opinios

A Letter To Japan

Dear Japan,

After two and a half years of living with you, today I return to Australia. At this point I have a confession to make:

I feel numb.

I know I should feel sad, and of course I do when I consider how many fantastic friends I am leaving behind. But it is time and it feels right and there are a few things about you that I won't miss.

There's something else I should you tell you too. I hope you don't get jealous but I ran off with your sister a few weeks ago. Yes, I spent two weeks in China and had a terrific time. But since coming back to you things have been a bit strange and so there are some things that I need to tell you.

All of my friends told me that as time ran out I would feel a sudden urgency to get as much done in you as possible before I leave, to photograph all of you before it is too late... but it hasn't been like that at all.

I'm totally ready and now am just going through the motions, like I'm on auto pilot. Of course I'll miss you and your people, but not immediately. Right now there is still a lot of packing and cleaning to be done. Every time I lug a heavy box down to the post office the shipping cost kills me. I wonder whether it would be more worth my while to throw out that last box of clothes and buy new ones when I get back, rather than spend $100 sending them home... but I struggle to throw away perfectly good clothes and you don't seem to have any Salvation Army stores or thrift shops [update: apparently there is a Salvation Army, I just found out about it too late].

Settling final bills and cancelling contracts with internet providers, mobile phone companies and the like has been nothing short of a big fat migraine. Returning back from China to discover a rental video that I had forgotten to return had accumulated over 4,000 yen in late fees (the weekly fee is compounded daily) was, as you can imagine, a rude shock (when I considered not paying, the store politely informed me that the fee would continue to increase and another customer could not rent out the video until I paid it, even if I had already returned the damn thing!! And I didn't even watch the damn thing, it was Kim's movie!!!)

Anyway, all this administrivia crap will soon be a distant memory and I am sure once I have actually left you for good, there will be a huge feeling of elation. Maybe you will feel it too, that feeling that comes with closure. I know it is nigh and it will probably hit me once I am back and set foot on a beach. I have always felt that connection with Australian beaches, you can't beat em. Yes, you have Mount Fuji, but it just aint the same for me.

No, my imminent departure won't be sad. It will just be the right time. I mean, I have realised that for every adventurous soul who is prepared to take up the challenge of surviving in a foreign country where the language, culture, food, everything is different, there are 40 awesome fantastic fun individuals to make you feel welcome and to make the whole experience much more manageable, but it is definitely time.

So please don't cry. I won't.

Oops - Wrong Directions!

I was asked for directions by someone at Ikebukuro station yesterday.

Mark was a North American guy who wanted to know which side of the station "the statue" was on. I knew exactly what he meant - on the East side of Ikebukuro is a brown statue that reminds me of the painful, contorted figures on display at the Dachau concentration camp in Germany.

The problem is, he caught me at a bad time.

I had just paid the last instalment of Kim and my resident's tax at the ward office (always love handing over $700 to the government), then hurried to the travel agent to pick up my plane tickets for the flight to Australia, and was hoping to make it home in time to pack a couple more boxes and cart them off to the post office before it closed. I was a bit... distracted.

Sorry for telling you that it is on the West exit, Mark. Really, I hate it when I ask people for directions and they tell me the wrong thing. I know that the distance between the West and East exit is a good 10 minute walk and as a result of my misinformation you probably spent 20 minutes wandering around cursing me. I have lived in this area for two and a half years and should have known better.

Oops. Sorry Mark, wherever you are.

Taoist Karma

In Qing Dao, Kim and I had some time to kill. We were supposed to meet up with my cousin's wife's parents but, for a number of reasons (which I will probably go into in another post) circumstance conspired against us and we ended up going for a stroll in the woods instead.

We caught a local bus out to Lao Shan (Mount Lao), a Taoist sacred site, and began the stroll up the mountain. Being off season, the cable car wasn't running, but the walk and fresh air did us some good. Sure, there was the occasional hawker to deal with, but they weren't as persistent as ones we'd dealt with in Beijing, so the serenity of being surrounded by nature and away from the city was not lost.

Partway up, after convincing the local hopefuls that we didn't in fact need a guide to climb the rest of this mountain, Kim stopped to rest her knee (what would they have told us? Follow this path. Keep following. Keep going, that's it!) In the distance I spotted some huge boulders with Chinese characters etched into them, marking the top of Pantao Peak, and decided to see if I could get to the top of the peak and give Kim a wave from afar.

Further on, more hawkers used wire to string beads and shells across the walking trail on the off chance that I might feel the urge to capture the moment with a souvenir. I dutifully ignored them and instead wandered off the track in an attempt to climb the rocks. What can I say, it was a beautiful day and I have always loved a good clamber. I don't know whether it is bad karma to climb on sacred Taoist boulders or not, but I figured the view would be worth it from the top.

Unfortunately about halfway up I had to turn back, as things were getting too damn treacherous. What good would a photo looking down on the valley be if I didn't actually live to post it on the web for you all to see?

It was on the way back to the trail that I walked into the wire.

