tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67797846507787955142023-11-16T23:24:36.548+10:00Terangeree's TravelsThe journeys of a train-driving journalist.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger17125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6779784650778795514.post-49124207010329485942014-01-05T23:22:00.002+10:002014-01-05T23:22:37.610+10:00鞆の浦<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuyoQQeN0Hfv5Krhi8cuJzuDdRMpbQM63xJXKvSP-YwqQQfeC5OSxSK82mHaK3k6qHaJ-oc1mLBiIH3EgqWjrUI8DabQNRZgcmw9gSPaq1khLHVz5d0vOasAEkugu2uy6dz3ZZ-WLFKq8/s1600/IMG_0650.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuyoQQeN0Hfv5Krhi8cuJzuDdRMpbQM63xJXKvSP-YwqQQfeC5OSxSK82mHaK3k6qHaJ-oc1mLBiIH3EgqWjrUI8DabQNRZgcmw9gSPaq1khLHVz5d0vOasAEkugu2uy6dz3ZZ-WLFKq8/s320/IMG_0650.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The lighthouse at Tomonoura.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
If you've seen the animated feature film <i>Ponyo on the Cliff by the Sea</i>, then you'll be vaguely familiar with Tomonoura.<br />
<br />
For it is a slightly-modified animated version of Tomonura that appears in the movie.<br />
<br />
Situated midway along the Seto Inland Sea, Tomonoura was a major port in the Edo era (pre-1868), as it was as far as a sail-powered ship would get on its east-west (or west-east) voyage before losing the help of the tide.<br />
<br />
So Tomo was where ships would berth to wait for the tide to change before continuing their journey.<br />
<br />
And, in an era when Japan was shut off from the rest of the world (even shipwrecked foreign mariners were summarily executed), Tomonoura was one of Japan's few ports that were conditionally open to outsiders.<br />
<br />
It was a "diplomatic" port, where envoys from China and Korea would stay<i> </i>when travelling to Edo (Tokyo).<br />
<br />
But with the advent of steamships, Tomo was no longer a necessary port and it was bypassed for the neighbouring railway-accessible cities of Fukuyama (of which Tomo is now an outlying suburb) and Onomichi.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJHQtpkyzh3R9z0ITzwTwYXHQvzCwtFwnKl_3NNVWThtKF3IZ1rnMLypNv-986onB2R0cPpxKd-tECUXmzOODEET2YBo6nE7zrkm2RC2MFG38T66Kq-_z3yhMoETDCO1oonP9rENIH2gE/s1600/IMG_0691.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJHQtpkyzh3R9z0ITzwTwYXHQvzCwtFwnKl_3NNVWThtKF3IZ1rnMLypNv-986onB2R0cPpxKd-tECUXmzOODEET2YBo6nE7zrkm2RC2MFG38T66Kq-_z3yhMoETDCO1oonP9rENIH2gE/s320/IMG_0691.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tomo-no-Ura's harbour.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
So progress has largely bypassed Tomo over the last 150 years, leaving its horseshoe-shaped harbour as the only surviving example of a "traditional" Edo-era Japanese port.<br />
<br />
Today, Tomonoura's harbour is a fishing port, with the fleet mooring largely on the eastern edge of the harbour to divest their catch into a small industrial complex that feels to itself be half as old as time and, apparently, the "home-away-from-home" for many of the town's local cats in quest of an easy meal.<br />
<br />
And Tomonoura is, I happily discovered, the home of <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BFRKZBfOSR8" target="_blank">Homeishu </a>-- which, I'm told by someone near to me, was first brewed in the building where I first met my wife.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP_9OVtIwAhlRdCLGIeqmkNLg-kZKhlGkTNMowERvnbfcMifwmCQ78MAMnBhrTgGir8okWy95ZG0tbbI4aUxgP-idVgcPVu9v6Serbv71XtElI2A8XQhvEdxWJg19xANZIuTgMFsPx_MI/s1600/IMG_0503.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP_9OVtIwAhlRdCLGIeqmkNLg-kZKhlGkTNMowERvnbfcMifwmCQ78MAMnBhrTgGir8okWy95ZG0tbbI4aUxgP-idVgcPVu9v6Serbv71XtElI2A8XQhvEdxWJg19xANZIuTgMFsPx_MI/s320/IMG_0503.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ota House.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Ota House is a former sake brewery/storehouse/retail shop in the middle of Tomonoura, right behind the harbour's central jetty.<br />
<br />
The building is listed as an Important National Cultural Site, and is stilled owned by the Ota family, which began brewing homeishu in the early Edo period.<br />
<br />
