Time. Precious Time.

I left Australia on the Friday the 21st,
Took the flight first to Kuala Lumpur, then to Narita.
The airplane from Kuala Lumpur was half empty, with over 90% of its passengers Japanese. So, that was what the news was about - the number of overseas tourists to Japan dropping to less than half.
As the plane approached Narita, the inside of the cabin began to warm up.
That's right. Japan was in late Spring, beginning of Summer.

Being in Japan I noticed that the train was still a lot faster and the service was more frequent than Australia. Toilets are auto-flash of course, these electric appliances with extra features but no-energy saving features, most escalators still operating but no lifts for disabled persons.
Sure the lights in the shops are rather dim, (so they say, but to me it's bright enough) and probably many people must be finding the post 3/11 life hard.

*********************************************

The day I arrived in Japan was warm and sunny.
All I did was talking to mum, eating and resting.
Well, there was no Internet connected and the books I brought from Australia were fairly boring. (I had the high expectation since the authors are fabulous writers.)

The next day, the rainy season kicked in.
Then came the typhoon No.2. Doh.
Indeed it rained all the way through while I was in Japan.
The only other day that didn't rain was the day of my departure.

You see, with the incessant rain and no Internet,
I had more intimate time with my family.
The late night talk with mum in the futons laid side by side, accompanied by the sound of rain quietly pelting the roof,
and the walks we had and the shopping in the rain. How stupid it was, walking with umbrella open, fighting the merciless wind!
But, tell you what, it was beautiful. The flowers and trees were beautiful.
Actually most photos I took in Japan were of flowers and trees, because I didn't take any short trips.

During those two weeks I was with mum, I didn't use a mobile phone.
I could only use Internet at home for the last 4 days, using it only for e-mailing most of the time, which was reminiscent of the life 15 years ago.
It wasn't convenient, but wasn't too inconvenient either.
It made me think of how the human interaction was more direct and poignant in pre-Internet era.

But it wasn't that bad. We Japanese should be saving more electricity and transferring that extra electricity to where it's needed, such as hospitals and nursing homes.

I came back to Australia, to Ian, on the June the 4th.
I was glad that I went to Japan - but I am so glad to be back in Melbourne.
I appreciate my luck of seeing my family well and safe, that the home-coming wasn't heart-wrenching. It pained to think about those who are less-fortunate and having to go through the traumatic time.

God, how lucky I am alive.
Everyday, every minute is so precious,
because you'd never know where and when it ends.

Remember in the morning,
how beautiful it is just to feel your heart beating still,
see your loved one's face next to you,
hear the sound from the backyard and such.

Time I have now is god's blessing. (Saying that I'm an atheist.)

10 more days to Christmas.

For me as a child, Christmas was a day when I find a study book under my pillow in the morning. It was exactly the same every year and there was no way Santa could've chosen such a pressie for a girl.
But sometimes either dad or one of my aunties got me some fairytale books by Andersen and Grimm.

Little Match Girl, that's the first thing that pops in my mind during the Christmas season.
The story of the poor girl overdosing herself to go to the heaven? (It's strange that Andersen's fairytale is more grim than Grimm's.)
A sad but beautiful story. Then again, most beautiful stories have sad element in them.

My auntie always used to give me a large slab of chocolate for the Christmas, with Santa and the rain deer embossed on it, probably imported from somewhere in the Europe.  The Andersen's story conjures up a completely different picture from that but I could still feel the same snowy 'White Christmas' of the Northern Europe.  The perfect Christmas.


I did Christmas decoration last Friday.  Very modestly, with a secondhand wreath and a tree-shaped ornament, and the small plastic  Christmas tree about 30 years old with some broken branches.

On the Christmas tree are angels, little soldiers, a santa, gnomes and little wooden toys dangling loosely on its fragile twigs. I'd never had one myself so this is the only Christmas tree I've ever had.  The Christmas tree that spent many Christmas with Ian, his mother and sister, just three of them after his dad died.

I'm not a Christian.
Do Japanese celebrate Christmas? Yes we do, but it is more of a special event for couples while over here it's the time you spend with your loved ones and friends.

One of my friends hate Christmas for its hypocritical side, where retail industry takes advantage on people's frame of mind during this season - more cheerful and generous, meaning more likely to go on a spending spree. Just like Valentine's Day, Mother's Day, Father's Day and Easter where all shops use the occasion to promote seasonal sales.

I'm not a Christian.
Still, there is something special about Christmas.
It brings more nice out of people, makes me see more nice in people and I feel my heart touched.

