Come along 'n ride...

... this fantastic voyage...

Yep, there are two other ways to train travel in China- possibly where you get to see the "real" China. The "soft seat" and the "hard seat". From Xian to Chengdu we chose the former as you get an actual seat, the latter is a matter of ambushing the seats of departing passengers. Quite a sight to see grown men fighting over a space the size of a cinema seat! (This option is obviously way cheaper than the sleepers). However, sixteen hours is too long to spend sitting on your butt while people are spitting on the floor, throwing litter out the window, being crowded in by differing levels of stink and seeing the different manner in which parents/guardians feed or water their children. Some of which is disturbing to my much sheltered and naive eye. There are "No Spitting" and "No Smoking" signs but these appear not to be "rules" but more of a "general guideline". So like the "hard sleeper" it kind of has a marae feel (in terms of socializing) but is a lot more paru (dirty).
There is little or no AC in these carriages (in part perhaps due to the sheer amount of people on the train) so fans have been life-savers! A friend gifted us some Japanese fans for which we have been very grateful, but which the hawkers have been most disappointed to see.
Arriving in Chengdu at 0530 we had been told there would be a rep there to pick us up but due to the hour we were holding out little hope. So pessimistic! We quickly spotted the sign, were just as quickly accosted by another hostel's rep, and quickly lost our rep. Both the sign and the rep had disappeared!! A movement in the peripheral, and we had found him again! Hurrah! We caught up to him in time to hear a couple say "We didn't order a free pickup". Hello? Are you mad? It's FREE!! Well he couldn't understand it either, and assuming we were Chinese (as happens more often than not, especially for my mate) preceeded to berate their foolishness (in Chinese), we couldn't agree more! So he helped us with our gear and we sped to our hostel. In the breaking daylight the area looked quite old and majestic, there's a monestary close by, and even at that hour vendors were peddling their wares. Upon arriving at the hostel, we met the foolish couple who had paid for a taxi to get there. Yes we could hardly believe it either.
As the hostel was full and our room still occupied we had to crash in a recently vacated one. And crash we did.
Lights out. Night night. Sweet dreams.

A different Xian

The Muslim Quarter. A fantastic place! Lots of markets, lots of food, gorgeous old buildings and lots of hawkers. Simply Super! The highlight of our stay in Xian. The smells, both good and bad, the exploitation of children, quite an experience for a night. The exploitation falls into two categories: "cute and clean" vs "dirty and desperate". They sell flowers. The "cute 'n clean" lot have what look like fresh flowers. The others have withered remains and hang around for longer after you say "no". Although my heart goes out to these kids, I refuse to support their continued exploitation. After all they are only 4-6yrs old and only doing what they're told.
So we wandered through the markets full of little trinkets and many a dried fruit. Quite a colourful wee market it was. We passed an experienced foreign haggler who was doing an excellent job, much to the dismay of the stall operator. And a couple of not-so-experienced hagglers, much to the joy of the stall operator.
Feeling a bit peckish we headed into a "hotpot" restaurant. Bit of a boo-boo that one. We were told that these restaurants are usually real cheap. What people forgot to mention was "if you don't buy the extras". So of course I purchased the extras. What should have been a cheap meal ended up costing us a small fortune (relatively speaking) and we had spent half an hour melting beside the "hotpot".
Quite a busy night. But after the dinner, very happy to get back to air con.
Even the nights here are humid beyond everything previoulsy experienced!
By gum! Bring on the beach!!

Attention!