Ota House dates back 260 years, and its attendant complex was built over a few decades, with its newest buildings being storehouses built in the late 1780s.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6779784650778795514.post-38479678976973869152011-12-24T12:43:00.002+10:002011-12-24T12:50:32.791+10:00The Island of Rabbits<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil_xXKr7FrxybjxZ7t7WghVvDdY6UHmxgEFyxK-NkH3Fj5lXNMvfnRHjqiQxXM5vOqSAWxFuPY6xMTxLPJJF5tmOfTyDMoUQk6LmdfkooHFolBR0FSxgSXg63i7uR3KUVDvPhzDDeSom4/s1600/P7282550.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS8HogvYZ1SbCaqRNigaC5CotDO_CaRQULayzK4bPk8bZMh6SidHltE9xBATwJ2DjBYSE0MtDSEgQAACMtNkIWjGvCqnDVwAn6sPaQ2yhvqCVUlhqbc3s3FYq3wk96wxGXJUEIYipzIFo/s1600/P7282575.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS8HogvYZ1SbCaqRNigaC5CotDO_CaRQULayzK4bPk8bZMh6SidHltE9xBATwJ2DjBYSE0MtDSEgQAACMtNkIWjGvCqnDVwAn6sPaQ2yhvqCVUlhqbc3s3FYq3wk96wxGXJUEIYipzIFo/s1600/P7282575.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS8HogvYZ1SbCaqRNigaC5CotDO_CaRQULayzK4bPk8bZMh6SidHltE9xBATwJ2DjBYSE0MtDSEgQAACMtNkIWjGvCqnDVwAn6sPaQ2yhvqCVUlhqbc3s3FYq3wk96wxGXJUEIYipzIFo/s1600/P7282575.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS8HogvYZ1SbCaqRNigaC5CotDO_CaRQULayzK4bPk8bZMh6SidHltE9xBATwJ2DjBYSE0MtDSEgQAACMtNkIWjGvCqnDVwAn6sPaQ2yhvqCVUlhqbc3s3FYq3wk96wxGXJUEIYipzIFo/s320/P7282575.JPG" width="320" /> </a><br />
"Would you like to come with us to Rabbit Island?" asked the Girl of Enduring Beauty.<br />
<br />
And so began my visit to <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/%C5%8Ckunoshima" target="_blank">Okunoshima</a>, a tiny island in Japan's Inland Sea, with the Girl of Enduring Beauty and her children.<br />
<br />
Okunoshima was once a top-secret military site -- so secret that it was removed from the maps -- where poison gas was made in the 1930s and 1940s.<br />
<br />
It isn't, one would think, the sort of place to go for a day-trip with children.<br />
<br />
But that was before the rabbits took over.<br />
<br />
In 1946, Allied occupation troops destroyed Okunoshima's poison gas factory and released the island's surviving laboratory rabbits into the wild.<br />
<br />
Those rabbits did what rabbits do, and today Okunoshima is home to thousands of flop-eared rodents, earning it the nickname <i>Usagi Shima</i> (Rabbit Island). <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1nZilgZT1yENGQwJXWpn9M2ujSLgQzvgdLB_PLnmO1bb1Ly46mKmEb2EX9yw5fPuxgFtu4pJ6ylERZXp26klkkqNZngJ1MxO7o7YgMJxHmthrqZ3XGH0xhBmxox7inmbjN1M3ERLtCZ0/s1600/P7282567_3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1nZilgZT1yENGQwJXWpn9M2ujSLgQzvgdLB_PLnmO1bb1Ly46mKmEb2EX9yw5fPuxgFtu4pJ6ylERZXp26klkkqNZngJ1MxO7o7YgMJxHmthrqZ3XGH0xhBmxox7inmbjN1M3ERLtCZ0/s320/P7282567_3.jpg" width="320" /></a>We hired bicycles from the island's hotel and explored the island, stopping to play on a small beach where the only footprints were our own.<br />
<br />
Nearby, behind a tall earth bank, stood the grim, ivy-covered ruins of the island's power station -- used to produce electricity for the gas factory.<br />
<br />
But the Girl of Enduring Beauty and her children -- like many pet-less Japanese -- are cravers of all things cute, so the big attraction for them was the rabbits.<br />
<br />
And although the rabbits are wild, they're used to humans and will approach you in numbers for a free feed.<br />
<br />
Visitors are allowed to pet, handle, and tire themselves out chasing the rabbits.<br />
<br />
Okunoshima is a National Park, where dogs, cats and <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xOrgLj9lOwk" target="_blank">Holy Hand Grenades of Antioch</a> are strictly prohibited.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil_xXKr7FrxybjxZ7t7WghVvDdY6UHmxgEFyxK-NkH3Fj5lXNMvfnRHjqiQxXM5vOqSAWxFuPY6xMTxLPJJF5tmOfTyDMoUQk6LmdfkooHFolBR0FSxgSXg63i7uR3KUVDvPhzDDeSom4/s1600/P7282550.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6779784650778795514.post-15947415681079522942011-03-03T11:36:00.004+10:002011-03-03T12:41:38.279+10:00First Snow"It is snowing."<br />
<br />
I had flown north to see her for Valentine's Day, and had got to Fukuyama late the night before.<br />
<br />
So I slept late, and was woken at 8.28 by the beloved sending me a text message telling me what the day's weather was like.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpAn8bItfPkPBejvilrg-jQYaxtT0hs0nuuOKiHDtv8aRhufffshm9E3er3aMBB73iT9n0XM9VPEsD7jqAT8CVfxLUPc32oIFktES6_HNHivs74hP7OZGgWEJKGkRaaL5-y83lXrKnbsg/s1600/IMG_0557.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpAn8bItfPkPBejvilrg-jQYaxtT0hs0nuuOKiHDtv8aRhufffshm9E3er3aMBB73iT9n0XM9VPEsD7jqAT8CVfxLUPc32oIFktES6_HNHivs74hP7OZGgWEJKGkRaaL5-y83lXrKnbsg/s200/IMG_0557.jpg" width="134" /></a>And so it was that, half-way through my 46th year, my first direct experience of snow was through the window of my business hotel in central Fukuyama.<br />
<br />