At first I thought someone had whacked me over the head. My glasses flew off and landed on the ground, and it was a few seconds before I realized that I had connected with one of the low-hanging wires that was once used by someone to hang souvenirs for sale, but was currently empty and existed only to serve as a trap for curious tourists. My glasses were scratched up beyond repair and I felt a twinge of guilt, like it was some Taoist karma coming back at me for trying to climb the sacred boulders.

That'll teach me.

Is China All Grown Up?

China is an abused child, and it is growing up to be an abusive parent.

Soldiers controlling the visitors to Mao's mausoleum use booming 100 decibel megaphones to berate anyone carrying a camera or any kind of luggage who tries to get in to where the wax dummy revered late leader lays, (even though there are no signs anywhere with any information about what you are and are not allowed to take in, even in Chinese!)

And of course, the most logical place to check your luggage while visiting Mao is on the other side of the main road, of which where there are no pedestrian lights to cross!

While we were waiting for our overnight train in Datong, a woman with a megaphone screamed at people who were lining up, who weren't lining up, who were lying on the ground. She may also have been screaming out some information pertaining to train departure/arrival times, but it all sounded like one big nasty whinging loud complaint.

Have a little self-respect, people! You don't deserve to be treated like this!

As a result of years of being abused, people push past you on the street in China, they clamber through you to get on the train when you are getting off, they cut right in front of you in a queue, and abuse each other left right and centre in the street. Chinese is an angry language.

Of course its all very well for me to say "stand up to this nonsense" but when the body you are standing up to is the communist government who sets this example, and it means putting your life on the line, what are you gonna do?

I guess I don't blame them.

Happy Birthday...

...to Kim and my buddy Jeremy who I am looking forward to seeing very soon. Hope you both have a fabulous day.

Also a big congratulations to my brother Scott and his girlfriend Jude for the birth of their bouncing baby boy Blake last week while we were in China. Scott has put a bunch of photos up on the web for friends and family to see, he is a very cute baby indeed and I am looking forward to meeting the little tacker in a couple of weeks too.

Yes I know I promised you more China stories yesterday, but I have a good excuse or three:

1. Kim is hogging the computer writing her own version of our trip (check it out because she can be bothered uploading all of the photos we took, and I can't)
2. Kim has pinched all my stories and written about them already (ok, I know, first in best dressed. But I still have a couple more up my sleeve)
3. My buddy Doug who I haven't seen in 3 years and his lovely girlfriend Mary were in town for just one day so I spent the whole day showing them the sights and getting drunk with them

Try again here tomorrow. You never know your luck in the big city.

Zhang Jiu Gong

As mentioned previously, Kim and I visited the section of the Great Wall near Huang Hua. This stretch is much less developed than other parts - there is no cable car, a lot of the wall is still in its original state of rubble - and there are (thankfully) hardly any tourists.

But there are no escaping the entrepeneurs.

An otherwise Zen-like view of the wall as it meanders through the mountains was constantly interrupted by the constant pressure to buy water, medals, t-shirts, postcards and books. And on top of this some cheeky "wardens" were charging 2 Yuan to pass past various points or to climb up ladders for a better view.

I don't know if these "officials" were legitimately collecting money to restore the wall or just capitalizing on the naivete of unwitting foreigners, but considering that 2 Yuan weighs in at, oh about 33 cents, I wasn't too upset about handing it over. These guys probably hike up here from their home town every day, a few hours walk, to try and make a bit of cash out of the tourists so that they can try and alleviate their personal situation (which, judging by the way they were dressed, is pretty extreme poverty).

I got chatting to one such entrepeneur at the very top of a particularly steep stretch that was lined with labourers shovelling built-up dirt of the wall. His name wa Zhang Jiu Gong, and his English wasn't that much better than my Chinese (I speak about 5 words) but with gestures and context we were able to communicate a few basic things.

Zhang was an interesting character. He reeked of Vodka. The skin on his face was dark and leathery from untold hours in the sun, and he had an infectious laugh. When he turned on the entrepeneurial spirit I was more than happy to buy some of his postcards for 3 Yuan (I probably would have paid three times that if I had bought them anywhere else) and we formed a rudimentary friendship high above the rolling hills and cherry blossoms. It was quiet and peaceful and the two of us stood at the corner of a secluded turret to admire the stunning view.

As I turned to leave, Zhang wanted me to know his name, and wanted to learn mine. He tried to write his name on a piece of paper for me, but his pen kept running out, so I offered him mine. We shook hands and I insisted he keep the pen (I think it was a very plain, black BIC biro that probably originally belonged to my previous employer in Japan). He was eternally grateful and bid me farewell.

But when I had walked about 20 metres away I heard him call my name, and came running to me. His face was contorted with frustration and it was clear that something was wrong. When he got up close he thrust the 3 Yuan I had given him for the postcards into my hand and ran off. I was bewildered and tried to offer it back to him, but he was not having it.

"Pen, pen" he replied, and was insistent.

There was nothing I could do but just stand there, dumbfounded. I felt terribly guilty, like I had damaged his pride. 3 Yuan meant so little to me and so much to him, but this proud man had already marched back up to his turret to assume his position for the next tourist who came along.