After heeding the warnings about the various tours to see the Terracotta Warriors we headed out there on our own. Its way out in the countryside. On the bus journey there you pass numerous shops that are selling full size replicas of the statues. Pretty much you see the museum on the way there due to these road-side shops. When you arrive at the museum drop off point, you are immediately pounced upon by "guides". Some are official, some are not. The non-official ones confidently explain there are no English translations and they speak excellent English etc, etc, etc. Of course at your dismissal of their services they then try to sell you stuff. Enterprising to the end.
At the bus drop off point there's a shuttle that can take you to the actual entrance to the museum. This way you avoid the hawkers along the footpath. And you avoid melting in the heat. Hindsight is always a wonderful thing. Yep we chose the melting human way.
After avoiding the guides, we entered the museum and relative relief in the "pits". Nice and cool in there. It was pretty impressive to see all of these statues standing to attention. Pity the poor buggers who had to haul all of these things here though. And what does it say about the Emperor? Slightly obsessive perhaps?
There are signs everywhere that say excavation is still in progress, yet the official photos from the past look suspiciously similar to what we saw. Progress must be very slow indeed. But in the smaller pits its really cool to see the reliefs of the wooden stuff that was there; chariot wheels, roof beams etc. The details on the statues are amazing as are the weapons. And considering this whole thing is a couple of thousand years old, the shear man power and technology involved is mind-boggling. Especially when I consider what my ancestors were doing two thousand years ago...
Impressive as it was, I wasn't as gob-smacked as I thought I would be. Perhaps in part 'cos I was hot 'n hoha, or perhaps 'cos the warriors on display are replicas. Age, fire and nature having reduced the original clay warriors to pieces over the years. Taking away that "X" factor for me. Appreciation of the artisans work and the slaves sheer fortitude can never be taken away. Even the Enperor's image of grandeur can be admired.

Impressive, yes. Would I go back? Hmmm...

Xian ho！

Making the move from Beijing to Xian can be easily done one of two ways; 1) the soft sleeper: a rather comfy non-smoking 4 person compartment, and 2) the hard sleeper: a not so comfy 6 person area with no privacy. Very similar to sleeping on a marae. Kids crying and screaming at all hours, people snoring, oldies (or in this country, everyone) hacking up their lungs, music blaring, people walking round bumping into things...
You get the picture. Only its happeining with 3 tiered bunks as opposed to mattresses side by side.
The soft sleeper is the better option for a better nights sleep on longer journeys. The hard sleeper is the poorer man's option (me) but offers a much more disturbed slumber. So thirteen hours after leaving Beijing we arrived in Xian. A drizzly day greeted us and at seven o'clock in the morning, it already seemed awfully warm.
Finding our hostel's rep was a bit of a mish, should've just followed all the other people with backpacks and we would've found him earlier! Arriving at our hostel we discovered the construction site out front- lovely early morning wake up call I imagine- and joy of all joys; a squat bloody toilet!! Not a big fan of these let me tell you.
However never mind the bladder, first order of the day- shower! The drizzle that was going on outside was probably a lot more than what was happening with the water in that shower. But I was clean and smelling much better than before so I was happy.
Next order of the day- haircut. Ever got a haircut in a foreign country where they usually spend all day in the salon? No? Well neither had I. Until now. All I wanted was a damn cut. Just a cut. Nothing else. Just cut it off!
Well! After I showed them the cut I wanted, and they spent ten minutes washing my hair and massaging my scalp, (and trying to get me to coulour my hair) they called the actual hairdresser over. At which point he promptly told me he couldn't give me the cut I wanted 'cos my hair wasn't straight enough. He needed to give it some "medicine" to make it smoother. This of course was going to triple the price of the hair cut. (All of this came via the very good English of the daughter of another customer) I told her to tell him to just cut it. She did and that was the last I saw of her. I don't think he (the hairdresser) was impressed with her sales pitch.
Anyway he chopped away at my hair in a very flamboyant fashion with his long fingernails and very silver scissors. I thought he was doing quite well, there was a good shape and the stlye seemed somewhat conservative but I was happy. He however, was not. I have a "cowlick". He was frustrated by this. He tried cutting away at it. He tried snipping away at it. He tried blowdrying it in a gentle manner. In the end he held my hair practically in the drier with a brush and got the desired effect- straight hair!! Meantime of course it was all I could do to not wet myself with laughter at the look on his face! Priceless! Next time they see a foreigner outside their shop I don't think they'll be quite so keen to open the door. All in all my haircut experience was a success- I got a good "do", I had a bit of a laugh, and got to experience a cut that took about as long as an average "cut 'n colour" would take. Marvelous! And for only roughly JPY300 (approx USD3)!
Ya just gotta love it!!

A Peddling we will go...