A Weekend Getaway

On Saturday Ian took me to a drive to Craigieburn-Bradford-Seymour area. I was a little fluey, and still am, but I was just about fed up with staying inside, so it was a nice change to get out of the city.

I took my digital camera with me in hope of capturing some interesting objects on the way, but it was just a drive. There would've been no chance of stopping in the middle of the road in normal circumstances.

Country scenery is picturesque but sometimes not as impressive in your photos as what you really see.
It could be just me but it seems like a photo doesn’t do much justice unless you are a true genius.

What I was looking for was something ordinary, like traffic sign boards – something you'd see everywhere, but looks different in such places where there’s nothing but a straight-nothing road in the middle of nothing, the landscape with just grass, trees and mountains.

There were few things appealed to me that I failed to take the photos of.

A bent road sign.
A small bridge (from the perfect angle).
A creek so tiny that you could miss quite easily unless you are walking along the road. There was a sign showing the name of it, but our car drove passed too fast that I couldn’t see the sign properly. 

I used to walk along country roads in Japan where cars driving at a top speed just a metre or two away from you, though occasionally.
I probably was a bit mad. I didn’t really care so far as a narrow pedestrian path was there, and there was nobody who told me ‘NO’ back then as I was always travelling by myself.
Freedom was mine.
Long time ago.

But now, there he was telling me ‘no’ preaching me how dangerous it is. I secretly cursed Ian for being over-protective like some parent.

‘Well’, I say to myself, ‘consider yourself lucky to have someone who cares about you.’

There is a reckless child in me who sometimes tries to rebel, whom I chide for her misbehaviour and stubbornness.

The road was quiet. 

Ian frowned and ticked his tongue but stopped the car as many times as I turned on my camera (not on the freeway of course), rushing me to do it quick. Sorry for being a bad girl, darl… 

It’s just that things intrigue me.
Nature is beautiful.
And so are you.

Memory of L.C.

Some time ago I heard the sad news about my former writing teacher passing away.
The direct cause was a heart attack as far as I can remember, like many people do nowadays.

6 years ago he was my teacher, who came into the classroom with the unmistakable look of an alcoholic and the 'sweet' smell of booze that lingered in the air around him.
From time to time we had a discussion class at a nearby pub, talked about each other's current writing projects. The laid-back ambiance of the pub often made it easier for me to talk about this otherwise awkward subject.

He criticized about the course letting International students in without having a proper assessment, which I don't think he said what he said out of any bias or malice. Sure he didn't give me a good mark until my second year. Not too generous, he was, but fair and helpful.

He used to give me suggestions and more detailed feedback about my writing compared to some other teachers.

Few days ago I accidentally found his old email address on my contact list.
It begins with 'poormans', and it still stays on my list as a memento of him.

Unpredictable weather still continues...07-May

(Accompanied by the melody of Don Mclean's 'Vincent')

Starry starry night,
Washing clothes in my tiny laundry
Finally get all my washing done
Predicting them all dry out by the next day...

The morning comes and I'd be awaken
By the sound of pouring rain
Finding the clothes getting soaking wet
and the streaming tears would leave my face wet

Now I understand, that I should've waited till morning,
before I regret putting the clothes out
Now it is too late
and I finish taking them in the house in tears
and the sun comes shining again.

...I really hope it wouldn't start raining again till the clothes are completely dry.

It had been quite a marathon for the past few days.
For me as a person who's rather a late night owl, it was a huge challenge to get up before 7 o'clock three days in a row.
I had been too buggered that I didn't even switch on the computer once.
Whoa.
If this was the taste of what a full-time worker is to be expected, I'm not quite sure if I'm ready. Probably I'd never be ready.

I suffer from epilepsy. (I mentioned this before but I'm surprised that it sounds so matter-of-factly)
Actually I haven't had an episode for 2 years, apparently by not working hard.

Plus I started taking vitamin b6 suppliment twice daily and drinking blackcurrent juice.
No shit, this seems to work. (I've also been taking iron tablet.)
I feel more energy, it only takes me a minute from going to bed and falling asleep.
It's amazing.
For a brief moment I thought, perhaps if it keeps working for me, I'd be one day able to work full time. But probably not.
I worked full time twice in Australia and the workload proved to be too much for me.

Still, I'd be able to work part time.
I really want to do something to make money, so that I don't have to feel guilty by letting my husband run himself into the ground...

I've been a volunteer shop assistant for 6 months, and I'm getting increasingly confident with my work performance.

