Ben Taylor

I am still behind, chronologically, on blog posts. This post refers to Friday, the 26th of March.

Today I had a job interview. I have been having quite a large number of these recently, as there are plenty of tasks native English speakers can apply for, no matter what your life experience. The first of these interviews was to work in an English conversation cafe. There are many of these style places around, so I shall describe it to you.

When I say 'cafe,' I mean a building owned by this business, which generally contains a couple of tables surrounded by a decent number of chairs. The other important aspect of these places is an area where teachers and students alike can forage for themselves some tea and/or coffee. These jobs are part time, and only require you to be a native English speaker, and be able to talk to others with a little sensitivity to their language abilities.

What I have just described, thus far, has proved universally accurate. The unfortunate downside for such places is this: due to the ease in which one can get a job there, they pay very little. Despite this, any work is better than no work, and this particular job is quite easy, and so far quite enjoyable. I say so far, as I have now worked not one, but 3 shifts in such a place. It was in fact the second English-speaking cafe that I applied for, that quickly provided me with work, and a pleasurable experience it was. In fact, this second cafe, called Leafcup, also provides different opportunities for staff and guests to mix in different settings. For example, tomorrow, Sunday the 4th of April, Leafcup has invited me to a Hanami party with the school.

However, I shall keep the details of Hanami parties to myself for now, as I have, what should be, a particularly enjoyable blog post or two coming up about one such event, so do not touch that dial folks!

Please forgive my tangent. My job interview on this particular Friday was not for an English cafe, but for private childcare. Our meeting place was not a home, but a park close to my employee's residence, called Saigoyama. To get there, I took my favourite train line, Yamanote line, to Shibuya. This station is decidedly familiar, as I often use it to go places, or go through it to get elsewhere.

On this occasion, I arrived here, and then had to walk quite the distance to my new location. There were, no doubt, many train stations closer to my goal, but I was happy to walk, as it provides many opportunities. For example, I may get the chance to find interesting places, such as a beautiful park or shrine, or simply get the chance to see different areas of my current home.

An interesting walk it was, and I only got slightly lost, which was nice. When I arrived, I went to, what I thought was, the designated meeting spot. I knew only to look for a Japanese woman with children, but regrettably, this was quite a common thing in this area. I slowly walked past one, then two possible candidates, but neither took the bait. Disappointed, I called my prospective employer, to be told that a child related incident had momentarily drawn her homewards, and that she would arrive again at the park soon.

With my spare time, I explored my surroundings, taking a few photos, which you may enjoy.

Though beautiful, I am not exactly sure what this tree is, I assume somehow related to the cherry trees, but markedly different in flower. If you know what type of tree this is, please leave a comment with the answer!

I am not expressly a 'flower person,' but one cannot help but appreciate the colour and order shown here.

These drinking fountains are common in parks around Japan. Note: the tap can be turned and left on, but I have never seen one left so much as dribbling; this is Japan after all.

Another beautiful flowerbed, though that pink flower in the middle seems a little out of place, even though it is immensely attractive?

[Continued directly from 'Old Friends, New Country']

Auspiciously, all these themed restaurants were nigh contiguous, so walking to Lockup was not a difficult task. As we ambled through the crowds, my illustrious hosts, Tsubura and Nanami, informed me how this thing would go down. Apparently upon requesting a table, one was literally 'locked up' then escorted to your dining destination. I found this astounding, and exclaimed so, saying something like, "This country is crazy!"

The door to Arabian Rock matched its theme, appearing heavy and made of gold, and likewise, the door to Lockup appeared nothing if not ominous. Upon entering, we found ourselves in a dimly lit room. At this point, if I were solo, my next course of action would have been somewhat obscure; fortunately, my Japanese companions had no hindering language barrier, and promptly turned to a desk on the right to perform the next move. As they did, there was a loud noise and bright flash, followed by a groaning if I remember correctly.

Nanami and Tsububra further buried their heads in whatever it was they were looking at, intent on remaining ignorant of the cause of the recent cacophony. Being the burly Australian that I am, I saw the skeleton emerge from the left of the door and turn its head toward us. I am no doubt incredibly brave, or possibly just slow to react to loud noises in foreign settings, perhaps we shall never know which.