For me, it was all new and magnificent, and I wanted to spend as much time as possible in the brisk, chill air.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmM-GIvzeZvR5itldShpS3AAJL3FHciJ8zylCE4DeKv7qAZH81evdXeJje3_LMbCXVXw98EPSvA-e3FjHHy5RVPwC4Ep0_xc7owhjvkU1Ldt7pVnpzQOZYeYnr3bPiXMynIjC03pJu_bI/s1600/IMG_0560.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmM-GIvzeZvR5itldShpS3AAJL3FHciJ8zylCE4DeKv7qAZH81evdXeJje3_LMbCXVXw98EPSvA-e3FjHHy5RVPwC4Ep0_xc7owhjvkU1Ldt7pVnpzQOZYeYnr3bPiXMynIjC03pJu_bI/s200/IMG_0560.JPG" width="200" /></a> For the beloved, it was all familiar and cold, and she wanted to spend as much time as possible in the warmth and air conditioning of a Fukuyama shopping centre.<br />
<br />
I had just travelled 7700km to be with the beloved. I didn't want to go to a shopping centre.<br />
<br />
I wanted to drive to Onomichi.<br />
<br />
"My car does not have snow tyres, the roads are dangerous, and you're not used to driving through snow" she said.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEm_aQPvnlAHNvFkggynCltYfgBJNAbUTFrGmrhRh-yNQ39KZHMjob4Th0qipM_77ieLEBtC4W1Vfq3GVeJ9AyjOTZ5v5voG6Od6gId1Kt4K0KeM3Z4BhYTx0ema2dSc37G9SRVQvnweg/s1600/IMG_0564.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEm_aQPvnlAHNvFkggynCltYfgBJNAbUTFrGmrhRh-yNQ39KZHMjob4Th0qipM_77ieLEBtC4W1Vfq3GVeJ9AyjOTZ5v5voG6Od6gId1Kt4K0KeM3Z4BhYTx0ema2dSc37G9SRVQvnweg/s200/IMG_0564.JPG" width="200" /></a><br />
So we went to the shopping centre.<br />
<br />
The next day wasn't snowing, but Monday's snow was still thick on the ground in the hills behind Fukuyama. I felt like we'd just driven into Fifth Heaven, but the beloved started to wonder about my sanity when I asked her if "we" could make a snowman.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg8P2GwhVMGLD320UupCKeiF-TRnLYGSnb4aDFcsQFCjkAlRHdaB6-C1D7qVpKQ0ebziESSgyb4zqw9sOTrx4xVt9x-4hL9cJC92NqKFVIyJlp_9wKMt4yf6WJIuyuxc55F1qCB0Zmfmc/s1600/Photo-0005%25233.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg8P2GwhVMGLD320UupCKeiF-TRnLYGSnb4aDFcsQFCjkAlRHdaB6-C1D7qVpKQ0ebziESSgyb4zqw9sOTrx4xVt9x-4hL9cJC92NqKFVIyJlp_9wKMt4yf6WJIuyuxc55F1qCB0Zmfmc/s200/Photo-0005%25233.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>"We should have done this yesterday, when the snow was fresh," she said as I let her make the small (45cm tall) snowman in the carpark at the <a href="http://www.mirokunosato.com/">Miroku no Sato</a> amusement park.<br />
<br />
She gave him two twigs for arms, fallen leaves for eyes and a mouth, and a fern frond for a 'necktie'.<br />
<br />
He looked really cute.<br />
<br />
We went to visit him the next day, but he wasn't so cute 24 hours later.<br />
<br />
He had started to melt. He had fallen over, and had lost his arms, eyes, mouth, and necktie.<br />
<br />
For a snowman, life may not be nasty and brutish -- but it certainly is "short".Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6779784650778795514.post-16245411920299169022010-09-29T23:24:00.000+10:002010-09-29T23:24:57.158+10:00Two weeks in July<i>July 16 2010</i><br />
<br />
Dawn in Brisbane feels bitterly cold in midwinter, and the security delays for international flights in the modern paranoid era means that a mid-morning flight requires a pre-dawn departure from the house.<br />
<br />
So it was that I was rugged-up for winter when I boarded the JAL Boeing for a nine-hour flight to Tokyo.<br />
<br />
This proved to be a mistake, for we arrived just on sunset in the mid-summer, and the outside temperature was over 30 degrees Celsius.<br />
<br />
At midnight.<br />
<br />
Hotter in the daytime at Narita.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6779784650778795514.post-52204733870689977942010-07-09T20:11:00.000+10:002010-07-09T20:11:45.811+10:00Rapi:t.<object style="background-image:url(http://i2.ytimg.com/vi/1XyHghoWwBE/hqdefault.jpg)" width="480" height="295"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/1XyHghoWwBE&hl=en_GB&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/1XyHghoWwBE&hl=en_GB&fs=1" width="480" height="295" allowScriptAccess="never" allowFullScreen="true" wmode="transparent" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"></embed></object>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6779784650778795514.post-84808919541344783542010-07-09T20:01:00.000+10:002010-07-09T20:01:56.041+10:00Osaka Music<object style="background-image:url(http://i2.ytimg.com/vi/EXKmOxtiJJs/hqdefault.jpg)" width="480" height="295"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/EXKmOxtiJJs&hl=en_GB&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/EXKmOxtiJJs&hl=en_GB&fs=1" width="480" height="295" allowScriptAccess="never" allowFullScreen="true" wmode="transparent" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"></embed></object>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6779784650778795514.post-55107821064576297322009-07-06T18:44:00.008+10:002009-07-09T20:20:24.578+10:00A personal rock concert<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMsjrqjEduF3NIZfU3JCNI0ekUA0hsTLt1ngWnXQngHoNMrzgv_86b8gAJpWtuKzb0sYZKBi411nnh7y3TYjt1YZIed_XE6TNONwuo1HHaOqQE4ycuSyGRhuQw_T-IeGACFUGgoi2fmWY/s1600-h/IMG_0122.