Draw 8

Rewind to December. At 4am on a balmy Thai summer morning, we rose before the sun and caught a taxi to the new (controversial) Suvarnabhumi Airport in Bangkok. A relaxing check in and leisurely wait in the departure lounge allowed us a little time to reminisce on the last six weeks. We had intended to spend the time in Laos, Vietnam and Cambodia, but these countries will have a little wait until Tiff and John to grace their shores.

We had however, done a quick one day border run to Cambodia to renew our visas. A delightfully, surprisingly comfortable minibus with water provided, a quick four-five hour drive and all our paperwork arranged for us. The rickety wooden bridges at the bordertown were filled to literally overflowing (kids were jumping into the water) with all kinds of human, animal and mechanical traffic into the country where the bitumen roads abruptly stopped and the kids started begging the rich tourists for money. Despite its’ similarities to India on first glance, the whole atmosphere and vibe was different, and we lamented that we wouldn’t be spending more time here. At least this time around. We were treated to a buffet lunch for our hour and 200m inside Cambodia (while the bureaucrats did their work) and then had a quick four hour trip back to Bangkok. So officially, we have been to Cambodia – we even have the visas in our passports to prove it!

Sitting in the lounge we again lamented the Indian health system and then thanked the luck (although it may not have seemed it at the time) of John having a relapse and forcing us to seek better medical care. We also rejoiced in the fact that the downtime allowed us to exercise (each to his own level) at the large, gloriously grassed, Lumphini Park, and gave us time to research Japan, organize interviews and accommodation (short and long term).

We had visited the Red Cross Snake Farm, where antivenom is collected for Thai medicos. As we arrived (late) we rounded the corner to climb into the viewing grandstand and were confronted by a three metre long King Cobra. The ‘stage’ was the area in front of the grandstand, so we had to pass the snakes to get there. The handler motioned for us to go past and climb into the stands but John stubbornly refused, saying “Don’t watch us mate, watch the snake.” Eventually we made it into the shade, John at the back as far away from the snakes as possible, and Tiff at the front within striking distance. After the very interesting presentation (the presenter had had half his thigh grafted to his arm to replace flesh killed by a cobra bite... interesting), we toured the snake cases and saw a few freaky lookin’ guys (with spines and spikes and evil eyes), a tight bundle of writhing babies, and a Siamese Cobra on the wrong side of its’ moat.

We visited the ‘Golden Mount’ - a tall, golden stupa which towers above Bangkok. A winding staircase coils around the body of the stupa, leading you past prayer wheels, spinning clockwise and dinging beautiful, mellow bells on each rotation. Truly spiritual until the next group of panting, puffing, loudly chatting, overweight Thais round the corner. The short pilgrimage finishes at a room filled with golden idols and a repeated recording asking you to donate 10baht. The highest lookout wasn’t open the day we visited, and the view from the idol room was smoggy at best. So we took our time uncoiling, and took some detours to look at older, more authentic-looking statues.

And of course no trip to Bangkok would be complete without a tour of the famed Ko Ratanakosin Area. We trawled the Amulet Markets for something John could use as a good luck charm (the gods know he needs it and the Bumrungrad doctors recommended it too), but found the stalls all either overpriced or the amulets too commercial (available in Brisbane) or too dirty/simple/looked like they were carved by a child and then left in the yard for a week. We ferried over the river to Wat Arun, lamenting, or should we say reminiscing, about the longboats to and from Tonsai. We had missed the water having spent the last four months land locked… The Wat itself was surprisingly disappointing when compared with the ruins at Sukhothai, or the Jain temples in India, but the ceramic mosaic work was great, if that’s what you’re into.

We then approached the Grand Palace. Pre-warned that admission required conservative dress, we were all prepared. But Tiff was wearing three quarter pants and unfortunately that wasn’t good enough. Ankles you see, are very offensive. We could have indulged the entrepreneurial locals who were selling loud patterned pants and sarongs, but the heat was high, we realized that we were visiting because we thought we should rather than because we actually wanted to, and rationalized that we’d seen many Wats in our time in Thailand anyway. So we retreated that day into our cold airconditioning, and conceded to the weather.