I am not exactly sure what it was that the girls were looking at, but after this, we moved through the next door and into a reception style area, similar to that of the Arabian Rock, but everything was dark and dingy looking. Another Japanese woman greeted us, dressed elaborately as a guard. She inquired regarding the numerical composition of our party, receiving her answer, she bade us sit in a line of waiting seats, and went to into a separate room, I assumed to prepare for our imminent executions and the sale of our organs, or something like that anyway.

Ostensibly, this institution was well prepared for such a circumstance, and our host quickly emerged, bearing manacles and requesting a volunteer, for which task I was encouraged to put my hand up. I suggested that perhaps I was a poor choice for such an assignment, as if there was any questions given in Japanese, it was unlikely that I would be able to understand, and even less likely that I could respond lucidly. Slightly begrudgingly, Tsubura volunteered, and was promptly handcuffed and lead down a dark staircase, Nanami and I followed.

Lining the halls were many grim and gruesome pictures, some of people with half their face missing, others of clowns smiling sadistically. There were no half measures here. Tsubura's captor lead her to a room barred with a heavy jail door, complete with thick bars, here she was released and directed to sit, Nanami and I following suit. Here we inspected the menu, a fascinating exercise.

Arabian Rock had a general food menu, but a fascinating list of themed drinks, each with a suitable name. If ancient Arabia had access to ingredients for different cocktails, I have no doubt they would produce a similar display of shiny and multicoloured offerings. Likewise, at Lockup, the drinks were foreboding in name and countenance.

Included on this menu we discovered a drink named after Frankenstein himself, which Tsubura ordered. Nanami and I opted for non-alcoholic beverages in beakers, mine orange and yellow, hers dark and light green. I forget the names, but yes, you did read correctly, the pictures showed these drinks in beakers, just like science at school. Tsubura's came in a conical flask, there were test tubes of different beverages, including a bear in a test tube about a foot high.

We also ordered something that looked to me like sushi, but was apparently uncooked spring rolls. They were delicious, also included in our visit were some bread sticks with cheese inside, accompanying that was some cream. All fantastic. As we talked and ate, suddenly ALL the lights went out. I capitalise that to differentiate it between this and Arabian Rock. At Arabian Rock, the hallways remained lit, but there was no light here.

In a second some UV lights came on, and a siren sounded, informing us, in Japanese, that some... things... had escaped. Shadowing this announcement was a scream, then another. Mixed with these sounds were several growls and some banging, the rest was an indescribable tumult. Our cell neighboured a stairwell, and soon enough we heard something descending it quickly. No doubt by some malevolent design, the only view from our small dungeon booth was via the barred door, which was our entrance.

The thumping of footsteps got louder.

Abruptly, a large ape-man prowled around the corner, spied us through the cage door, and jumped on it, hooting loudly. Specifically, this creature had the face of an ape, and the body of a man, dressed in a prison outfit. Seemingly discontent with merely hanging off our jail door, which had recently become quite fond to our hearts, our guest tried reaching through the bars to grab me, as I was closest to the door...

Nanami and Tsubura are fantastic, I had a wonderful night with them, and enjoyed going to school with them, but I will not avoid telling the whole truth on their behalf, there was some loud screaming coming from their side of the table. Our primate friend soon left without any physical prize to show for his efforts, but if he accepted payment in shrieking, he went away a rich man.

'Fascinating,' I remember thinking to myself, nonetheless, the pandemonium continued unabated. Evidently, the show was not yet finished. Forthwith, another escapee, this one with a more ghostly mask and a white and black prison uniform, greeted us. He shook on our door, trying to gain entry, yelling the whole time. My cell, however, refused to be the quieter party, and he met with equal wailing, and likewise leaving rich in decibels.

Following this, it appeared that the fugitives moved to a different part of the dungeon, and Tsubura started to bemoan missing the chance to get a photo of one of our previous stalkers. "You may yet get another chance," I suggested, how right I would be. In the mean time, we enjoyed looking at each other in the light of UV, trying to capture our sinister grins on film.