Well never did get round to biking Beijing, but managed to do a peddling of sorts. On a lake.
Yep our last day in Beijing saw us take a peddle boat out onto the lake of "BeiHai Park". Very tranquil and picturesque. If you take away the smog that was shrouding everything and the crazy guys in their speedboats. It was a very family affair. Lots of children out with parents and grandparents, piloting their peddle boats or their battery powered ones. Almost a Victorian atmosphere to the whole thing. All that was missing were the parasols and bonnets. The mandatory row boats were out in force aswell. Super!!
It is very easy to meander around the park. A gentle stroll around the lake is all that is needed to take you back in time. And for the ones looking for a bit more exercise and a bit of a view, a wee hike up the hill to the "White Pagoda" is all that is needed. On a beautiful clear day I'm sure the view is astounding. However today, the horizon was smog-filled and you could not see much past the end of an outstretched arm.
All in all though, it was a perfectly peaceful end to a wonderful few days in Beijing.

Ahhh... Bless!

The Greatest 10km of my life... (so far)

Oh dear God!
I did it! I bloody walked along the Great Wall of China! And today I have the shot archilles to prove it.
"It'll take 4hrs" they said. We had been warned that it was tough and in parts dangerous. But being typical kiwis we of course underestimated it. Thinking it would be a leisurely stroll along a crumbling ruin, I set out in high spirits. Of course when you have to rest on the stairs leading up to the wall, you begin to rethink exactly how leisurely this is all going to be. Now as most of the people who know me are aware, I don't exercise. At all. In fact you could almost say I am allergic to it. So huffing and puffing my way up the trail to get to the wall, I was lamenting my lack of affinity with anything requiring physical exersion.
We had 4 hours to complete 10km of tough up and down hiking. Relatively speaking tough I mean. No doubt for the fit buggers out there it was a leisurely stroll in the sunshine.
So we set a quick pace for ourselves, followed along by hawkers of course. At first they were just annoying as all hell but eventually they grew on us and we enjoyed their company. They didn't speak that much English, but made us laugh and gave us encouragement when needed.
It took 1hr 30mins to get half way. Hurrah!
We thought it would only get easier it all being downhill from now on. Alas, we were mistaken. Going down was harder than coming up. The going down bit was hardly restored at all so it was a case of constantly watching where you put your feet. After getting rid of the first two hawkers, we acquired two more. These two were not as much fun and much more agressive in their sales pitch. Eventually we did manage to get rid of them aswell and enjoyed a realtively more peaceful descent to the end.
Don't you just hate it when the end is in sight and you get that little extra burst of energy, only for it to be taken away when you see exactly how high that end is? Yes we had made it to the bit before the end. The end required an almost herculean effort and perserverance. When you are completely cream crackered after three and a half hours of the most exercise you have done in at least 3years, a 70 degree ascent seemed very cruel. But it was done. With little fanfare. And surprisingly willing legs. I almost wished for a catastrophe- a fantastic photo it would have made and a great story!

The Forboden Zone

Wednesday saw us head into the Forbidden City.
I was expecting (perhaps unrealistically in this day and age) everything to be "as it was". The smell of fresh paint in the air and bright red walls quickly put paid to that little fantasy. Fair dues, they are getting it ready for the Olympics but when everything looks so new it takes away from the character and charm of the place.
However, after my initial disappointment, faith was restored as we headed further into the heart of the City. You can smell the dust, the wood, the peeling paint is gorgeous, the faded upholestry wonderful. You can let your imagination fill in the blanks.
It is H U G E. And a bit like the Louvre- overwhelming. After seeing so many artifacts, and so many buildings (apparently all of which at one stage housed an emporer) it all starts to blend into one another. But there were plenty of places to rest and catch your breath or just to get out of the sun. When the Olympics come round, that place is gonna be inundated.
The hawkers abound here aswell. Selling maps, books and postcards of the Forbidden City. My favourite however was the Mao watch. I just couldn't pass that up! I'm pretty sure I got ripped off, but hey! It's a MAO watch! And he's waving at you quite happily from his little glass prison.
One thing you notice about Beijing is the shear size of the place. Tianemen Square is simply ginormous, and the roads are incredibly spacious. All of this gives you the impression that Beijing is no more populated than Auckland or Hiroshima. Quite obviously impossible! The only spaces here that "bustle" are the Hutongs. These are the more "traditional" parts of Beijing. Little inter-connecting alleyways with great little shops and stalls selling all kinds of wares. Children running about (or arguing about "fair share"), old codgers playing mahjong, handymen peddling their trade, community gatherings in the local communal outdoor gym. It all happens here. If you ever come to Beijing, get lost for a day in the Hutong, you won't regret it.