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 621px; height: 414px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMsjrqjEduF3NIZfU3JCNI0ekUA0hsTLt1ngWnXQngHoNMrzgv_86b8gAJpWtuKzb0sYZKBi411nnh7y3TYjt1YZIed_XE6TNONwuo1HHaOqQE4ycuSyGRhuQw_T-IeGACFUGgoi2fmWY/s400/IMG_0122.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355271947455801554" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9qpjh-r-743EftLkJfx16Yjdu0P9xCgCSwmcUefJM7VU-TVCi_cjzx-_W-7UJoNoDPAG-IaPQzMqeER_YOKSbNaIUiX-UKXewf8z1EAQQs1_togczMLug08eBce264TgIJhTMtqCrRCE/s1600-h/IMG_0121.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9qpjh-r-743EftLkJfx16Yjdu0P9xCgCSwmcUefJM7VU-TVCi_cjzx-_W-7UJoNoDPAG-IaPQzMqeER_YOKSbNaIUiX-UKXewf8z1EAQQs1_togczMLug08eBce264TgIJhTMtqCrRCE/s320/IMG_0121.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355267904556049586" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Nagoya's Kanayama Station</span> is <span style="font-style: italic;">not</span> the station to catch the Shinkansen from: you need to go to Nagoya Station for that.<br /><br />And that's where I was headed, but accidently got off the train from Chiryu one station too early, at Kanayama.<br /><br />Beside Kanayama Station is the Boston Museum of Fine Arts. In the distance one can see the neon sign advertising a love hotel called the "Hotel California", and the station's forecourt on a Sunday is a place for music.<br /><br />Rock bands, formed by high school students, gather in the forecourt of Kanayama with their electric guitars, electric keyboards, microphones, amplifiers and portable generators to serenade the passing crowds, sell their self-produced CDs and hopefully get discovered and become famous.<br /><br />Beside the stairs leading down to an underpass, two lads were jamming quietly, and as I thought they sounded pretty good and their CD only cost 1500Y (about $12), I decided to buy a copy.<br /><br />The entire <a href="http://utauzemichiko.net/">band</a>, <span style="font-style: italic;">and </span>their roadie (which was Mum) came up to the collapsible table to thank me personally, then the two who were jammig picked up their guitars and started playing seriously.<br /><br />Just for me.<br /><br />One reason for my trip was to see <a href="http://www.kei-office.net">Keiko Masuda</a> in concert in Tokyo: a concert I didn't see because it had been sold out before I had a chance to get a ticket.<br /><br />But my consolation was my own personal concert in the heat of a Nagoya railway forecourt in the midsummer.<br /><br />Just around the corner were two other young <a href="http://page.18ch.net/?id=krfrpop">hopefuls</a> with a drum kit, an electronic keyboard, a portable gennie and a selection of original and catchy tunes.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTnE4ZJP6hdAlNbHCJpqsN_YuNKaTrkmd_U4FYtmR2WPBrfOnyVYxT6T_PcIop2jhkNFF-blemMXJxnF741qIT4KL3bI6_MlZv9fXawyKDwlDW9lX_DlVx1fSasKOFGplN3XWv5hqzsD4/s1600-h/IMG_0123.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTnE4ZJP6hdAlNbHCJpqsN_YuNKaTrkmd_U4FYtmR2WPBrfOnyVYxT6T_PcIop2jhkNFF-blemMXJxnF741qIT4KL3bI6_MlZv9fXawyKDwlDW9lX_DlVx1fSasKOFGplN3XWv5hqzsD4/s320/IMG_0123.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355269921119037746" border="0" /></a><br />I believe I must probably be the only person in Brisbane -- maybe even the only person in Australia -- with a <span style="font-weight: bold;">Kara Furu Pop</span> CD in their collection.<br /><br />Although they play different varieties of J-pop from one another, both groups deserve to go quite a bit further in the Japanese music industry than the forecourt of the Kanayama JR Station.<br /><br /><br /><br />And no, I didn't stay at the Hotel California. Although I've heard it's a lovely place, I was a bit worried that I'd never leave...Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6779784650778795514.post-68197192157495171002009-07-03T23:34:00.003+10:002009-07-03T23:43:52.528+10:00Okayama's Highly Trained Terrier Squad<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAPZvIf_Bo-A40ct3fho93CHlsdTSPuesz_Se5yU4xvTRjD8oVvBGfseCTHxM8kgvZ9DW1XNYl4oE0Z7iKSuCOcKSV_sLuD_IU1kdcCwGuwmWm-pauD9Cw22pycATTJrGrL6MK4w30LNU/s1600-h/IMG_0774.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAPZvIf_Bo-A40ct3fho93CHlsdTSPuesz_Se5yU4xvTRjD8oVvBGfseCTHxM8kgvZ9DW1XNYl4oE0Z7iKSuCOcKSV_sLuD_IU1kdcCwGuwmWm-pauD9Cw22pycATTJrGrL6MK4w30LNU/s320/IMG_0774.