If only our last tormentor had arrived 3 minutes earlier, my previous statement would have seemed even more like prophecy, but arrive he did, and in a more terrifying fashion than our previous sojourners. Not content was he with rattling the cage door and yelling, he was also so direct as to tear open the door and reach in ominously, trying to leave with more than just ringing ears. I did not think the girls could scream louder, but I was wrong.

...

Overall, it was a very enjoyable evening, and even though some members of the group had screamed and recoiled, they both professed the desire to return again for a full meal. We walked back to the train station and said our farewells, remembering how our last guessed had suddenly run off, followed quickly by some other escapees. An announcement had come over then, saying that the bad guys were dead, and all was fine. A guard even went so far as to check on our health.

Good times. Enrapturing place, this country.

Chronologically, this post refers to the 25th of March, a Thursday, and a very enjoyable Thursday it was.

Nanami Komaki and Tsubura Kobayashi were two friends of mine in high school. As you have no doubt guessed, they are Japanese. If you were brave, enough to attempt to read their names aloud, you may have found 'Tsubura' difficult. Fortunately, Tsubura went by Becky whilst at this Australian high school.

When I arrived in Tokyo many things happened. One of which was this; Tsubura messaged me on facebook, shocked to think I was in her country. Consequently, we arranged a meeting, to prove my existence. That was this night.

Taking the familiar yamanote line from Shinagawa to Shinjuku, I slowly walked towards the exit where we were to meet. The area was incredibly busy, and I wondered how I was supposed to distinguish two Japanese girls among a sea of black hair. Fortuitously, as I walked through the exit gates Nanami and Tsubura had just walked down the stairs, so we met easily.

Walking through Shinjuku it was decided to dine at Arabian Rock, a nearby themed restaurant. As we came upon the entrance of the said venue, Arabian style music was playing, specifically, some music from the sound track to Aladdin. We ascended a staircase and came to an elaborate door. Upon entering there was a voice suggesting we say 'open sesame,' however, a Japanese couple had entered soon before us, and the door was still open to the restaurant proper, so this was unnecessary.

An attractive Japanese woman dressed remarkably similar to Jasmine (also from Aladdin) greeted us. After some quick discussion in Japanese, and some theatrics, which I will not spoil, we were lead past many booths shrouded by a hanging curtain of gold thread. We had arrived early, soon after opening; a good thing as by the time we finished eating our dining location was packed.

All staff present were in at least some sort of costume, but none so much as the first waitress, dressed almost identically to the movie. Two other remarkable things happened during the meal though. The first was this: Whilst we were eating, suddenly the light above our table went out, and a voice over the loud speaker came on, quite loud. Obviously, it was all in Japanese, however I did understand one word: tanjoubi (birthday).

It turns out that they were impeding everyone's meals to wish happy birthday to those who were there to celebrate the anniversary of their birth. Interesting right? I said to Nanami and Tsubura how unusual this was for me, unheard of even! The other fascinating experience at Arabian Rock was one dish we had. At first site it appeared to be small, fried... somethings, tiny, barely a centimetre wide. I was thereafter informed that each piece was the soft bones from chicken, fried. Further information insisted that this was quite a popular meal.

How did it taste, you ask. Pretty good actually, I recommend it. If nothing else, it was interesting to eat. An especially attentive reader may have noticed that in the previous paragraph I specified 'Arabian Rock' when talking about this interesting experience. This was intentional. Cast your mind back to before we entered the restaurant. As we approached, some other eateries were pointed out to me. One was 'Mysterious,' apparently a space themed venue. The second was 'Lockup.' As the title suggests, it was a prison themed restaurant.

As we were deciding upon places to dine, Lockup was one of the options, and after some discussion, it was here we headed after finishing our meal at Arabian Rock, just to 'check it out.'

And this, my friends, was an even more intriguing experience.

This post refers to the 22nd of March, where I joined my friend Taro and two friends of his for lunch in Akihabara.

Leaving Blair's residence in Takanawa, Minato-ku, we made our way to Sengakuji station, which was the start of a small adventure in itself. I am used to taking the yamanote line from Shinagawa station to just about everywhere. I would simply stay on that train until the stop closest to my destination, and then walk, which is much easier for me. The other option is of course what we did on this day.

