Diary Entry #2

July 15^th

Saturday in Tottori! A short walk around the town and an even shorter climb up the local mountain (Mt. Kyusho) was about the extent of our physical exertions in the hot humid climate that is Japan in summer. We strolled the gardens of the JINPUKAKU, a Victorian era house built entirely out of cedar and costing nearly the same amount for its construction as the entire yearly budget of the town of Tottori. This beautiful mansion was built during the height of Japan’s obsession with modernism and the west and it is a strange contrast to wander barefoot (yes, even here!) through a Victorian house with a views of a Japanese garden.

Sir S and I then marvelled at the bizarre creatures ensconced within the Tottori Prefectural Museum, among which were pickled giant newts that looked like they call swallow babies whole, preserved giant squid, and the full assortment of stuffed local wildlife including the Tanaki, a small beast that resembles a raccoon.

Now all of this culture was enough to give a man a thirst, so we headed back to the hotel to refresh before meeting two more locals – Kana and Hiroko – for Izakaya. It just so happened that our Tottori stay coincided with a summer festival and we managed to witness some local J-rock bands performing their hearts out near the station. Their fans were quite amusing. Where one would expect the front row to start a mosh pit, these groupies had a set pattern of hand movements that they all performed in unison. More surprising was that at some point during one of their songs, the crowd suddenly started waving their fans at the band, to great effect.

Most amusing.

What I would like to say about Japan is that they don’t let archaic ideas of machismo get in the way of sensibilities. It is perfectly acceptable for a gentleman to have a fold out fan for alleviating the stifling heat or carrying a small towel for the dabbing of one’s beaded brow. I look forward to the day when western cultures give up on the useless concept of ‘being manly’ over comfort.

But I digress! This is the part of the tale where I enjoy my first (lets just say first three) martinis of my Japanese trip. We took a few rickety stairs up to an unimposing bar called the ODEON. What we discovered upon entering was a delightful room of circular tables, each provided with its own privacy via curtains that surrounded each table. A small button on each table summoned a waiter who quickly and efficiently took our orders and returned promptly with our food/drinks. The food was delicious and the martinis were quite acceptable (and to my pleasure, served in smaller glasses which is more in keeping with the traditional measure of the martini) although lacking any olives.

Diary entry #1

July 14^th

After the dismal tourism failure that was Osaka, I packed my small house onto my back and boarded the express train for Tottori. My spirits (to quote the honourable Mr. Bowie) were at an all time low, my shoulders were aching and my feet blistered (who ever said you didn’t need to break in thongs?). But lo! As soon as the train pulled away from the hulking, grey-concrete monoliths that passed for architecture in Osaka and slipped through the wild forested hills inland my heart lifted. The landscape was dynamic, green and verdant. There are hills everywhere, the train passing through innumerable tunnels to emerge into valleys dotted with quaint houses and ordered rice paddies. The train quite often crossed many swollen rivers as it dashed inland and the wispy low-clouds that sporadically showered the bamboo and cedared hills with light rain made me feel glad to be in Japan. This is the country that I came to see, not the stinking dirty city.

Sir S met me at Tottori station and quickly debriefed me on the situation. We would spend a few days orientating me to the Japanese countryside with several planned meeting with natives willing to give us the insights needed for our big push on the capital in a week and a half’s time.

It sounded superb.

We caught a local train to Sir S’ dormitory in the University town of Koyama (two stops from Tottori) where we stored my over sized bags. A pleasant afternoon bike ride drove home the pleasant simplicity of Japanese country life (I should note here that I have heard Tottori described by locals as one of the most boring towns in Japan). The country is well designed for cycling, with most of the settled areas being flat, making the lack of gears on the bicycle totally irrelevant. Our afternoon of cycle was one of those rare Studio Ghibli moments (My Neighbour Totoro) and was possibly the highlight of the trip.

Heading back to Tottori we booked into the local Super Hotel (I highly recommend this chain to anyone visiting Japan – it is a little tricky to book as reservations are made online and in Japanese but they are clean, cheap and include breakfast) and meet two locals – Hiroki and a new friend Yuki for Izakaya (think Tapas, but Japanese).

A Testing Day

Having a hangover (thank you Brett for reminding me why I don`t usually follow a few beers with a few glasses of wine) does not make one very well equiped to deal with the rigors of 14 hrs of flight, two airports, an 11pm hostel curfew, 28 degrees and humid or trying to lug a suitcase weighing 32kg, a backpack weighing 20kg, a laptop that is a desktop in disguise and a 10kg cabin bag around three train stations that do not have lifts.

Needless to say - after starting out at 5:30 am and arriving at 11:45 pm I was very sweaty, tired and highly irritable. The fact that I made it into a hostel room at all was due to the assistance of a lovely Japanese woman at Osaka who assisted me in the ticket and platform location process and my sweet talking the Hostel worker through the intercom 45 min after curfew. Bless them all.

Osaka is very interesting. Unlike Tokyo people do stare at foreigners and I only saw 2 other caucasians during my nightmare ride from Kansai airport to the Hostel in Osaka. The people are still very nice though, and I had no problems getting accurate directions from people - unlike the many instances in China with Sir S where the response was either alot of chin stroking and then directing in the wrong direction or to run away screaming (quite alarming I can tell you).

Another interesting observation I made, which is something that is not seen in European cities (or Australian for that matter) is that there was still a good number of people rushing around the trains (of all ages and sexes) at 11:30 pm on a Tuesday night. Not as many as in peak hour I wager but still a testament to the old traditions of long working hours (or at least spending alot of time away from home socialising with your boss or work colleagues)

Anyway - a short basin wash and a stumble around the dorm later (the lights were off - I can only thank divine providence that I found a spare bed in the pitch darkness) I was asleep, eagerly awaiting 6 am when the bathrooms reopened so that I could expunge the filth from my body (but unfortunately not my mind - that grime is firmly entrenched).

So today I shall attempt to buy a decent coffee and possibly do a small amount of sightseeing - possibly take in the local ambience and read a few more pages of Rik Mayall`s biography: Bigger than Hitler, Better than Jesus.

Oh - I might also attempt to find a computer with a back slash key that I can make work so that I can check my email.

So, ja mata as the say.

The Departure

This morning I leave for Japan.
If there is one thing that one should remember as they travel through life is that drinking with one's brother the night before departure does not lend itself to a happy trip.