Everything is Love...

Being the dimwitted rock gods that we are, the Delightful Miss E and I completely failed to prepare accomodation in Osaka when we were "planning" our summersonic trip. In the end we decided that the best thing to do was to just turn up in Osaka and assume we could find a room. It's a huge city with many hotels, surely we would have no problem ...

and no problems did we have, primarily because of the Glorious Japanese Invention that is the Love Hotel. Love Hotels are designed for brief stays, usually 2 hours, for the express purpose of having lots of sex. Apparently in Japan it can be quite difficult for young people to have sex in the comfort of their own homes, either because they are living with family or because they are in housing which is not very good for sound. Having heard the sounds that a Japanese woman was making in a Hiroshima Love Hotel just a week ago, I can vouch for the ... ah... unrestrained ... nature of the self-expression which Love Hotels are designed to accomodate. Of course, being a man I don't make noise when I bump uglies, and being an atheist I would never consider bumping uglies before marriage; however, when in Rome it is best to visit the Circus, especially when there is nothing else to do while waiting for the bus home; so the Delightful Miss E and I visited the charmingly named and situated "Hotel Roland" to stay the night.

The little known side point of Love Hotels is that they don't get much business at night. They are designed for the discrete daytime affair, or for that amorous moment when one just has to divert from the days' activities to stick it to someone near and dear. At such a time one only need to pause for the time it takes to fork out the 3000 yen ($35) to get into a room (or in some cases, press the button on the vending machine and head for the lift - everything works on trust in this country, even in the Big City). However, late at night there is another option - 6000 yen to stay from 10pm to 10am, with all the mod cons available in the shorter stays, but more time to avail oneself of them. In Australia such places are $5 an hour, of course, but you would not sleep there and mostly they are the province of street sex workers and junkies; but here in the Land of the Rising Sun they are used by strictly ordinary folk for strictly extraordinary fun. To give an example: while we were checking the prices at Love Hotel Mother Theresa a couple came in to take one of the rooms - she was wearing a yukata and they had obviously been out to some kind of special event for the evening. A beautiful fusion of the sacrilegious, the modern and the ancient in one brief moment.

So what does one get for 6000 yen? A proper double bed (which is a rarity in Japan for some obscure reason), two chairs, a TV with two of the most amateur porn channels you have ever seen, mostly revolving around women being kind of compelled to do something they ultimately enjoy (of course...); a huge gigantic sexpot of a bathtub; a separate bathroom and toilet, much larger than those in the average hotel room; air conditioning (essential in the sauna that is Japan); a Dildo dispenser; and a vague pinkish sort of theme. For a bit extra money at the better love hotels one gets themed rooms, but we didn't have a choice or the money. For your edification, a picture of the dildo dispenser is included in this post, as well as a slightly blurry shot of its deluxe contents (2500 yen, or maybe $28), which like all deluxe packages of this sort are black. I restrained myself from taking pictures of sweet channel porn's offerings, because they really weren't very pleasant.

The things in the room are just the start, however. Discretely tucked away in one corner is a menu of delivery food (cheap) and other things one can engage in if one wants. Playstation 2 rental is free along with a very wide selection of excellent games, but the best part of it is the cosplay. One can obtain free costumes for one's favourite stereotype in order to enhance the lovin' - the main costume types were anime characters, nurses, secretaries, schoolgirls (of course!), the Budweiser girl (!!!), playboy bunny (of course!) and a couple of video game pretties. All one has to do is dial room service and your fantasy will arrive.

But the most fascinating thing? Nowhere in the room was there any advertising for sex workers, call girls, escorts, ladies of the night. You can bring a paid stranger with you through the door, but you can't find an advert for one once you arrive. Most peculiar indeed.

I shan't titillate you with the details of our particular choice of cosplay, porn viewing, dildo selection or playstation game, but we arrived at midnight and had to be up at 6am for our bus, so Sonic the Hedgehog was out, no matter how he was to be played. Nonetheless, a fascinating side point of a thoroughly entertaining and satisfying adventure, and one I can recommend to all my gentle readers, especially if like me you find yourself post-Metallica, all fired up with nowhere to go...