As we descended the stairs to the station, Taro suddenly turned to me and said, "Hurry," then started to run. As I followed him down the stairs I realised why we were moving with such haste, the train we were hoping to board was at the station. We continued to plummet into the heart of the earth, and rounding the last corner onto the last set of stairs, I looked up quickly to see the train there and the conductor on the platform, finishing the final check. Our pace increased markedly.

...

We made it, and even better, we did not have to fight the doors! I feel it necessary to say this, as many times before and since then I have seen someone perform a similar trick to this, but make the threshold as the doors are closing, sometimes being forced out, other times managing to fight off these mechanical obstacles and make it in. My favourite memory of such is still the time I saw two friends rushing to make the train, one making it on, and the other failing to follow quickly enough and missing the train to quickly closing doors.

If you were not sure, in Tokyo there are several 'lines' that trains use. Yamanote line is the simplest, being merely a wide circuit around the city centre. More complex lines are difficult to describe, but needless to say, if you need to go somewhere in Tokyo, there is a subway or train station very close by. The two main options are Tokyo Metro, and JR, if you are curious about the complexity of it all, the following links are provided for your convenience:

http://www.tokyometro.jp/global/en/index.html
http://www.jreast.co.jp/e/

After some time on the train from Sengakuji, Taro informed it was time for a change. Accordingly, we exited our vehicle at the next station, found a different 'line' and hopped the next train out of there. We were rushing because Taro was supposed to meet someone for lunch, and regrettably, we were behind scheduled time.

Arriving in Akuhabara, apparently the centre for all things technological, we met with Michi, a friend of Taro who shares the same apartment block, Tiger house. We then picked a place to have lunch, fortunately for me it was decided to eat at a nearby pub. I say 'fortunately' not because of any difficulty, but because this pub was fascinating.

Upon entering, the view was as such:

Chandeliers, a disco ball, a world map, and everything else you can imagine.

This the right side of the previous photo.

And the left.

I was simply astounded, by not only the sheer amount of items, but also the fact that almost all of them were from another country. However, the most bewildering thing was still to come. We ate a mix of Western and Japanese foods, from rice to a hot dog. There were beers from all across the world, from countries as diverse as Australia and Belgium. We talked for a bit, our fourth party member showed up, and we talked some more. Upon taking a trip to the bathroom, I saw this...

A cool sign right? The most surprising thing was that it was in the middle of Tokyo.

I hope you have found this interesting and enlightening, I found it such, and therefore felt compelled to share.

Forgive me if the title seems cryptic to you. Natto is a traditional Japanese dish, made from soybeans fermented with bacteria. The purpose of this post is hopefully to amuse you and in equal measure, to inform you, so that if you are ever in a situation where you are confronted with a Japanese style meal such as this, you will be armed with knowledge.

This post refers to the morning of Saturday, the 20th of March; forgive me for not posting it sooner, but the odd thing about Japan is that things just keep happening. On this particular morning, Taro Miyaji and his friend Saori had stayed the night to keep me company. I suspect they were secretly testing if they could encourage my brain to explode trying to remember too much Japanese.

On this morning, Saori offered to make breakfast, whilst Taro quickly ran off to a corner store to buy some natto. Some history: for over a week now Taro has been taunting me with this dish, saying it is the true test of any person wishing to try everything. A similar equivalent would be Australians trying to get foreigners to try a sandwich heavily smothered in vegemite. Unfortunately, this analogy does have its problems, as you will see.

Allow me an explanation: the bottom half of the photo shows my portion, of which everyone has the same. The top half of the photo has 2 shared dishes, the egg roll thing on the left and the black plate, which I shall explain forthwith.

In the top left corner of said plate, you will notice some brown things; these are pickled plums. On the plum's immediate right you shall see a small reddish pile of food, this is pickled radish. Continuing clockwise, at the far right of the dish, you may distinguish a black pile of something; this is pickled kelp. Finally, nestled below and slightly to the left of this radish, is another black pile, these are small fish, which I think were pickled, but were surprisingly crunchy.