China the introduction

Our first introduction to Chinese-English was had on the plane with the chief cabin attendant. All we heard was "chinese, chinese, chinese, Pay Attention!" Well of course we sat up and paid attention but it appeared that that was the end of the English.
Upon arriving in Shanghai, it quickly dawned on us that in order to get any information or help at the airport we had to be in need of something from them. Asking for directions resulted in "down there" accompanied by a vague hand gesture and then followed up smartly with a "you go". After the bending-over-backwards customer service of Japan, this was an incredible "welcome to the rest of the world's customer service, you spoiled so-and-so's" rude awakening.
Chinese-English is not as polished as the Japanese I would say. I liken the Chinese-English to kids who want something NOW, and the Japanese-English to the chastened elder who is calmly waiting for the spoiled child to grow up.
Chinese itself sounds aggressive to the untrained ear. You can hear people having a discussion but from the tone and general vehenemence of the language you would swear someone had just been wronged by someone else.
All this gained from just one day in Shanghai and most of that in the train station. Yes we spent 5hrs escaping the sun, the smog, the beggars and the hawkers in the waiting lounge. Lazy perhaps, but when you are stink and tired the last thing you want to do is go exploring.
The train journey itself was uneventful. Managed to have a conversation in Japanese with a Chinese woman though, learnt some Chinese which was promptly forgotten.
And arrived in Beijing to discover the whole "Information" counter thing doesn't really exist here either. Walking out into the heat and smog saw us surrounded in no time by hawkers selling hotels. Too rich for our blood. We had bought a map of Beijing through some most bizzare hand signals which we later discovered were representative of a numerical amount, and were attempting to navigate our way to a hostel, which was in an unknown area. Some woman managed to sell us on a hostel so we plodded after her thinking that the price was a bit too much. She then palmed us off to a male companion (husband perhaps?) and we flatly refused to get into a taxi. Hoping the long walk would make him bugger off, we went into another, much cheaper hostel at which point he demanded payment for services rendered. Too tired and hot to care by this stage we paid him and went and had a wonderful shower.

Welcome to China...

Last minute mayhem

It seems the only thing that went right when departing Japan was being at the bus station on time on Sunday night! Man! From there it went pretty much downhill pretty quickly. Bloody fantastic!!
Upon arrival at the airport, there seemed to occur a number of brain exploisions. The first one being the lack of ability to read any signs- although they were in plain English. This resulted in us waiting at the wrong check in counter, and being shuffled along. When we eventually found the correct one (just next door- yes you read it right!) we were the first in line. Wo-hoo!! Once we were all checked in so began our mad dash to get some brekkie, change some money and cancel our cellfones. Begin as you mean to go on the say, and so began our "Keystone Cops" mini-adventure!

After changing the money (which took some time as the powers that be made sure 1) that we had the amount of yen on us that we were changing (hello? dah!!) and 2) that we were sure that we were changing the yen into the correct currency (again... hello? dah!)), we then proceeded to cancel the cellfones. Which we had been informed earlier couldn't be done until 10am although the shop opened at 9am- a note here: Vodafone is the only shop that opens at 9am, the others are all open by 830am- obviously we thought this was complete bollocks and so it turned out to be. The lovely lady cancelled our phones in 10mins and bid us adieu.

Did I forget to mention that we had to board our flight by 930am? And we still had not gone through immigration?