From the Cathedral of Darkness

The Osaka sky is never black at night - always dark purple, or orange if there are clouds, because of the neon glow of the city. To me Osaka is a more frightening and overbearing city than Tokyo or even Shanghai, because it is so huge and so busy. When I enter Osaka I really feel like I have entered the centre of the industrialised world, full of factories and massive freeways and huge buildings towering to the sky. There is no better place to watch a Metallica concert, and that is exactly what I did this last weekend.

Metallica were playing as part of Summersonic, an annual music festival like the Big Day Out which actually manages to attract important international bands, Osaka being the centre of the world and all. Metallica played in the open air stage at dusk, right at the foot of the world trade centre, which towered over the stage like a massive neon statue. The sky was orange and from my position in the middle of the crowd I could see other huge skyscrapers marching off into the distance. The stage was flanked by two huge screens, on which we could see Metallica in detail, and the night was balmy with a slight breeze and scattered drizzle.

I last saw Metallica play 15 years ago, in Adelaide, and knew what to expect, but I was stunned by their intense energy of their performance. Songs I had seen played ferociously 15 years ago were being performed with the same, if not more, aggression by men who are well into the time when nice bands retire. The singer had the same hulking, intense presence on stage, the guitarist had the same focussed dedication he had then, and although they were all visibly aged, they showed no signs of having worn out. The crowd were in uproar from the very start, and although like all Japanese musical audiences they became quite staid by the end, Metallica never relented in their forceful performance. Against the backdrop of the neon sky and the towering buildings, the huge sound and the apocalyptic themes were like a journey into Hell.

Back in the old days, before they had to scrimp for every penny the way they do now, Metallica released a video of concert footage made from bootlegged videos (they used to encourage that sort of thing). On this video I saw an awe-inspiring performance of Sanitarium at an open air festival, and I never thought I would ever have the chance to experience such a phenomenon. Imagine my surprise then when, halfway through the performance, the band announce that they are going to do a complete, 20th anniversary rendition of the album Master of Puppets - considered by many to be Metallica's finest work - in its entirety! Fifteen minutes later, there I was yelling along to that very same song - Sanitarium - in an open-air stage on the outskirts of hell! Never had I expected to receive such good fortune, let alone in a non-english speaking country!

And in a month Iron Maiden - who are renowned for the quality of their live performances - are coming to Hiroshima. I am, indeed, in the centre of the Industrialised world - and in the heart of Darkness, at the same time!

The Daily Wanker 2006 Kim Beazley Memorial Film Review: Gedo Senki

Gedo Senki is the Japanese name for the series A Wizard of Earthsea, which is this reviewers favourite book, by this reviewers' favourite author, Ursula K. Le Guin. The movie of the same name (Gedo Senki) is by this reviewers' favourite animation house, Studio Ghibli, which also happens to be Japan's most famous and most loved animation house, responsible for the remarkable Nausicaa, and the charming Totoro. Clearly, this Kim Beazley Memorial Film Review is going to be an unbiassed and objective affair. The objectivity can only be increased by the fact that the movie was in Japanese, and this reviewer can barely speak it, having just done his first 3 months of real Japanese study ever. A synopsis of the movie (in English) is available at Ursula le Guin's website, which of course you all know the location of already. In case you have had your favourites recently wiped, here it is again: http://www.ursulakleguin.com/GedoSenkiSynopsis.html

Since we have all read the series 5 times, we can tell from the synopsis on the website that the story for the movie incorporates many of the elements of the first 4 books, so it is not the story of one of the books retold, although the thrust of it follows the idea of the 3rd book, The Farthest Shore. In my opinion this juggling of plots and ideas is good, because it leaves the path open for Peter Jackson and Phillipa Boyens to do a complete masterpiece on the whole story just as soon as Ms. Le Guin asks (tells) them to. Of course, the book can't be improved upon by a medium as vulgar as cinema, or in fact by anyone or anything, but as I said, this is an objective review and so I shall proceed to provide an outline of some elements of the story. There are some spoilers below, so if you are planning on knowing nothing of the events of the movie, stop reading.