Tiff did want to see Wat Pho though – for the big Buddha. And it was a BIIIIIG Buddha. 46 metres long and 15 metres high, and it was gold. There were some other interesting statues around the complex, but really, the big Buddha was the drawcard. She didn’t get a massage (remembering her last Thai massage experience where the masseuse put her back out), but thought it was interesting to see where ‘THE Thai massage’ was taught and learnt.

Our last treat to ourselves was a ferris wheel ride. We had caught glimpses of the circular lights from our runs in Lumphini Park, and went on an exploratory expedition to find it on one of our last nights. The ‘Rue de Paris’ is the world’s largest transportable ferris wheel and is currently on a world tour – just like us! It gave us a sentimentally romantic look at the Bangkok we’d come to love, from a bird’s eye view.

We had a quick flight to Kuala Lumpur, and had to catch a rickety old bus for the transfer between the Low Cost Carrier (Air Asia) Terminal and the International. It reminded us of India, helped by the fact that the bus driver was Indian. Still too early to deal with India again yet. Tiff had to load the bags on, taking up seats because there was no luggage space/compartment/anything. In Bangkok, John had bought a luggage trolley (his ‘trundly’) which he used to move his bag around. It was great – so long as there were no steps or curbs or well, anything really that wasn’t flat and straight or a ramp. It was a source of embarrassment to Tiff, until she saw how well it worked 90% of the time, and then she wanted one for herself!

We caught the courtesy bus to our extravagant treat to ourselves – a three star hotel (which John hated because it reminded him of a school camp layout with buildings and dorms etc.) where the food was pretty horrible (again with the school camp theme). We had intended to train into KL and see the Petronas Towers, but John was exhausted and Tiff had the flu, so after an afternoon nap and meal, we retired to the pool and then watched English language movies and TV until we fell asleep…

We courtesy bussed back to the airport in the morning and lined up in a looooooong check-in line three hours before the flight was due to leave. Since our check-in opened two hours before, we thought for sure it would take an hour for the line to go down. Well 45 mins later we were next in line. The end of the line was further back than when we had first joined and we were hoping they wouldn’t send us away. A nail-biting few minutes were had while we handed over our passports and tickets – would they see what flight we were on and what time it was? Would we be penalized for arriving early? But no, we got through, and paid no extra baggage (what a pleasant surprise! – thanks Malaysian Air!).

So many things were floating in our minds as we boarded the plane for Japan. Another country, another culture, another society. Would it be good? Would it be bad? Would it hold in store for us as many trials and tribulations as the previous three had? Only time could tell. And maybe Fate. Or God. Well, certainly not us.

It was refreshingly cold, clean and the people didn’t care about us when we arrived in Tokyo. Not being hassled, having no one even look at us as we walked by, was such a nice change. A couple of pointers from a nice young man we’d met at the airport in KL, and we were on the spiffy train to the city. A couple of line changes with millions of steps, two elevators and a sore John later and we were at our first stop in Japan – Juyoh Hotel.

We went to one of the proliferation of convenience stores for dinner and were confronted by ABSOLUTELY NO ENGLISH products. Using the pictures on the excessive packaging, Tiff chose a dried meat (pork, chicken, beef?) noodle soup and John a bento box of assorted indefinable food portions. John’s meal was accompanied by a lemon squash which later turned out to be half vodka.

We spent an interesting evening using the provided slippers and yukatas (Japanese bathrobes – only cotton, don’t they ever get cold?!?!?), marveling at the tiny plastic ‘unit’ showers and sleeping on genuine futons on genuine tatami floors. Hint: futons are just hard mattresses on the ground – ‘western futons’ are better.