First I had to make it through the x-ray machine. Usually no big deal. Wrong. My bag was put through the machine twice. Someone was called over to scrutinise the images. They let it go. Wrong. A woman came hurtling towards me in a very Japanese panic (really very mild, almost like an agitated state for others) and asked if I had nail clippers in my bag. Well! Yep I did and had plum forgot about them. She asked politely to see them and explained under regulations blah, blah, blah. Yeah take them I said. Just let me get on my plane!!

So making our way down to the immigration counter we (not me) proceeded through with little fanfare. Not me. Upon my gaijin card being demanded back (ID card for all foreigners in Japan) I politely told her I had checked it. Stupid. She promptly picked up the phone and I was escorted to a room with other "undesirables". Of course I hadn't checked it I just wanted it as a souvenir. Stupid. It was in my wallet. Which I had misplaced. And couldn't find. Anywhere. Paying little attention to the officer, jumping to all the worst case scenarios possible, all of my belongings were being unceremoniously dumped on their table in a very cartoon-esque fashion. My main thought being making the flight, nothing else mattered. With absolute relief the offending item was retrieved and surrended to the very polite official, who then made me sign something (I don't know what) then pointed out that such-in-such was cancelled and blah, blah, blah... She then lead me through a door and let me go on my merry way. My mate was standing outside cracking up laughing. Yes it was a helluva joke apparently.

And still we are not finished...

Having JPY4000 to spend we decided to get some food and bits n bobs to spend all of our last yen. It was now 920am and we were nowhere near our departure gate. In a sort of a hurried amble we bought our goodies and boarded the shuttle tram thingy to the gate. There was a big line at what we assumed was our gate. Brain exploision. That whole reading signs thing again. It seemed our entire flight was on the plane. Except us. The ground staff appeared unconcerned at our tardiness, there was one more passenger behind us. As soon as we three were on board take off procedures began. But were just as quickly stopped. Rain I think. Something. I don't know. I woke up when we took off. About an hour later than scheduled.

It was over. Finished. Kaput. We had officially left Japan.

Sigh...

Fare thee well

Last night was the farewell party. It was fantastic to see all the mates that had been made turning out for one last "Hurrah!".
I had some photos of mine on display which apparnetly met with approval from the masses. We had good food and a good time. Thanks to everyone who came. Thanks to Daishochu for all their help and patience with the biggest bunch of gaijin I think they've had patron their establishment.
Thanks to everyone who donated to the "Nikki is Poor" cause (airport tax etc.).
It was a great night with a bit of shinannigins and a whole bunch of alcohol. Resulting in a 7am taxi ride home. And a very hungover Saturday of doin nothing. Not even packing.
And now the holiday can begin in earnest!!

Are you jealous...?

Adieu, adieu...

Glory be, glory be! Tis done! Tis finished! The end of the employment road has been found! With glee I announce that I am now officially unemployed and have no foreseeable source of income for the next 8-10 months! Wonderous news! Believe me when I say tis not with sadness that I leave my place of employment, but with unadulterated joy! (picture a choir singing "hallelujah")
The tyrannical pink bunny that symbolises all that is evil and cruel and just plain wrong with the world, no longer has me under its thumb. Hurrah! Whilst under the employ of said bunny however, many a good friend was made. So it was not a complete waste of sanity on my part.

Beware the pink bunny...

Murphy's Law...

The countdown has begun in earnest for the departure and our young Murphy throws a spanner in the works! By gum! A few posts have already mentioned this bar and its proprietor, the music, the drunkards and their behaviour. But they have failed to capture the wonderful atmosphere, the fun, the cheeky smile that always greets, the good food, a short yet cherished friendship. It seems that good things always come at the end of a journey.

So if you are in Hiroshima check out Tomo Dining near Hondori, its worth it.

In the same vein, the acquaintance of a native Guatemalan and his okonomiyaki was made. But alas! T'was not to be. As with the afore mentioned gent, a brief flirtation with friendship was all that was to be had. Used to saying goodbye however, makes one grateful for any meeting of like-minded people. No matter how fleeting the encounter. A smile goes a long way, cheekiness is always responded to in kind and kind eyes speak volumes.

If you want a taste of Guatemala, head to Lopez near Yokogawa station. Good food, good fun.


Bittersweet goodbyes though... they always suck.

My new toy...