The first thing I should note about this movie is that it was made by Miyazaki Hayao's son, so will have a different style to the movies I mentioned above. Indeed, it had a lot less flight and less of the rollicking adventure scenes to be seen in the earlier Ghibli works, but it was still engaging and even though I didn't understand much, it held my attention for the whole time. Many changes had been made to the figures from the plot, particularly Cob (who seems to be a woman) and the Dragon. Also, in the novels Ged flees from a shadow, but in the movie it is Arren who is fleeing from a shadow, and Ged has previously done the same. Still, one crucial element of the nature of that shadow - that it is a reflection of its creator - is retained, the shadow taking on Arren's form near the end of the movie.

The Dragon's name was a secret in Japan before the movie came out, and I was expecting Kalessin or Orm Embar - I wanted to hear that wonderful "Hah!" and see someone turn to cinders! But the Dragon turns out to be Therru, which is perhaps not entirely a departure from the original story, and kind of shortens the movie by a few minutes. In my opinion the dragon seems intended to be based on Ms. le Guin's descriptions, being all grim mail and sparks and very ferocious, and the moment when you see it first is really rather inspiring. Dragons in cinema are generally shit, but this one isn't. I thought there was one scene where it was a bit naff, but mostly it was really ferocious and very cool, looking like an armoured dragon of yore and trailing sparks and being grim everywhere.

Another really good thing about this movie is Ged, who is stern, commanding, humble, quiet, capable of turning into a sparrow hawk, and called Sparrowhawk (in fact, I don't know if he is called Ged at any point). Everyone's names and true names are the same. Sadly, Ged doesn't have his little friend, the Otak, but I think there is a simple reason for this - Miyazaki Hayao put an Otak into Nausicaa 20 years ago, a direct and obvious rip off, and so therefore his son couldn't really put the same creature into Gedo Senki - oops. Oh well, live and learn.

On the topic of Ged's general demeanour, there is the ongoing issue of is he white?. Non-Americans reading this may want to tune out and flip on to the next paragraph. I have some theories about this issue and American Exceptionalism which I shall hold over, and here I shall jsut report the obvious facts - in this movie, Tenar is white with blonde hair, Therru is darker with a mark on her face, Ged is a light brownish colour offset by a very pale mark, and Arren is quite pale. Everyone is of generally European-manga appearance, so not quite Japanese and not quite European. Tenar, as far as I can recall, is the only person with blonde hair anywhere in the movie. I think this means that Studio Ghibli have tried to preserve the colour gradings of the original book while also retaining the standard Europeanized Japanese features which are absolutely mandatory for Japanese Animation (remember, in Japanese animation no-one is ever Japanese or black, though they can be blue or green). I don't know if this represents a deliberate effort or not, but if it is not a deliberate effort they have done a remarkably good job of making sure Tenar is whiter than everyone else. Some posts and opinion I have read in the US, based on the poster for the film, assume that Ged is white - but the kid in the poster is not Ged, it is Arren, who is really the main character of the movie.

Arren is a little weaker and more vulnerable than he is in the book and doesn't know Ged is the Archmage until halfway through, so Arren maybe has changed quite a bit. He has the sword and uses it well, and he needs Geds help to confront his own shadow (which is obviously writing Ged's history from book 1 into this story so as to preserve this important element of the series).

Also, Cob has been changed a fair bit - he seems to be a woman, and very pale, and turns into a classic Japanese slimy monster a few times. She is essentially doing the Cob of the book, though, trying to live forever by pulling a nasty trick which will damage all of humanity.

So the movie overall seems to stick to a general set of themes to do with being weakened by your own fears, fear of ones own mortality being a cause of evil, women being important actors in the protection and the destruction of humanity, and the dangers and wonders of allowing someone to know your true self (your true name). Whether these themes were explored well would require a knowledge of the language, which I don't have; and whether they honestly represent the ideas in Ms. le Guins novels is not for me to say, but I think they have at least *tried* (as much as people from a completely different culture can) to represent some of the ideas which can be represented. I think there is even a conversation where Arren asks Ged "why don't you use magic to do this simple task", in which case that whole speech Ged does in book 3 about the stone gets to be had in this movie; I can't follow conceptual conversations in Japanese though, so I can't tell if that was the gist of it or not.