The next day we lugged our 60 kg of luggage across one train, two subway lines, two changes and infamously packed carriages (no elevators) to the office of our apartment realtors. They then drove us to our 85,000 yen (AUD$924) a month apartment which was so small the whole thing could have fit in our living room at Rogers St. 16m2, and John could touch one wall with his hand and the other with his foot. We were lucky though that this apartment also had a loft – adding about 2x2.5m to the apartment size and allowing us to leave our beds out all the time – ie. not have to pull the beds out to sleep and pack them away so there’s room to move during the day (the norm for a lot of Japanese apartments). Oh, and the ‘beds’ are just (thin) mattresses on the floor.

So, our new neighbourhood became Araiyakushi-mae - kanji symbols ‘scarecrow next to a barn’, ‘warped noughts and crosses board’, ‘blowfish’, ‘man who’s lost his glasses’ and ‘one-clawed crab’. Well, in Tiff and John translation anyway.

After all the shit we’ve been through, and all the cultural difficulties and the trials and tests of travel, you don’t expect to get culture shock in the first civilized country you come to. Everyone drives normally on the correct side of the road. The streets are clean of consumer as well as human waste, there are modern conveniences and all sorts of shops on every corner. There is no dirt on the streets or in front of shops. The restaurants are clean and everyone’s polite. And yet Tiff went into partial coma mode. It was up to John, who was loving every minute of it, to get Tiff up and out the door. All she wanted to do was cuddle up in a corner and read books of fiction. It took quite a few days to get Tiff to the stage where she was able to go out without John, or even get up without his cajoling. He was thriving.

We then spent a frantic two days looking for business outfits for Tiffany’s interview, trying to find something under $600. It’s amazing how hard it is to find something so simple. In another country, where you don’t know the shop names or what they sell, it’s hard, but at least you can look it up in a directory. When you can’t read or speak the language either, everything just gets ten times harder. We were running around and panicking, despairing to think we were going to have to spend a huge chunk of our last reserves of cash, when we came across Gap. One try-on and ten seconds later and we were breathing a huge sigh of relief. Disaster averted. Now, just a small indulgence of a part cashmere coat with birthday money from home… thanks Auntie Martie, Grandma and Grandpa!!!

The group interview went well, with Tiff having quiet co-interviewees to contend with. Naturally she dominated the floor (fancy that) and left feeling confident and secure. The next stage was an interview with a specific Learning Centre Supervisor. This didn’t go quite so well with the Supervisor being a little stiff and formal for Tiff’s liking. She must have been too easygoing and informal for his liking because he didn’t offer her a position. Tiff wasn’t feeling so confident and secure anymore. She was sent to a different Learning Centre, closer to home, and got on well with the Supervisor there. He offered her a job at the interview and she breathed another sigh of relief.

In the mean time, Tiff had had an interview with another company based in Nagano, which turned into an interview for John as well. The prospect of having us both working in the same place was quite appealing, but the school only had one position available at the time, and then Tiff was offered the Berlitz job in Tokyo.

Christmas day was a quiet affair. Several pressies had been sent from home which we gleefully opened, and we went on an extensive walk around the neighbourhood wearing the Santas hats John’s dad had sent previously. Japan, not being a Christian country, doesn’t celebrate Christmas, so therefore the sidelong glances at our silly hats were not unexpected; but when we smiled to acknowledge the absurdity of the situation, stony faces were returned. Ahh, the fabled Japanese mask… We also played soccer in the local park (thanks Gem and Jan for the ball and mini witches' hats), with John's back surviving Tiff's unco tackling and even managing a little jog.

A week and lots of investigation later, we discover that John cannot get sponsorship from a company for a Work Visa due to Japanese Immigration Laws on account of him not having a degree (finished or one that looks likely to be finished in the near decade), so he would have to go home to get a Working Holiday Visa. There was some speculation as to whether or not Tiff would go home as well, but the matter of having to wait four weeks for her Certificate of Eligibility (prerequisite for the visa) to come through decided it. Frantic planning and return flights to Australia booked, and we sit back and wait.