But you know, if...only hypothetically... I could get a part time position somewhere...I'd still get a little paranoid by the idea of potentially having an episode somewhere along the line. It might never happen, but it's not guarranteed.

I think the best thing I could do is to be aware of that risk, and choose a job carefully, if one is available. I can only work part time, and I would still have to maintain a healthy diet and lifestyle.

By the way, I went to an event organised by Australian Mightyboy Owners Network on Sunday and cruised around melbourne's northern, eastern suburbs and to the outskirts.
 
Here's the collection of photos.

 *(Oops, wrong photo's mixed into the collection.)

A Special Day at Hanging Rock

After 2 days of fun with my sister-in-law and nephews, we saw them off at the Melbourne's Tullamarine Airport yesterday.

If we were living in the same state it wouldn't be so bad, but they live in Sydney and it's not so cheap to travel interstate many times a year.
Knowing that, it was sad to see them leave.


My two nephews were a lot bigger than how I remembered them from 2 years ago.
2 years was a long time. During the meantime, he entered into his early adolescence - his voice has changed, pimples have appeared and the fine mousetache has started to show.


Sometimes I'd talk to him over the phone and he'd sound rather indifferent, which made me wonder if he's changed.


However, when I saw them at the Airport, I could tell almost straight away that they were rapt to see us again.


They brought their favourite Teddies and their mother brought her old Teddies for the big reunion with all our old Teddies. (YES, we are the geeks!)
The day was also my husband's birthday so we had a little party with home-cooked meal and a small bunch of flowers from the garden.


Yesterday was our biggest event - going to Hanging Rock together for the first time!
My sister-in-law was a teenager when the movie "Picnic at Hanging Rock" came out in 1975.
The movie was a box office hit in both Europe and Australia, and for her and my husband, especially living in Tasmania, was a huge deal going to watch that movie.

Organ Pipes

My husband I had already been there quite a number of times, but for them, it was 'WOW' experience.
Walking up itself was quite an exercise, but to take an adventure among the rocks was full-on.


As the name indicates, there are countless number of rocks around.
Those rocks invite you in, tempt you to explore further until you end up getting lost without your knowing...


It definitely evokes the intrigue and mysterious feel that were portrayed so well in the film, as my husband says -
Actually I saw the pictrail of the film which I downloaded from the following website Picnic at Hanging Rock


Our two excited nephews wandered into the rocks and tried to go further and further while we were trying to keep our eyes on them.
Although most rocks have plenty enough handholds, some were fairly slippery - but you'd want to take the challenge...I know.
Because I was like them once, and I hurt myself more than enough due to my curiosity and adventure-mindedness.


My sister-in-law was worried, yet so excited.
'Don't go any further!' she sort of yelled at kids but she kept going herself. :)
When we finally reached to the top, the view was mind-blowing.


Please check these out.

View from the Top

This is how it looks when you look down from the edge of a rock...

Glimpse of Mt. Macedon over the rocks and the plateau

Hanging Rock was a special experience we shared, which I will remember and cherish for the rest of my life.

Till next time.

A week after coming back to Melbourne, I'm finally getting around to organise the photos and videos. There aren't many photos actually taken in Tasmania. All there are are these few photos from Hawley Beach (Shearwater).

メルボルンに帰ってきて一週間。やっと写真やビデオを整理する事にした。実際にタスマニアで撮った写真は余りない。ホーリービーチ（シーウォーター）で撮った数枚の写真があるだけだ。

Just a minute's drive from the beach was the house Mamam lived, which is now occupied by someone else. The fact that the Bed and Breakfast place we stayed was so close to her old house was a pure coincidence.
But walking along the beach with my hubby in the morning after the emotional first day with Mamam evoked this nostalgic feeling in my mind.
My hubby told me he used to go there frequently back when Mamam was still living around the corner from the beach.

その海岸から車で一分の所に、昔ママンが住んでいた家がある。今では他人が住んでいるけどね。
２泊した朝食つき宿泊所がママンの昔の家とすぐそばだったのは単なる偶然だった。
でも、ちょっと辛い一日の翌朝にダンナ様と浜辺を歩いていたら、何となく懐かしい様な気持ちになった。彼も昔ママンがこの直ぐそばに住んでいた頃はよく浜辺に散歩に来たんだって。

Hawley Beach was a hidden gem. Despite the fact that even this quiet town is getting developed and more new houses have been built recently, the beach was incredibly tranquil - as if this beautiful place is left forgotten.
 Apart from two of us I only saw 2 locals walked passed us, and I hope the place to stay peacefully forgotten forever like this...