My only real disappointment came when Therru got rid of Ged's shadow with a short conversation - I don't know what she said, and it's a classic Japanese Animation trick for the evil scary thing to suddenly turn good and not be so bad after all - because in Anime, everyone has their reasons for what they do - but it seemed a little too short and sweet to be consistent with the situation, and made me think of a plot device to shorten a movie that was otherwise going to grow too long. But again, I didn't understand the details. Sorry to anyone who has read this far thinking I am doing the classical Australian thing of understating my achievements - and sorry to anyone who is hoping to be good at Japanese after a 3 month full-time course - I just couldn't understand these sorts of conversations.

Anyway, if you are planning on watching a movie of the Earthsea series which accurately represents the story, don't bother. If you want to see Orm Embar and the Tombs of Atuan and the chasing of the shadow, don't bother. But if you want to see a fairly decent version of Ged, in a fairly cool movie with a cool dragon and a very interesting bad guy, that seems to show some of Ms. le Guin's simpler ideas, produced by one of the most progressive film houses in Japan, then give it a go. And send me the English-language version once it's out - because even though I'm going to watch it a few more times, there's no way I'll understand it!

Hiroshima day

Sandwiched between the awesomely important events described in my posts below and above this one was the annual Hiroshima Day commemoration. I arrived in Hiroshima on the 6th August at 12:39 pm, which is 61 years and 4 hours and 24 minutes after Little Boy arrived in Hiroshima by Enola Gay, and laid waste to the city. While most cities in the world hold a Hiroshima Day commemoration (which is often hijacked by other movements or people concerned about minor brushfire conflicts going on at the time), Hiroshima has a rather more splendid and serious one, involving an entire day of various activities centred around the Peace Park, the A-Bomb Dome, and the rivers on each side. The A-Bomb dome is the old prefectural industrial Hall (or something similar), which was the closest building to the epicentre that wasn't more than just rubble, and the one you usually see in the middle of the famous aerial shots, such as (for example) this one. It is also the building in my photo on this post. The Hiroshima day ceremony starts in the morning with a speech by various people (including, this year, the Famous Permed Man, Koizumi, aka "The Little Fascist", as many Japanese people supposedly call him). There is an obligatory release of doves, and various activities (which I missed) during the day. In the evening huge hordes of people turn out to the park to watch lanterns float down the river, and to draw on candles which are placed in lines along the pavements (you can see them in the picture above). There is singing, and some monks in a makeshift (?) temple doing a chant, and various other activities. Many, many people come to the park, and there are an enormous number of foreigners.

Hiroshima is, however, very far from a subdued city and although one can wander about town seeing evidence of the destruction on signposts in various places, one cannot really spend very long in Hiroshima and not be impressed by the locals' complete refusal to be glum about the events. Hiroshima is a gay and metropolitan city, the locals busy and cheerful, and they do not allow their morbid history to create a morbid atmosphere. I find the commemorative works here very positive and encouraging, focussing as they do on an end to all war and the abolition of nuclear weapons, and turning the epicentre of the destruction into a scene of quiet and peaceful contemplation. The museum is refreshingly honest and hopeful, even though its contents are quite disturbing; and the people seem to be very mindful of treating foreigners well, even though the foreigners do not always return the favour.

On this topic of treating foreigners well, the Delightful Miss E and I both heard a rumour before we came to Japan that one "should not go outside" on Hiroshima day, due to the abuse that one will cop. Never have I encountered a more ridiculous baka gaijin myth than this one, which could not be further from the truth. In fact, having come here and seen the way in which Japanese people ignore the war in their dealings with people they fought (e.g. Australians), I think such a myth is one of the nastiest and most destructive I have yet encountered. I have yet to meet a person in Japan who supports the right-wing revisionist view of the war, and yet to encounter abuse of any form, let alone such a specifically historically focussed attack. Many foreigners seem to think this represents the entire view that the Japanese have of the war, which can be quite a surprising idea once you see the diversity of opinion in this country.

