just stared blankly and eventually told me to go away and let someone else have a turn. I was quite hurt!

Tokyo Tower, Japan's answer to le Tour Eiffel looked good from the outside, but a little kitsch within. I didn't have the time to take the expensive elevator to the top viewing deck, but had a snoop around the shops on the bottom floor and met the tower's mascot. The poor guy is the same shape as the Tokyo's famous erection but strangely pink. Goodness knows why he smiled so much, he must have been bullied something dreadful at School.

Tomorrow I rise early as I've been invited to see Kamakura with Koike Kei-san, the man who owns and runs my online Japanese school. I may get back too late to write anything, but if I have time expect tales of temples, shrines and 800 year old giant Buddhas.

The journey takes over an hour and a half, so wish me luck finding a seat on the train!