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354227435368997490" border="0" /></a><br />The picture says it all, really.<br /><br />An interesting thing about Japan is how <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">all</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span>warning signs are decorated with cute little cartoons.<br /><br />This one, I think, <span style="font-style: italic;">really</span> says that you shouldn't litter and if the dog you're walking feels nature's call, then please clean up after Fido.<br /><br />But, to me, the cartoon says that the city of Okayama retains a squad of highly-trained Yorkshire Terriers equipped with plastic bags and little shovels to clean up any litter which visitors may leave behind.<br /><br />Certainly beats the Wombles...Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6779784650778795514.post-49434434410686154652009-07-02T14:21:00.006+10:002009-07-02T15:01:16.244+10:00Ukai<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFzzcFFrMnAcnR40OzYD14DkXx-olGwef5MOPUQtxpP0i1GajE1hx8bd2SrIWXblKTikJooQhwn_PSTqztLGNgI6Lzb_DzYhjKwVJwHgvK4H7RtY39v3wIgwIolX4NRxWgI6dBoYAfElQ/s1600-h/IMG_0371.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFzzcFFrMnAcnR40OzYD14DkXx-olGwef5MOPUQtxpP0i1GajE1hx8bd2SrIWXblKTikJooQhwn_PSTqztLGNgI6Lzb_DzYhjKwVJwHgvK4H7RtY39v3wIgwIolX4NRxWgI6dBoYAfElQ/s320/IMG_0371.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353722148020030434" border="0" /></a><br />With a blazing bonfire hanging from its stern, the long and narrow fishing boat glides past us with five lines cast over the side nearest to our boat.<br /><br />They’re fishing lines – after a fashion – that are neither baited nor hooked. At the end of each line, flapping and diving into the Uji River, is a live cormorant.<br />For it is summer in Japan’s Kansai region: the season of the Ukai Matsuri, or the Festival of Cormorant Fishing.<br /><br />The Japanese used birds for fishing for around 1000 years. Called “Ukai”, it is done with cormorants on leads attached to a necklet that constricts the bird’s gullet and keeps it from swallowing the larger fish it catches.<br /><br />These larger fish are removed from the bird’s throat by the fisher, who then throws the bird overboard to catch its next fish.<br /><br />Ukai isn’t a commercial fishing practice today. Instead, it is done to entertain the tourists and sightseers during the summer months and the Ukai Matsuri.<br />This festival takes place in many parts of Kansai, and, as I’m travelling between Kyoto and Nara, I decide to stop half-way, in the city of Uji.<br /><br />For in Uji, they cast their cormorants upon the waters every night for almost all of summer, from mid June through to late September, just upstream from a bridge that has its very own goddess and in a river that has an important place in Japan’s literature.<br /><br />But more about that later...Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6779784650778795514.post-26652481693151238292009-07-01T13:49:00.004+10:002009-07-04T00:01:27.646+10:00The One After 9-0-9...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4dVN_PuorX62a38rhdGGcJfiLxyjR1AWrfhbmeKQfxMWvbEdJc1Qn3iF81yYJs-SeuKveADLlXKnKKkD8pvleoiRJGJTFC6HfDXUpBBjJVRp6mCI9IvAjvVauBevfXCB8VnFOqvrKaBs/s1600-h/IMG_0666.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4dVN_PuorX62a38rhdGGcJfiLxyjR1AWrfhbmeKQfxMWvbEdJc1Qn3iF81yYJs-SeuKveADLlXKnKKkD8pvleoiRJGJTFC6HfDXUpBBjJVRp6mCI9IvAjvVauBevfXCB8VnFOqvrKaBs/s320/IMG_0666.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354230432337198066" border="0" /></a><br />... is 8-0-3.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br /><br />My baby said she's travellin' on the One After 9-0-9<br />I said "move over honey, I'm travellin' on that line."<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></span>For my first two nights in Kyoto, I stayed in Room 909 -- a number reminiscent of an old Beatles' song.<br /><br />Single room. View over the air conditioning units. 7,000JPY per night (about 90 Australian dollars). When in bed, my feet touched one wall and my head touched the opposite wall.<br /><br />On the third day, I planned to stay in the town of Uji and see the <span style="font-style: italic;">Ukai</span> (cormorant fishing) that starts at 6pm every night.<br /><br />But my trip to Okayama and back took too long, so I had to hopefully ask at the Kyoto Tower Hotel if they had a room available for me for a third night.<br /><br />They did.<br /><br />Room 8-0-3.<br /><br />Still with a panoramic view of the air conditioning units, but the bed this time was aligned along the room's longer axis, so at least I didn't get that Edgar Allan Poe feeling of a shrinking bedroom.