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.