My 4 dishes are a bowl of rice, then clockwise you will see an empty plate, onto which shared food, such as some of that egg roll are placed. Following this, on the extreme right you will see a square plate, contained within is the object of my trepidation, the natto. Finally, the brown bowl contains miso soup, a traditional Japanese soup made of mushrooms, seaweed and various other vegetables.

At the start of every meal, before eating, the Japanese say, "Itadakimasu," or in English, 'thank you for the meal.'

...

After which I must have noticeably hesitated, as both of my Japanese compatriots laughed.

It is no doubt difficult to tell from the poor photo what exactly this natto looks like, thus I shall attempt an explanation. Natto comes in these packages almost uniformly across the country. It is a Styrofoam container, which you see here opened. Inside is contained the natto itself, as well as a separate pack of soy sauce and Japanese mustard.

The natto was covered in a plastic film, which Taro and Saori informed me I must peel back. As I did so, the smell released was strong and incredibly difficult to describe. I had decided before hand that this would be delicious, as one gains nothing from avoiding something that is good for you. Unfortunately, my brain had lapsed in its task to inform my nose of this wonderful meal. Subduing my facial betrayal, I asked, "what now?"

Apparently, it is important to 'activate' the natto, by mixing it with your chopsticks quite thoroughly. This task is difficult as natto is extremely sticky and thick. As I stirred this sensational looking dish, the sticky substance coating the soybeans changed colour and consistency, becoming slightly more fluid, and definitely more yellow. After this process was complete, we put the soy sauce and mustard on, me of course opting to use every minuscule droplet contained therein.

At this point in the meal, I think I put the natto down, along with my chopsticks, sat back from the table and exclaimed, "Weird!" Most likely, this statement was loud and my sadistic hosts both enjoyed a hearty laugh at my expense.

Brief respite complete, "try it," was my next command. Calming my apprehension, I reached for my natto and chopsticks, procured for myself several beans and quickly ate them. Taro and Saori both had wonderful looks of anticipation on their faces. It was not that bad, weird texture, unusual taste, but really, not that bad. The taste is difficult to describe, being composed of soybeans, it had that signature bland sort of taste. However, the fermentation process had added a sort of sour cheese kind of flavour.

The disappointment on my Japanese compatriot's faces did not last long when I informed them that, "it's not that bad," quickly changing to a smile and a clap. To my immense relief they informed me that I was now permitted to combine it with my rice and eat it, which I cannot emphasise enough, was much easier to stomach. The rest of the meal progressed more smoothly. I would eat some natto and rice, have a sip of miso soup, and grab a couple small fish from the communal centre plate, the usual.

Oh, before I forget, the plums were another challenge, since I do not normally like plums and my love for pickled anythings was equally none existent. My only recommendation to anyone going to another country, like Japan, is to decide before hand that you like everything, only then will you enjoy yourself to the fullest. Either that or you will at least have interesting stories to tell: win, win.

My first bite of plum did cause my undisciplined nose to wrinkle again, but when I focused on the salty taste, it was really quite ok. I asked Taro to eat some of his plum, which he did by taking a bite, then quickly scooping some rice into his mouth and eating the two together. I cannot advocate this method enough.

Finishing my last bite of egg roll, I exclaimed, "Finished." My host's cheered, but then informed me that I should never do that again. "Seriously," they said, "never." "What did I do?!" "It's really quite rude, you shouldn't ever do that." After several minutes of asking what it was that I did, I was informed that one should never leave food behind in your rice bowl, an insult to the person who cooked it. Chastened, I finished off the straggling rice grains and tried again, "finished?"

"Exam complete, you passed," I was told. I think I sat back in my chair at this point with an audible sigh.

A photo of our finished meal.