A very plastic, very red, very child's toy looking camera. I'm going old school now I tell ya! Its a film camera which seems incredibly antiquated in this day and age, but the cool thing is it takes an eight frame shot!! Wo-hoo! Much fun is yet to be had with this wee contraption me thinks! The bummer is though, its not too fond of light that is not natural nor bright, ie. A blazing sunny day is its friend, dusk or anything darker produces eight frames of "huh?!".

The Sound of Music

Aahh usually tis such a sweet thing to hear...
But picture a darkened bar, a circle of Djembe, expectant drummers, a didjeridoo, and then 2 beginners; one of whom can't keep rhythm (ahem) and the other who has no problems at all. A very patient teacher and even more patient advanced students. This was the introduction to African drum bashing that started our evening of frivolity. And yes bashing is exactly what happened. Oh there was laughter (yours truely collapsing numerous times into fits of it due to lack of rhythm), there was fun, and an interesting amalgamation of African and Aboriginal music; the didjeridoo being played well by other more musically inclined members of the group whilst we (I) bashed away at the drum and the others played theirs. 2 hours, 2 sore hands, 2 beers and 2 newly acquired blisters later, we dragged our sensei along to another bar and plied him with alcohol. Of course we were no slouches in this area either and again were the last to leave a particular public house, the proprietor of which knows us almost intimately due to the drunken pidgin-Japanese that he hears each time we patron his establishment. Said gentleman speaks bugger all English but keeps us entertained with fantastic music of all genres and a winning smile that never fades through the evening (despite the drunken gaijin).
A delightful evening beginning and ending with music.
The hills are alive...

Toukasan

The 2nd 3rd and 4th of June each year are dedicated to a "summer" festival here in Hiroshima called Toukasan. It marks the beginning of the Yukata "season". Yukata are light cotton robes similar to Kimono and the girls all come out looking wonderful, boys also don the robes or wear Jimbei, which look like pijamas and for the more traditional man, they are. Jimbei are a two piece shorts and crossover short sleeve top outfit which look dead comfy, both yukata and jimbei are worn with Japanese wooden sandles called Geta. These look interesting but comfort wise...

A perhaps new tradition that has evolved is the inclusion of "Perikura". A photo booth that takes a bunch of photos of you and your friends pulling all sorts of faces and poses and which you then get to edit and manipulate however you want. A fun pastime which is bombarded with groups of yukata clad girls vying for the best machine, and jostling each other (in an orderly fashion of course) for a view of themselves in the mirror before they commit to it being saved for eternity. Yes we joined the queue of youngsters in our civvys and dragged some poor innocents into our photos aswell. They practiced their English and pulled faces with the gaijin, all the while giggling with their friends waiting patiently outside. We edited, we laughed, we said goodnight to which they replied "Have a goodtime!", not bad Engrish!!

Perikura meets tradition,
originally uploaded by mobile maori,

There are a bizillion and one stalls with various fare on display, goodies to be won and games a plenty to be played. Of course there is a purpose to this, its not just to show off your latest fashion, its a chance to visit the temple and pray for luck. Perhaps in the old days this meant a good harvest, healthy children etc, but times they have changed, and I imagine now its more a case of "I need a girlfriend/boyfriend/wife/husband" or more money or just plain "more". After one has paid tribute, a fortune can be retrieved. If it is a good fortune you keep it for prosperity, if bad you tie it to a tree to disintegrate with the seasons. How truely naturalistic, poor tree though- think of all those misfortunes that plague it/them on an annual basis!

the queue for luck,
originally uploaded by mobile maori.

Along with the stalls of fun, we were treated to a night of dancing Japanese style. We saw two ends of tradition; quaint and sedate vs loud and ultra vigorous. The former being a type of stick dance and some kind of fan dancey thing, the latter being a "Fighting Samurai Fisherman" boisterous event. This wonderfully loud yet traditional Hokkaido dance is called Soranbushi and tis most fun to watch!
Fan Dance Stick Dance
Soranbushi


A different side of Japan. Tradition meets contemporary. A country with many faces. Aahh bless!!

Appreciation...