So, against the backdrop of tireless Japanese patience and kindness, the Delightful Miss E and I wandered about the grounds which a mere 61 years ago had been reduced to flaming wreckage, jumping around the peace bell searching for frogs and wandering along the bridges and river banks taking photographs of the lanterns (some of which can be seen in the Illustrations). Along with us was most of the population of Hiroshima, going about things as the Japanese always do in large crowds without any antagonism or impatience. We could have written a message on a lantern to float down the river, but the queue was too long, so instead we just soaked up the pleasant atmosphere and took our time watching the people and the place. Given that I'm not really a pacifist, I have a small and faint belief that maybe the Americans were right in their reasons for using the bomb (at least, one of their reasons - not the one about 'experimenting'), and I have no hope that the world will ever be peaceful, my feelings about the whole issue of the bombing are kind of mixed. The Japanese seem to be almost universally completely opposed to war and proud of their army's special rules, and the time we live in here is called "The era of Peace", so they would probably not really agree with most of my opinions (but, thankfully, who does). Still, I have to agree with them - by any standards, Hiroshima is a unique tragedy, and it is as well that they have developed a unique way of commemorating it.

After this we repaired to a Spanish restaurant, where we ate snails and got drunk to celebrate my successful completion of my Japanese course. We walked home along the riverbanks and, lo and behold, further down the river at midnight we stumbled upon a workgang fishing the extinguished lanterns out of the river, obviously engaging in the usual Japanese zeal for recycling. The lanterns, along with their dreams of peace, had never reached the sea ...

Birthday 1

On Saturday night I went with my three Japanese friends to the local Tottori rugby pitch, which is near the pond, and had a premature birthday party. My birthday is, as everyone knows, on the 9th August; but since I was leaving Tottori on the 6th for a 3 week sojourn in Hiroshima and since Mr. Hiroki's birthday was on Sunday, it seemed necessary to have a little preliminary celebration before I left my only Japanese friends behind. We arrived at dusk, in time to witness the phenomenon of the leaping fish (which can be viewed on my illustrations), and commenced to chomp down on a pikuniku (picnic), which is everyone's favourite thing. Japanese summer evenings are very suited to picnics.

After picnic time it was necessary to indulge in the most important aspect of summer - hanabi, or fireworks (literally flowers of fire). For this post I have a picture of two of my friends, the inseparable Miss Kana and Miss Hiroko, lighting up their sparklers. There are many more pictures to illustrate the fun of sparklers in my illustrations - this is just my favourite because, I feel, well, taken. Miss Kana, who is from Hokkaido, is on the left, and Miss Hiroko (a Tottori native, I think) is on the right. They are 3rd year Agriculture students, and I met them in the English conversation class I was helping teach.

So there was general fun involving fire, and I received a present from the Inseparable Misses, a set of jinbe - kind of like pajamas, but for wearing during the day, consisting of a long pair of shorts and a jacket like a very thin karate jacket, made of course with some sort of rough cotton material with manly patterns on it (although don't be too fooled - in Japan pink is considered manly, since it is the colour of Cherry blossoms). The Jinbe are very comfortable in Japan's Brisbane-like summer heat, and definitely a fine present. Now I have 3 weeks without the beneficence of these 3 kind friends, though there absence will be more than compensated for by the attentions of the Delightful Miss E, with whom I am summering in Hiroshima. When I return to Tottori I may have as little as 2 weeks more in the company of my few and charming friends, though, so our parting was a little poignant. I hope I can find equally kind and patient friends in the wilds of Matsue ...

The Toilet from Hell

There come times in every young man's life when he is confronted with a terrible moral dilemma, to overcome which he must bring to bear all the considerable moral training his values-neutral Australian public school education has given him. Some moral conundra - for example, what to do when a chinese lady bursts into one's hotel room offering group sex with virgins for $20 - are so trivial as to be well beneath the prodigious skills that the aforementioned training in irreligious moral relativism grants one. Some moral dilemmas are so great, however, that one cannot bear under them alone and must share them with as many friends as possible. I now find myself faced with just such a dilemma, the terrible proportions of which cannot escape the kind thoughts of my distant interlocutors. Here I sit, holding in my (virtual) hands photographic evidence of the existence of Satan himself, but I am unsure whether to share it with you, my dear friend. This photograph is of Satan's own Commode, the very gaping maw from which he drew Judas' 30 pieces of silver (having dumped them in there first, of course); it is a perfect representation of the watery tempest in which the Spear of Destiny was washed after its first terrible use. Even though I feel in my very gut the urgency of telling my dear companions about this most amazing of discoveries, I am also aware that many of you may read this post soon after you have eaten dinner, or upon first reaching work, where not only will it cause you to lose your breakfast, but will also completely ruin your workday. Pity only can spare the sanity of those who view this photograph before going to bed - not for nothing do dark dreams of monsters in the water closet lurk in the primitive mind of all men, I have come to realise. Yet I must share with you the terrible apprehension of doom which the mere sight of Beelzebub's Bidet has inspired in me. Surely when (in) Conveniences such as this are placed on the earth, our Final Judgement - that Fateful Day - must be nigh upon us. Should I spare the lash or share the rash? This is my terrible moral dilemma.