Some hints to those who would learn:

Finishing one's rice is obviously important and to that end, I would assume all plates of food specifically marked 'yours,' such as my miso soup. However, at the end of the meal there was still some shared food remaining, which it appears is ok.
Whilst eating my rice I was reprimanded for not holding the bowl in my left hand whilst I ate. Not only is this acceptable, but also expected, and holding the bowl close to your mouth to get those last bites of food, or a difficult mouthful, is not only unobjectionable, but laudable.
Eating miso soup should be performed likewise and slurping is common. Furthermore, whilst drinking the fluid of the soup is simple in this manner, eating the large chunks of seaweed or mushroom is more difficult. In such a situation, either it is commendable to use your chopsticks to pick up, or shovel said morsels into one's mouth.
A final note on holding the bowl: this ought to be performed with all four fingers on the very bottom of the dish, with the thumb perched on the rim; this is recommended in every case.

Yesterday, Friday the 19th of March, I went for a walk, or more accurately, a walk and a train ride, towards the very centre of Tokyo. My plan was to visit the Foreign Correspondents' Club of Japan, to procure for myself some English literature, in which to search for jobs and other interesting pieces of information. Unfortunately, however, what I found was far removed from what I had imagined. Instead of finding one or two small English publications, mostly full of what one calls 'the classifieds', I was shocked and horrified to find a huge variation of publications. The range was immense, from advertisements for Art Galleries, to a pamphlet detailing what appeared to be every single ski field in Japan.

Forgive me though I was appalled, as I indicated, it was a joyous horror.

With my bag now heavily laden with a few publications short of everything they had, I took the elevator back to street level, already considering my journey a success. Eager to devour my plunder, I headed again for the train station. Waiting at a set of traffic lights, I hesitated, remembering my former Google Maps research, I checked my watch. 3:45pm, plenty of time.

Accordingly, with a quick about-face, I walked the wrong way through the waiting crowd and struck out towards what I thought to be a park. As I walked, I recalled my research; close to this train station there had appeared to be a large park. I like parks. On the way to my destination, there was a large map, mostly in English, a slightly unusual occurrence, indicating that this section of the city was a very popular tourist destination.

Perusing the map, I noticed that there was a park as I suspected, but upon further scrutiny, I realised that the majority of the 'green area' on Google Maps had not been a park, but the Imperial Palace itself. Fascinating. With a new spring in my step, I sauntered off towards the intersection of Hibiya Park and the Imperial Palace.

Arriving at 4pm, I realised I would not have time to see both of these. Following a brief internal dialogue I decided upon the Imperial Palace, since I had been previously informed that therein lay a fantastic garden too observe as the cherry trees blossomed. Pivoting towards the Palace, I mourned, realising that not only did I not have my camera, but that I also had still to purchase batteries for it.

The place was huge. I had started to explain how to find it on Google Maps, then I realised I could simply show you a map. My path is marked by the red line, I started at the southernmost part:

At the corner, I looked down into the water...

It turns out all the water you see on the map, is actually large ponds! That fish is a Koi, related to the goldfish but... noticeably larger.

Those things you can see breaking the surface of the water are the fins of more Koi, they swim slowly and close to the surface. In my first post, An Australian in Japan, I referred to 'an amazing Japanese style garden.' This was Hanno-en, and when I observing the pond there, I saw a Koi leap out of the water 3 times. Fascinating fish.

This photo is still at that first corner on the map, no doubt the sign says 'don't feed the fish.' It should say below that in English, "If you cannot read the above writing, you shouldn't even consider feeding the fish."

This photo was taken just after that first left turn on the map, I couldn't resist. Though the 'no camping' section of these sign seems illogical, the same signs were posted throughout the park, so it makes sense.

I'm not sure how well you can see that, but on the ladder there is a man, and he is pruning these trees. Interesting.

This photo was taken as I walked 'west north west' on the map, just before the 'u-turn.' I'm not sure if you can see, but there are guards in front of that building, and on the bridge.

How cool is this tree?! This was taken in the short 'eastish' section of the journey, between the two long 'north' bits.

This awesome building was on the last section of the walk, as I was leaving the area. The building is marked by a red dot on the very corner.

So that was my adventure. I apologise that the photos are not that fantastic, before the cherry blossoms... blossom I will ensure that my proper camera is functioning.

I have debated that title for a while, it was either that or 'mediocrity,' and whilst this post is about the more mundane parts of a week, I consider it in no way pedestrian by any standards in comparison to my life only a month ago.