As a Western woman in Japan, one quickly realizes that the bossom is more appreciated here than at home. Open gawking is the preferred form of appreciation in place of furtive glances. But the best reaction to date was had yesterday. A beautiful warm day encouraged a bunch of mates to head to the shore for a bit of a picnic. The weather and pasty skin in need of bronzing, deemed a singlet the most suitable attire. Throughout our leisurely cycle many an admiring glance was cast the bossom's way, noticed but ignored as an everyday occurrence. Until... After a quick pitstop for refreshments, and but a few metres made, a vocal passer-by made his appreciation known. Upon glancing at the ample bossom, said gentleman let loose a most audible "hwooaaarrrr", almost immediately accompanied by hysterical giggling from all who were present. The gentleman should be most proud though as this incident provided anecdotal entertainment for the rest of the day and into the evening...

The Evening. It seems that bossom appreciation is not limited to open gawking and men. Participating in a local traditional summer evening event (drinking and eating as much as you can for as long as you are able- welcome to the Beer Garden), a charming lady's acquaintance was made. Fascinated by the many bossoms at the table, she made a grab for a few while offering her own for the grabbing aswell! An absolute character she was a great hit and a highlight for the evening.

Summer: Beer and Bossoms... What more could one ask for?

new to me...

...vimeo is pretty cool; a video thingy that I can share video footage with. Yay!!

So enjoy some baseball action...

It's a hit!

and a New Year's Eve clip from Seoul, Korea. They are hand held fireworks by the way...

Fireworks fun

Hhmmmm....

Is it possible to be truly objective?

Play Ball!

are you ready boys..?
originally uploaded by transient worker.

Yes the All-American past time is also a fanatically followed sport in this little neck of the woods aswell. Hiroshima however, has been suffering from a case of "not-enough-money-to-keep-their-top-players-and-as-a-consequence-are-
permanently-at-the-bottom-end-of-the-table" syndrome, (and as there are only six teams in their competition, this is quite a feat). They can pull out the odd surprise of course as witnessed by yours truly and a few other thousand last Friday.

Picture, if you will....
An amazingly beautiful day, a clear azul sky, the sun beating down, people laughing, kids running, a general feeling of wellness... Then throw into the mix a handful of melting gaijin (non-Japanese)! Yes it was a beautiful day but... DAMN!! The humidity must have been about 200%!! (a slight embellishment but you get the idea) We decided late to go to the "ballgame" so by the time we arrived at round 1pm(ish) the line for tickets was about 30mins long (or more). And so began the tagteam line holding game. It was too hot to stay put for too long so the smart (or perhaps weak?) gaijin kept trading places in the shade. It was a good ploy as the locals in front of us dropped off one by one and the waiting time got shorter. We were joined by a Japanese doctor friend just before we reached the ticket window...

An aside here- it seems that in Japan the doctors are given a license to prescribe a certain amount of "MaryJane" for medicinal purposes, I'm not sure how often this is allowed but the silly boy (hearing a chuckle here) told us; a bunch of antipodeans!! As you can imagine he now gets the ol' nudge and wink and the hand out whenever he sees us, the poor boy- if only he'd known I don't think he'd ever have told us (picture rueful shaking of the head). Oh and he just informed us the same applies for morphine...! By gum! Will the wonders never cease!


But back to the baseball... All the cheap seats were gone so we ended up paying Y3200 (roughly USD32) which was met with a "what-the-hell" shrug of the shoulders attitude, and what do you know- our expensive seats were in the shade. Score!! As we had reached our decision to come late, we missed the first innings in which Hiroshima had scored a grand slam. Typical! We as fans were then subjected to a bunch of runs scored by the opposition. We were beginning to regret our cavalier attitude towards the ticket price and decided to partake in the liquid amber type of consolation. Then lo' and behold the 6th innings arrives and wonder of all wonders Hiroshima scores!! Hurrah! We were finally able to do some "in yer face" cheering!