Of course, I chose to take that path which grants me the most fame rather than that of rectitude, and so I here present to you the first and only photograph ever taken of Belial's Bog, along with a detailed description of its terrible features. Those of you weak stomachs (or bowels!), those who have just eaten, and those of you prone to bad dreams, had best avoid reading this post, and perhaps return to my blog in a week. If you were foolish enough to skip the first paragraph of this post on the assumption that it was stuffed full of prolix rubbish - well, you were right, but now you may pay for your sins! Always read my posts from the very start! Those of you who feel that a glimpse into the very depths of hell might affect your weak morals, bringing on a dizzy compulsion to murder and sin, please do not view this picture, for when you do you will find yourself staring into the heart of the Abyss, with all the terrible rewards and tortures that it promises. Tread carefully, lest the knowledge prove too compelling!

So with this warning I present to you: the toilet from hell. Other posts on my blog will give you some perspective in time and place for my discovery of this horrid, dank hole, so in this email I shall restrict myself to a description of the Mouth of the Beast itself.

Those of you who read my emails last year will recall my description of the daintier forms of Japanese toilet, and the myriad ways in which they represent the pinnacle of civilisation. You may recall that the range of toilets presented therein represented great proof of that old cliche that Japan is a fusion of the old and the modern. It is possible to find right next to the luxury toilet with seat-warmer, bidet, violet under-rim back-lighting and self-raising seat, an old-fashioned squat toilet. The latter is generally cleaner than its Chinese variant, but only so much can be done with such a thing. Satan's Sump represents an entirely different fusion of the modern and the ancient. Herein we find a combination of whirlpool jet, combined with the most abject mould, grime and filth, and a complete inability on the part of the designer to comprehend the daintier aspects of the human condition. Or at least, we would conclude that the design represented a deficiency in consideration of the needs of ordinary mortals, if we did not realise that the designer was that ultimate connosieur of the Abject, the Prince of Darkness himself.

So we move to a discussion of the fine details of this terrible device. First we note that the bowl is black, which has made the photograph difficult to peruse - but so the Prince of Darkness hides his wicked designs, and there is no mortal camera work which can penetrate the gloom which surrounds this waterfall. Note that even the deep black of the bowl is insufficient to hide the grime, mould, grease and ill humours collecting thereabouts - they are such a lurid brown that they seem to glow from within the toilet bowl. In the midsection of the rim, on left and right, you will see what appear to be teeth protruding into the bowl. These are actually the nozzles for two powerful water jets, the spurt from which can be seen spiralling into the bowl. These water jets are constant, my friends, not a consequence of my having hit the flush button. There are no buttons on this toilet, merely a vicious, toothy aperture into which ones basest offerings merge with the flow of evil. I ask the ladies reading this (if they have not fainted on sight of the picture) - would you settle your delicate and sweetly-fragranced nether regions onto this cascade of decay and festering evil? I ask my male readers - would you dangle your most valued extremity wilfully into this ferocious gap? (Bear in mind as well that the picture gives no sense of scale, and the bowl is actually rather small...). What need has Satan to send his insidious agents scouring the land for the souls of the weak, when by means of these toilets he can snatch off the heart of their manhood, and have it swirl straight into Hell? What worth a man's soul, when he has been castrated by the Devil's Dunny? I would wager that this toilet has never felt the cold, hard pressure of a man's firm buttocks; nor has it ever known the warm and soothing pleasure of a naked lady in its lap. No, this is a toilet for snipers and grenadiers, one to be pierced by accurate shots from afar, or bombarded from a safe distance with the aid of carefully placed forward observers ...