Yesterday, Tuesday the 16th of March, was what one may call an 'average day in Tokyo.' Currently Blair Thomson and his wife Sachiko are away, Blair in New Zealand for 2 weeks, and Sachi staying with her parents for the same length of time. Accordingly, Taro Miyaji (a mutual friend of Blair's as you may recall) is staying here, to keep me company and teach me Japanese.

This story starts at 11:15am. The previous evening another friend of Taro's, Saori, also stayed over, and left at around 9:30am on this Tuesday morning, but that is a completely different story.

I woke up with a start, attempting in vain to look at my watch. After rubbing my eyes I tried again, and realising the time I quickly went to wake Taro, since, as of last night, he was supposed to be leaving for work in 30 minutes. Disoriented, he informed me that he had called work, and was now starting later. Accordingly, I bade him return to sleep, a request he had already started to comply with.

I then went about my average morning ritual of reading my bible, a little exercise and a shower, after which Taro woke. We enjoyed our breakfast at 11:45am this morning, both glad for the extra sleep. After which we set out on our first of 2 missions.

The first was to find a different supermarket. Up until this point, we had been visiting 2 'supermarkets,' both located in Shinagawa train station, and both quite small by Australian metropolitan standards, as many things are in Tokyo. This one was supposed to be slightly larger, and so with vague directions, we journeyed on.

Shinagawa station is about 7 minutes walk from the place I am staying in Takanawa, Minato-ku (an area of Tokyo). Today we walked a different direction, and sure enough, about 8 minutes into our journey we passed another subway station. This is standard across the board in Tokyo, as a Google of Tokyo subway stations will show you plainly. The city is covered in train stations, if you want to go any real distance, most people take the subway. At any time during the day from about 10am to 9pm or even later, most trains you get on will be standing room only, a fascinating experience for someone from the Gold Coast, where trains can only come close to this capacity at peak hour.

We walked on, crossing different roads, where no one jaywalked, no vehicles queued through intersections or ran lights and people drove calmly across the board. Alien for some people, but standard for Japan. Eventually we came to the supermarket, which was the largest I had seen yet. Inside, the aisles were set up similar to an average Australian store, the most interesting part of this shopping experience happened as you made your purchases at the checkout.

In many supermarkets there are 2 people working each checkout point, one 'ringing up' your purchases, the other packing your food into bags. If you have purchased meat, the person packing the bags will offer to pack the meat in ice, so it doesn't go bad on your return journey. In the odd cases where there is only one person working the counter, there will be ice machines provided, free of charge.

Since this supermarket was larger, it also had incentives for people to purchase 2 litre bottles of water: right next to the ice machines there were others provided for your convenience. Some would wash your water bottle whilst others would fill it up again with fresh, pure water. There also were several other machines, the function of which I can only guess at. Apparently, this too is relatively unexceptional.

We walked home via a different route, where people would passing on the side walk would be patient in passing, bike riders would be careful and respectful, and not a child was seen running amok, despite many children from the local school out and about. All very ordinary.

We dropped off our purchases at the apartment and walked off again towards Shinagawa station, on the other side of which was a mobile phone store that we wanted to visit. As we arrived, we picked up a ticket, so that we would be served in order of arrival, and waited patiently. After talking quietly, we were served quickly, and were again on our way. Glancing at my watch I noticed it was 4:30pm, Taro took the train from Shinagawa to his work, though any station would have been fine, and I made my way home.

I cooked a simple dinner of spaghetti. Almost all kitchens use gas for heating, and are quite small by Australian standards, as most things are in Tokyo, space is a premium. I saved some dinner in a second bowl, and used some cling wrap to cover it. Japan is remarkable in that in everything it sets its mind to, the country and its people strive for perfection. This cling wrap was slightly thicker than any I had used in Australia, the cutting edge was a good width and it cut very well.

Doing the dishes with very little bench space was interesting, and the rack on which to dry my dishes was housed in the sink itself, as there was no room anywhere else. I am told this is conventional across Tokyo.

Forgive me if this post was boring for you, but this set of 'insignificant' experiences are, in many ways, so far removed from any in Australia, that I felt it necessary to write about them.