<br /><br />Not that I spent much time in the room. Kyoto, you see, has got all these magic little neighbourhood bars where you can sit drinking and talking until sunrise with the most extraordinary of people...<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6779784650778795514.post-55633584406666918512009-07-01T12:58:00.003+10:002009-07-01T13:15:21.377+10:00Kyoto's magic bars<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiOlLy5HOzQxTEgI_VD6kqckNWi_3yHw3ir4ohFS-xEx1YHa_IhJaLr5Cq1O5URZiWpxG4f0hGKM-NDdc4D6hrRmsWN3YkNVWzWnbPVdDE7l13S3y4dmAgA7DiwDJjTpmD7SnGAQ3Xk6U/s1600-h/CIMG0129.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiOlLy5HOzQxTEgI_VD6kqckNWi_3yHw3ir4ohFS-xEx1YHa_IhJaLr5Cq1O5URZiWpxG4f0hGKM-NDdc4D6hrRmsWN3YkNVWzWnbPVdDE7l13S3y4dmAgA7DiwDJjTpmD7SnGAQ3Xk6U/s200/CIMG0129.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353322431422924274" border="0" /></a><br />No car parking facilities. Six stools. One bar. No bottle shop. Just a friendly little neighborhood bar in Kyoto.<br /><br />It was 11pm when I found Taro's Cafe in a quiet back street of Kyoto.<br /><br />Looking through the door, I saw that there was only the barmaid and one customer there.<br /><br />"Umm.. are you open?" I asked in my shattered Japanese.<br /><br />"Of course we're open," the barmaid sarcastically replied, "this is a <span style="font-style: italic;">bar</span>."<br /><br />So I stayed. Talking and drinking and drinking and talking until the owner came in.<br /><br />And then I stayed some more. Talking and drinking and drinking and talking until the 1am closing time.<br /><br />And then I stayed some more. Talking and drinking and drinking and talking with Taro, who owned the bar, and Natsuke, the graduate student who worked behind the bar, until 1.30am.<br /><br />I could have stayed longer, but instead had a pleasant walk through the balmy Kyoto night to my bed beneath George Jetson's house.<br /><br />It was supposed to be my last night in Kyoto...<br /><br />It wasn't.<br /><br />24 hours later, I would be back in Taro's cafe, talking and drinking and drinking and talking through the night that Michael Jackson died.<br /><br />I would finally leave Taro's at 4.30am, as my drinking companion (who happened to be related to George W. Bush), had a conference in Tokyo later that morning.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6779784650778795514.post-46597518606848686022009-07-01T12:51:00.003+10:002009-07-01T12:53:38.183+10:00Time to catch upToo many good nights in Kyoto, and then hassles connecting to the Internet (no 'net cafes in Uji, crashed computers in Nara and a crashed LAN in Tokyo) mean that I'm now back in Brisbane with this update.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6779784650778795514.post-67671686664252583782009-06-23T07:31:00.004+10:002009-06-23T07:48:17.048+10:00Yamanote Line<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOfsr_yZjpnkdq47fJ5fYa1H_WXcDfpAwqZ9WCKc-844GZ33NVSfJMgzUfJgulV9aJvYcPU38xj-FTOzeEn4bFSuy3HTamNGAp4-jzjMI1GaW0Tb9sgsG75VL89JLx3UFo-bLAZhN06YY/s1600-h/IMG_0584.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOfsr_yZjpnkdq47fJ5fYa1H_WXcDfpAwqZ9WCKc-844GZ33NVSfJMgzUfJgulV9aJvYcPU38xj-FTOzeEn4bFSuy3HTamNGAp4-jzjMI1GaW0Tb9sgsG75VL89JLx3UFo-bLAZhN06YY/s200/IMG_0584.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350269924461136530" border="0" /></a><br />To find an uncrowded train on the Yamanote line is about as likely as finding a replacement mobile phone recharger in Tokyo for a non-Japanese mobile phone.<br /><br />According to <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yamanote_Line#Ridership">Wikipedia</a>, there are 3.5 million passengers <span style="font-style: italic;">per day </span>on the Yamanote Line riding between its 29 stations. In comparison, the <span style="font-style: italic;">entire </span>New York Subway system carries just over five million passengers per day over a network of 26 lines and 468 stations.<br /><br />Even on a quiet Sunday night, I found, a Yamanote Line train out of Shibuya made the "crowded" peak-hour trains people are wont to complain about back home in Brisbane appear to be utterly deserted.<br /><br />And it was on such a crowded and cramped carriage that I saw what must have been the world's least convincing anime cosplayer.<br /><br />We'll start from the ground and go up.<br /><br />High-heel shoes.<br /><br />Fishnet stockings.<br /><br />Very, very, very short mini skirt.<br /><br />Camisole top that was rather revealing.<br /><br />Handbag.<br /><br />Hairband with "Bugs Bunny"-type ears attached.