I have only seen one instance of this Davy Jones Locker in all my time in Japan, but its presence, and the noxious atmosphere of evil which surround it, have led me to a terrible realisation. It is said that Satan presents himself in the guise of Light, coming to those who least suspect him as a delicate maiden or sweetly fragranced sheep, and telling truths with the intent to decieve; and as this toilet is a clear representation of Satan's most direct and evil countenance, perhaps then those other, sweet smelling and eternally pure toilets which I had the pleasure of experiencing in Hiroshima were actually also his agents, stealing my manhood with their gentle ministrations. You will recall my fear of their rising waters...

I am now as a man who suddenly wakes to find himself surrounded by the messengers of his greatest foe, seeing everywhere agents of his enemy ... what should I do when even at my most vulnerable I cannot be sure if I deal fairly with the works of men, or engage in intercourse with servants of Hell ... oh help me, gentle reader, for I am lost in a land of strange artifices, and my soul itself is their fuel!!!!

Summer in the shadow of the Mountains

Now that things are finishing here in Tottori, one of our teachers has decided he should orient us to the Tottori region. A trifle late, I'm sure you can all agree, but I am not objecting since he is allowed to use a University van to drive us to various crazy places. Today we went to Uradome beach, and then to Amadaki (which simply means rain waterfall, I think), where we took many pointless pictures. Uradome beach is quite stunning, and can be viewed in the associated Illustrations. The sea at Uradome is completely still, so still that a trio of girls were floating about 300m from the beach on big blow-up rings without any fear of losing control - probably they wouldn't even get their hair wet if they fell out either, since the sea was so shallow. This sort of sea is just fine with me.

The waterfalls were beautiful too, although our teacher worked us into a fine story with tales of the bears which roam the area looking for hapless foreigners to eat. It was also very hot, although around the waterfall it was a lot cooler. Near the waterfall was a little buddha shrine, a picnic area and a famous tofu restaurant (which we didn't visit). Amadaki is another example of how rapidly Japan becomes wild after one leaves the cities - this place is half an hours' drive from Tottori on winding country roads (maybe 17 kms as the kurasu flies), but completely silent and haunted by bears and wild boar. There is a winding track which leads up to a 1300m mountain top (we didn't walk this - it was too hot), and the stream is completely clean and free of rubbish. If one has a car in this country it is very easy to do a morning jaunt into the wilds, wrestle a few bears and be back in time for rice cakes and tea at lunch. I shall have to try it someday ...

Hapless Happyou

And so it has come to an end, barring one rather dubious Kanji test that I have to sit through tomorrow and which I am supposedly preparing for tonight. My final presentation was yesterday, and from my expression of stunned relief in this picture it should be obvious that it went well. Or at least acceptably. The two women flanking me are my teachers (on the left, Otachi Sensei - on the right, Mori Sensei). A cheerful pair they are too. Mori Sensei is a seriously committed surfer, and Otachi Sensei a 2nd Dan in Kyudo (the Japanese archery martial art). Between them they could be Legolas.

Anyway, my final presentation (Happyou) went well. I talked about all the most important Australian topics - me, Uluru, the landscape, Aboriginal rights, and sport. For my 'famous Australians' section I chose Ian Thorpe, the Bee Gees, Kathy Freeman, and Edward Florey (I couldn't bear to have Nicole Kidman and I had to have a scientist). Some Japanese people know the movie Saturday Night Fever, so all is not lost on this side of the Pacific. Everyone here knows Ian Thorpe, he is a national hero. After these sections I had to talk about my research, but it was only 3 slides.

Questions (all in Japanese) included "why is the Australian national team always in Green and Yellow" (yes, folks, no-one is fooled into thinking it is Gold); "why didn't you show the Australian flag" (I didn't use the flag in my presentation, and when I described it everyone laughed, but I put up the Aboriginal flag during the two slides on Aboriginal rights - a decision I only made because I didn't want to put up a picture of rural Aboriginal living conditions); "since you are a citizen of three nations, which one is your favourite" (I said 'the world'); "what is your favourite Japanese food" (I said Nattou); and (the doozy) "can you explain the difference between Aussie Rules Football and Football?" Which I answered as best I could with an explanation of the two goals and the concept of the Mark. I didn't mention the bits where people get torn limb from limb and thrown into the crowd, or the excessive amounts of fighting. I thought I'd gone far enough by explaining that Australians prefer violent sports ...

So, now it is official - I can spin bullshit in two languages. I think this must mean the world is my Oyster!