I turned to one of the labourers, the look on my face searching for some kind of explanation. But the guy just shrugged, as if to say, "Don't worry about it. He's a drunk", and went back to his shovelling.

Stay tuned for more China stories tomorrow...

Kanji Saves My Arse

I am so glad that I put in so many hours studying Japanese over the past couple of years, it actually really helped me in China.

So many Chinese characters and Japanese kanji are identical or at least similar, so even if I wasn't able to speak a damn word, I could at least make out the meaning of road signs, buildings, street names, and much more. Some were a little different, but there really is a lot of overlap. I guess it is analogous to the cultural differences between English-speaking countries: if an American was to ask for a drug store in Australia, people would probably chuckle a little but know what you meant, and then direct you to the nearest chemist.

The interesting thing about the Japanese kanji characters is that they are more Chinese than Chinese. It's true - the Japanese kanji were adopted from the Chinese, but after that happened the Chinese went and simplified a lot of their characters. On several occasions when I was trying to communicate something I would get a smirk from the Chinese person I was showing it to, because it was an "old-fashioned" character that isn't in use in China any more.

As Kim mentioned, in China I used the ability to communicate by writing to make a few friends, but more importantly: being able to write kanji really saved my arse, in more than one predicament.

Kanji Saved My Arse #1
Kim and I were in Datong, starving, and keen to get us some Mongolian Hot Pot action. The staff of the restaurant we wandered into were a bit perplexed about how to deal with a couple of foreigners, and in true Chinese fashion were not shy about revealing their disgust at our inability to communicate, with an impatient sigh and a roll of the eyes.

But when I convinced them to show us a menu, I was at least able to recognize that some of the options were beef, chicken, lamb, pork or vegetables, and with a bit of pointing we soon had ourselves a delicious boiling feast in front of us. Yum.

Kanji Saved My Arse #2
The Great Wall at Huang Hua was spectacular. But getting there was actually rather difficult.

After a trying combination of taxis, public buses and uncomfortable toilets, we still had to negotiate with the local minibus drivers hanging around the station in Huairou how to get out to the wall. Of course, that bit was easy enough, the only reason foreigners go to Huairou is to go and see the wall. But we wanted to deviate from the regular request - Kim had a headache, and after a week of rice we were craving some KFC. With a bit of kanji I was able to jot down our requirements (listed in the order that we required them)

1. Pharmacy
2. KFC
3. Great Wall

and negotiate a price. And off our driver took us to the pharmacy for some Tylenol. Problem solved.

Kanji Saved My Arse #3
The biggest saving of gluteus maximus occurred when I left my glasses case on the train after an overnighter from Beijing to Qing Dao. Inside that case was also a memory stick for the digital camera (those things sometimes cost more than a camera itself). But do you think I could come up with simple enough English or combination of gestures to describe this fact to the station staff? Lost Property? Left Luggage? Forgotten Bag? My Case. Is In The Train. Nope, she didn't understand any of it. And wouldn't let me back on the train as the cleaners were going through it.

I was really sweating here, until I jotted down the equivalent in Japanese (wasuremono). The word is obviously something quite different in Chinese, but it was close enough for her to frown at it for a few seconds before going "Ohhhh" as the penny dropped, and five minutes later she returned with my case and asked "Is this yours?"

Thank god for kanji. Well, thank the Chinese, actually. You know what I mean.

Catching My Breath

Just flew in from Beijing this afternoon and have one helluva task ahead of me trying to capture the last two weeks we spent travelling around China (part of that struggle includes battling Kim for the computer!)

We haven't unpacked yet but I am showered and feeling rested, so will try and post as much over the next few days as possible while it is all still fresh. Of course Kim is one step ahead and has already begun her much more thorough narrative and uploaded most of her photos. It's a tough act to follow.

Before I begin the stories though, I want to do this fun little exercise.

Keith and Drew told me to:

1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 23.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the sentence in your journal along with these instructions.

The book is John Bailey's The White Divers Of Broome:

Six weeks of steady diving went on, and after 'their ears were broken,' the Sooloo men did fairly well.

I received this book as a Christmas present from Kim's mother a couple of years ago, and have been meaning to read it ever since, but it just sat on the backburner as web site projects, bass guitar practice and other books got in the way. I was about halfway through it when we left for China, and for some reason didn't take it with me on the trip (oh how I longed for it on that 14 hour overnight train from Qing Dao...) Anyway, it is an amazing and rich portrait of a colonial town with a fascinating history, and I am going to pick up where I left off to read myself to sleep tonight.

Tune in tomorrow for the first instalment of the trip to China.

In Your Face

Have a couple of hours to kill in Beijing before we catch a train to Qing Dao, so thought I would post a little snippet. Kim and I are having the time of our life, I can't believe we haven't visited China until now. I have so many stories to relay already, but you'll have to wait for when we get back to hear them I'm afraid. For now let me confirm that China so far has been everything I have expected and more. Louder, grander, cheaper, pushier, quainter, weirder, more majestic and far more surprising. It couldn't be more different from Japan.

Have taken hundreds of photos and loads of video footage already, but let me sort through all them when we get back and give you your fix in steady, measured doses. Until then, zaijian!