A note on Japanese baseball fans cheering...
There is a chant that is "sung" whenever your team is up to bat; "Ka-to-ba-se (insert name here), (name), (name), (name), (naameeeee)", basically its saying your usual "C'mon!" "Hit the ball!", that type of thing. Example: Kimura- top player so... "Ka-to-ba-se Kimura, Kimura, Kimura, Kimuraaaaa!" This is done while beating drums are going, you are going up and down much like and out of time Mexican wave, and colourful implements of appropriate teams are being gesticulated wildly in front of you. Its fantastic!! And so polite! And so organised! In what would be considered the equivalent of the "terraces" in NZ, there is a band of 3 men coordinating the cheering efforts, timed to perfection, a spectacular sight to see! There's no heckling of the opposition players or fans, and you only cheer when your team is at bat. Believe me it has to be seen to be believed. Of course the lack of heckling stance doesn't apply to slightly inebriated gaijin who decide to liven things up by teaching their Japanese friends the afore mentioned art. Due to all the movie images you would imagine that "banzai" is a relatively common phrase. But the only time I've actually heard a Japanese individual say "Banzai!" was at the ballgame. And only after a home run had been scored. The run is celebrated by some Japanese phrases I don't know and then "Banzai! Banzai! Banzai!" while throwing your hands up in the air. Who knew cheering was so complicated?

So onto the beginning of the 7th innings and the Hiroshima fans break into song- the team song. Of which we could only sing the chorus "Kaapu, Kaapu, Kaapu Hiroshima! Hiroshi-ii-ma Ka-ah-pu!" At the end of the song balloons are released into the air accompanied by wild squeals both from the crowd and the balloons.


In case you're wondering the Hiroshima team name is "Carp". Not "Hiroshima Carp", not "The Carp", not "The Carps", not "Carps", just "Carp". And they have an interesting yet strange mascot, not a fish, not a man, not anything easily discernible really. Fantastic!

By games end, we had downed quite a few bevvies, were feeling awfully happy and in need of a feed. So an "okonomiyaki" hunt was set in motion. In Hiroshima this is the equivalent to the Kiwis "McD's-after-a-hard-night-out" and the Pommy "curry-to-a-pisshead" solution to hunger pangs. A wonderful conglomeration of veges and other healthy stuff that tastes decidedly unhealthy due to the mound of mayonnaise and sauce piled on it. "Mmmmm... Okonomiyaki" (a la Homer Simpson).


With bellies full, we embarked on drinking hole search. I had been thwarted in my attempts to patron one establishment, but it was not to happen again! So with purposeful strides I marched our merry group towards a new hole in the wall with quite a stylely interior, and as luck would have it the more reluctant ones were persuaded by the cheap beer prices. They served very good food, put up with gaijin drunkards and their embarrassed Japanese companions and provided us with a perfect end to a perfect day. Marvellous!

Take me out to the ball game....

spring is in the air....

... or perhaps its moved on to the far more humid sister- Summer. Nevertheless, Spring or at least flowers were in the air last week in Hiroshima at the 30th annual Flower Festival. I am lead to believe that this event happens every 1st week of May, and this year it was the 2nd one I attended. Funnily enough the "flowers" seem to be the participants of the parade... unless you count the one huge upended cone display at Peace Park and the numerous intersection-beautifying mini gardens. Its a great time for hanging out with friends or family, getting a bit of sun, and enjoying the weird and wonderful; be it the parade itself or the stalls full of goodies that are bountiful along its route. Providing more weird and wonderful are the stages dotted around the place with any amount of different performances on the go, both local acts and national stars. This year Hiroshima locals were treated to the comedic talents of "Hard Gay"... picture if you will an ex-wrestler dressed in a short PVC black jumpsuit with a zip front, glasses Elvis would have been proud to own, and a cap like that biker dude from the Village People. An absolute icon for the youth of Japan (ages 8 and up- as witnessed by me in the form of many an impersonation by kids in my classes), and the bane of every parents existence it seems. If you'd like to check out some of his antics look him up in Google Video, you may not understand him but you will laugh- he is a crazy bugger.
For more information on the festival check out www.gethiroshima.com. London has TNT for the antipodean masses, Hiroshima's equivalent is "gethiroshima" for the "gaijin" (non-japanese) population, both overflowing with useless and useful information, and surprisingly frank classifieds... Welcome to my world...