<br /><br />And, on <span style="font-weight: bold;">his</span> chin, a five-day growth of beard.<br /><br />Oh, and he had the build of a front-row-forward.<br /><br />But the really funny thing was everyone's reaction to discovering this extremely bizarre cross-dresser in their midst.<br /><br />In short, there was no reaction.<br /><br />None at all.<br /><br />It was as if it was expected that every Yamanote Line train leaving Shibuya on a Sunday night must carry at least one burly, bearded, bunny-eared, hairy-chested cross-dresser.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6779784650778795514.post-17468437055970617802009-06-23T07:30:00.001+10:002009-06-23T07:31:34.208+10:00Lost in Tokyo, Found in KyotoThe futile search for a telephone power cord turned out to be unnecessary: the bloody thing was in my port all the time.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6779784650778795514.post-7600902757414271922009-06-23T01:00:00.003+10:002009-06-23T01:22:58.678+10:00George Jetson's House<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiuv0mcI9bvy7RbL7rbBF7PeydPlpOSUCyPUIrZgnG5iD2iy5D4EcGaU5o6U9ZklxtYsv9Z3KTqfK9JctFvVeyDjy5eOW6-jP3i-8JOk1CC35c6oGhh6Y9hTQxvRYpiJonzwJDBx5JwsQ/s1600-h/IMG_0234.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 134px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiuv0mcI9bvy7RbL7rbBF7PeydPlpOSUCyPUIrZgnG5iD2iy5D4EcGaU5o6U9ZklxtYsv9Z3KTqfK9JctFvVeyDjy5eOW6-jP3i-8JOk1CC35c6oGhh6Y9hTQxvRYpiJonzwJDBx5JwsQ/s200/IMG_0234.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350170040114347698" /></a><br />... is above my hotel room. Well, actually, George, Janey, Judy, Elroy, Astro and the robotic maid Rosie don't actually <span style="font-style:italic;">live</span> there: it's really a lookout platform 90 metres up the Kyoto Tower.<br /><br />But gee, it really looks like George Jetson's house, doesn't it?<br /><br />And because it does, I found it a rather irresistible urge to book a room in the hotel beneath the tower. That it's conveniently across the road from Kyoto railway station and is quite cheap in price for the service provided (my room costs about the same as a regional city motel room in Australia, but with a laundry service provided, as well as free Internet access and a free ticket to go up the Kyoto Tower and visit George, Janey, Judy, Elroy, Astro and Rosie).Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6779784650778795514.post-61237691217847792702009-06-22T02:09:00.005+10:002009-06-22T02:26:09.763+10:00The Quest.It began on Saturday night, just after I arrived in my Asakusa ryokan and noticed that my mobile phone was very low on power.<br />For that was when I realised that its AC power cord was back home in Brisbane, leaving me with the option of spending the next week in Japan with a telephone that has 18% of battery life, or getting a new AC adaptor.<br />It’s a Sony-built telephone, so getting a new adaptor for it in Japan ought to be a walk in the park, or at least easier than getting a new power cord for my Dell netbook computers, whose AC adaptors I also left behind in Brisbane.<br />That was what I thought, anyway.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbFDSa3SKpzelKyBmh5R8SHAzQhjlz3aUmK46LnFhg4ThIbCBBKoYUlvsP5xM6Ln7-Tfe0bYZVGR-EBhVWtfc8mU6NLdpoHjF-mvB9hcNd-HFf73lOJ64vGtLE4xW4IyrN9HpKjMZ3gp4/s1600-h/IMG_0169.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 134px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbFDSa3SKpzelKyBmh5R8SHAzQhjlz3aUmK46LnFhg4ThIbCBBKoYUlvsP5xM6Ln7-Tfe0bYZVGR-EBhVWtfc8mU6NLdpoHjF-mvB9hcNd-HFf73lOJ64vGtLE4xW4IyrN9HpKjMZ3gp4/s200/IMG_0169.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349817629776847010" /></a>First stop on the quest was Akihabara, a strange and noisy place where the electrical appliance shops are seven floors tall and where there are fetishistically-dressed meidos on almost every corner handing out pamphlets for the meido cafes at which they work.<br />If an AC adaptor could be got in Japan, it ought to be got in Akihabara.<br />And I did get one – a universal PC adaptor sold to me by a Bangladeshi called “Lotus” in a street-corner second-hand PC shop – within five minutes of stepping out of the station.<br />But one for the telephone proved to be a harder quest.<br />I tried the shop called “Onoden”, without luck, even though a beautiful young Japanese woman from Sydney who worked there tried her best to get me what I wanted.<br />So the beautiful young lass with the broad Sydney accent sent me up the road to a shop called “Akky II”, where a Frenchman working there tried his best, but with no success.