We had intended to go clubbing on New Year’s, cashing in on John’s promise to dance whenever he got the opportunity now that he had regained use of his legs, but when it came time, it all seemed too much, too loud and too, well, un-Japanese. You can go clubbing anywhere, at any time of the year can’t you? So instead we had hot sake at home and then strolled in the freezing cold to our local pond park. We sat on a bench and reminisced (yes, again) about the year that had been, the experiences lived, and the hardships survived. At midnight we were standing in a line outside a Seven Eleven – VERY Japanese – to get into our local Shinto shrine. The lanterns were magical, hanging and swinging softly in the breeze, illuminating all around them with a faint red glow. The first prayers of the year are supposedly the most auspicious and powerful, so many people around Japan line up at their local from December 31st and all day on January 1. Some large shrines have millions of people lining up. We were lucky, only half our neighbourhood showed up! We prayed for peace for all, family and friends, and good luck.

Tiff’s dad called as we were moving towards the shrine, and so a muffled conversation ensued, punctuated by shy, coy looks from the two young Japanese people in front of us. When she got off the phone, Mayu and K started talking to us, sharing with us their love of travelling, of Australia, of U2. They told us what the custom at the shrine was (throw your coins, two claps, two bell pulls, a bow, prayers and two claps and a bow again), showed us the mochi making (a rice dough sweet famed for choking to death the elderly with its’ glutinous mass), helped us with the tradition of drinking sake from a small ceramic dish, and promising to keep in touch when we came back to Tokyo.

With some free time on our hands we decided to visit the famed ‘Meiji-Jingue’ Shinto Shrine, the biggest in Tokyo, and equally as famous for being the hang out of ‘Cos-play’ youngsters. They turn out in droves on weekends, dressed to the nines in costumes ranging from sweet and cuddly to downright disturbing, to be photographed, to pose and to socialise. We found the exhibitionism disturbing after having spent so long trying to get frank, honest photographs of people, without objectifying them. And here they were objectifying themselves! The shrine was nice. Peaceful. In parkland surrounded by a nature that seemed almost out of place in concrete Tokyo. The simple lines, shapes, architecture and natural materials seemed to lend themselves to the feeling of unglorified, unpretentious, everyday spiritualism, with no burden of obligation...
With another few days ahead of us, we decided to get out of the city. We were tossing up between heading to Nagano and the snow fields, or Mt Fuji. As there hadn’t been much snow and the ski season usually lasts until mid-April, we decided to leave Nagano until we returned. So, Mt Fuji here we come!

We caught a mid-morning bus (2 hrs) to the main ‘Mt Fuji Town’ of Kawaguchi-ko in the Five Lakes (Go Ko) District. Our first view of the mountain was only about 15 minutes outside of Tokyo and was accompanied by some excited squeals (if you can imagine John squealing). We jumped off the bus and started walking towards the Fuji-Yoshida Hostel. Ten minutes later, we decided it was going to be too far to walk so promptly turned around and went back to the train/bus station. The information centre was very helpful and made a booking for us. They then gave us directions including a train trip for FOUR STOPS!!! The hostel was great – no one else there but us, thick futons, tatami mat floors, quiet, rice paper doors and best of all, a traditional Japanese bathroom with what we Westerners would call a hot tub – for one! It’s amazing how much stress can be relieved by sitting in steaming hot water up to your neck. The shower beforehand to clean yourself is bloody cold, but when you know it’s going to be followed by this beautiful soak, it’s worth it!

We walked to the local Seven Eleven, had them heat us up our dishes, and then sat in the setting sun in their carpark, watching Mt Fuji and trying to keep warm. The view was magnificent. The cold was devastating. How could it not be snowing? The next day we had planned to do some sightseeing, but when John rose before the sun and looked out the window – as was the daily snow anticipation ritual - all he could see was white. He shut the window, and then opened it again, and then woke Tiff with “Tiiiiffff! Tiff! Look outside Tiff!!!” “Where’s the fire, where’s the fire? – Oh my god!” It had been snowing all night and the whole town was covered in about 40cm of white powder! Well, all thought of sightseeing was forgotten as we put on all the clothes we had and went dancing into the night/morning. For us, the first people up, the snow was pristine. We made snow angels in the empty carparks, ran along the footpaths, fell and kicked and threw snowballs, and then it started snowing! So the most snow either of us had ever seen, and the first time we had been somewhere when the snow was actually falling. WOW.