<br />Then, in a roundabout fashion, Susan at the little Casio shop just down the road from the KFC underneath the trainline sent me to a department store called Yodobashi Camera. <br />No luck there, either in the AV department or in the mobile phone department – and it wasn’t for the want of trying on the part of the shop assistants who had to cope with my miserable Japanese.<br />Now I’m in Ginza, typing these words at a café table a few floors up in the Sony building.<br />The mobile phone is a Sony mobile phone. Surely, I thought, I should be able to get an adaptor for my phone from Sony, of all places.<br />Umm. No.<br />The Sony building is a Ginza landmark. It is also a showplace for Sony’s products, from pocket-sized PCs to full-wall television sets. In a way, it is a department store and it shares one definite thing in common with almost all Japanese department stores: an information desk near the entrance with a very helpful person there to help you to the best of their ability.<br />And the woman at the entrance to the Sony building almost went above and beyond the call of duty to get me a new power cord.<br />But it was all to no avail. After 20 minutes of trying, and phoning what seemed to be every department of the 10-floor Sony building except for the restaurants, she apologised that she couldn’t get me what I wanted.<br />It turns out that all of Japan’s mobile phone providers have their own, unique style of socket for their phones, and that the socket on my Sony W-760i is not compatable with any of the Japanese plugs.<br />“Maybe at the airport, someone can help you” was one apologetic suggestion I got in Akihabara.<br />Maybe, but I don’t like my chances…<br />But at least I won’t run out of power for my computers now. <br />I hope.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6779784650778795514.post-3554389620669641742009-06-21T09:17:00.005+10:002009-07-04T00:11:48.285+10:00Arrival<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp5Bzef9YvCGWF9kWONGpj4HlIcKhhM0qEdlT2XEXXqquCdRrZa_5_HRFDi7EDdySOHWwd3a39Zokv5MxVdp6wFvp5LsVTONvDrx00YXcarKaGMirGzlrDNOos2aut3OywECczrPTDxYI/s1600-h/In+FLight+011.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp5Bzef9YvCGWF9kWONGpj4HlIcKhhM0qEdlT2XEXXqquCdRrZa_5_HRFDi7EDdySOHWwd3a39Zokv5MxVdp6wFvp5LsVTONvDrx00YXcarKaGMirGzlrDNOos2aut3OywECczrPTDxYI/s320/In+FLight+011.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354235806241710626" border="0" /></a><br />This time, the drama was before leaving.<br /><br />Got to Brisbane Airport at 5.30am, having run the gauntlet of the Valley nightclub streets on the way, only to discover that my Japan Railways pass was sitting at home.<br /><br />So the brother (who gave me a lift to the airport) and I had to run the gauntlet of the Valley two more times before departure.<br /><br />The flight -- on a Qantas ticket and a Japan Air Lines Boeing -- was as flights go. Seat 47A of a Boeing 767 gives one a panoramic view of the port wing, nevertheless I got a glimpse of a part of the ocean that is famous in literature.<br /><br />The flight from Brisbane to Tokyo takes a direct line across the western Pacific. This is the stretch of water across which Ahab sailed the <span style="font-style: italic;">Pequod</span> in pursuit of Moby Dick.<br /><br />And as I look at the clouds below, I notice one that looks a bit like Laputa, the flying island which Lemuel Gulliver encountered on the third of his eponymous <span style="font-style: italic;">Travels</span>-- which was in these waters -- and written about by Jonathon Swift.<br /><br />But mostly I watched the movies. One <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1010055/">strange </a>one that appeared to be a cross between the <span style="font-style: italic;">Power Rangers</span> and <span style="font-style: italic;">Wallace & Gromit</span>; whilst the other film was a very good, very sad <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0442268/fullcredits"> ghost love story</a>.<br /><br />Missed the N'EX train that connects Narita with Tokyo Station (no stops), so landed up on the <span style="font-style: italic;">Rapid</span>, which makes quite a few stops.<br /><br />Now ensconced in what's almost becoming my <a href="http://www.shigetsu.com/e/index.html">second home</a>, as I keep finding myself here when I'm in Tokyo.<br /><br />And when I got here, I discovered that I'd left the rechargers for my computer and mobile phone back in Brisbane.<br /><br />So it's off I set into a rainy Tokyo summers day to get new rechargers, and possibly see a Kabuki version of <span style="font-style: italic;">A Midsummer Night's Dream</span>.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0