We had breakfast sitting in our little room with the window open watching the flakes change colour and size and texture. Then we went out some more. We visited the local Shinto shrine and got some crackin’ photos (but were very concerned that the camera would get wet or freeze up, or whatever). And spent the rest of the day marveling.

The next day we took an optimistic cable car ride up to the Mt Fuji viewing platform for a picturesque view of… cloud, and then went for a walk around Kawaguchi Lake. Towards the end of the day and walk (which was really trying John’s poor knee and back), the clouds cleared away and the desolate scene of a chill wind whipping up the foam on an icy lake in front of a towering mountain, was displayed before us. Some more great photo opportunities later and we were back in the warmth of the bus until the gale force winds of Tokyo hit us two hours later.

We utilized the uniquely Japanese courier service (convenience store to anywhere) and sent two of our bags to David and Tomoko’s house for the duration of our sojourn in Brisbane – see we have to come back – and spent our last night again in Juyoh. In the morning, we realized that Mt Fuji can actually be quite clearly seen from the lift of the Hotel, even though it’s around 100kms away.

We flew to Seoul the next morning for a three hour stopover, before heading back to Brisbane. We were confronted with the most Westerners we’d seen in one place since we left Brisbane the year before, and had to re-adapt to blonde hair, broad accents and clean, obviously prosperous little girls with scruffy hair and bare feet.

As we touched down in Brisbane, we discussed the possibility that if we stayed on the plane, it would take us straight back to Tokyo and we wouldn’t have to go home at all. We marveled at the size of Brisbane, and especially the airport, wondering where the rest of it had gone… Tiff’s greatest fear was not wanting to leave home again, and John’s was being so bored that he would hate being home again. We shall see.

Japanese Idiosyncracies
· Public vs private face.
· Adults who are not nerds reading cartoons.
· Business men are allowed to read porn on a train.
· Respect for a person in every type of employment – Maccas worker to street promotions and businessmen.
· 10 eggs in a carton instead of 12.

: 4, 6 or 8 pieces of bread in a loaf.
· Paper Book covers promoting the store.
· Face masks.
· Tiny, narrow little streets and no street names, just random block and building numbers.
· Parks with no grass… just large expanses of dirt.
· Children’s playground slides made from thin, round metal poles.
· The proliferation of convenience stores (they’re not convenient anymore, they’re in your face stores).
· The number of beverages and smokes vending machines with no food anywhere…
· The impeccable service.
· The customer service people who don’t stop talking all through the transaction.
· Cash registers where the storeperson feeds in notes and coins and the machine spits out the change, no till required.
· Pedestrians need to wear helmets on the footpath, not the cyclists.
· Dogs wearing coats and being taken for a ‘walk’ being pushed around in prams.
· Pachinko! Pachinko pachinko pachinko!
· Some maps and brochures having some parts English and other parts all Japanese – just decide one way or another would you?!?!?!?!
· The number of women who are apparently wearing wigs.
· Short skirts are an all year round clothing item, even when it snows.
· John can be happy here all year round.
· The extraordinary number of ‘sleepers’ on the train who miraculously wake up when it’s their stop.
· The inordinate number of women with bow legs and pigeon-toes, obviously owed to the three inch stiletto heels worn on the bottom of knee or thigh high boots by the vast majority of the young female population.
· The extraordinary number of people who fit on the train…+1 more...+1 more.
· The cheerful little melodies that play at train and subway stations ……
· Ferris wheel carparks.
· Shopping trolleys made up of one or two hand baskets put on a metal frame with wheels.
· Just because they smile, doesn’t mean they’re happy.
· Just because they say they’re happy doesn’t mean they are.
· Just because they say they’re having a good time doesn’t mean they are.
· Just because they say you’re doing a good job doesn’t mean you are.
· If they say you’re doing a bad job, then you’ve really stuffed something up.