ホーリービーチは「隠れた宝石」のような場所。
この町も最近はだんだん開発が進んで、新築の家も立ち始めたけれど、ビーチは信じられないほど静かで平和。何だかこの美しい場所だけが忘れ去られたように。
ワタシたち二人以外は地元の人２人見かけただけ。そして、ワタシはこの場所は永遠に平和に忘れ去られていて欲しいなどと思っている。。。

Below: Hawley Beach, Sheawater TAS, Australia

Compared to the previous visits to Tasmania this was a somewhat painful and emotional one, but in retrospect it was more special in a different way.

前のタスマニア訪問に比べたら今回は何となく辛くて感傷的なものだったけど、
今から思えば、違う意味で「大切」だった気がする。

The sea was rough on our way to Devonport, which made me sick for a little while.
It was the first time I experienced sea-sickness.
Usually it's like sleeping at one night in the rainy season in Japan.

行きの海はひどく荒れて少しの間気持ち悪くなった。
海酔いを体験したのは初めてだった。
普段は梅雨の季節のある夜に寝ているのと同じ感覚。
 
The ground is loose after the interminable rain. Suddenly I'd feel the little quiver of the floor which gradually increases. There is a tinge of anxiety that this mini-earthquakes might develop into the big one, but mostly don't.

地面は絶え間ない雨の後で緩んでいる。突然床が細かく揺れだしたかと思うと、少しずつ揺れが増してくる。
もしかして大きな地震に発展していくかも、っていう心配はちょっとだけあるんだけど、まぁ殆んどそんな事は起きない。

I used to describe these mini-earthquakes at night as 'just like being on a boat in the rough ocean.' This time it got a lot more rough than I expected.

昔、そんな小さな夜の地震を指して「荒海の時に船に揺られているような感覚」なんて言ってた。今回は思ったよりずっと荒れたけどね。
 
These are some photos taken before and after the departure. 

出発前と後の写真 
  
Below: Photos shot on the "Spirit of Tasmania" that sails between Melbourne and Devonport (TAS) Australia.  

 
Till Next Time.

また会う日まで。

Queen's Birthday

We are on a long weekend due to "Queen's Birthday" coming on Monday.

As I was writing an article for my Japanese blog, I suddenly wondered which Queen's birthday celebration it is for.

Wikipedia is a handy tool for any research as you all know.
All you have to do is to type in the keyword and there, there...you get all you want to know...or not???

The result of my wiki-search was shocking.
As usual, I was mumbling in front of PC
Uh, huh...uh, huh...Huh?

Queen's official birthday is actually on April 21, so this celebration is definitely not for her birthday.
So I read on...

According to Wikipedia, Queen's Birthday is NOT queen's birthday after all.
This day originally celebrated the birthday of George V, whose birthday was 3-June. The tradition began in 1788 to celebrate the birthday of the King of England.
However, another source says it was George III(Queen's Grandfather)'s birthday it celebrated, whose birthday was 4-June.

So why was it named 'Queen's Birthday', but not 'King's Birthday'?
That was the question I didn't get the answer.

Wikipedia notes that Queen Elizabeth II's coronation was on 2-June.
Would the celebration have anything to do with it? - I doubt that.
By the way, Elizabeth I was born on 7 Sept 1533.
(You can see that I rely heavily on Wikipedia...although I don't know how accurate the information is.)

In UK her birthday is celebrated on 1st, 2nd and 3rd Saturday in June as well as on her own birthday.

I couldn't get the answer I wanted, but I think Elizabeth II is very fortunate to have her birthday celebrated so many times a year and receive a lot of prezzies!!!

No Title - just about a dear, beautiful memory and friendship.

A good friend of mine lives in Fukuoka city, now with her husband and two daughters.
I haven’t seen her since 1999 but I miss her and think about her a lot.

That summer in 1999 I took Blue Train Asakaze that used to operate between Tokyo and Hakata. I left Tokyo at night to arrive in Hakata by the next morning.
The body of the train was of course painted blue. You know - it’s a ‘blue train’.

The Japanese definition for this type of train is 寝台客車 - which translates to ‘passenger trains with beds’ (which is exactly right) – but for some reason, the tone of the word always made me imagine something more flashy and ritzy, like the one appeared in an early 007 movie.

However, it was nothing like what I was expecting.
That “Blue Train”, from how I remember, was mounted with bunk beds that came with a blanket and an uncomfortable pillow all had the distinctive musty, moldy smell (it might have been just because I bought the cheapest ticket).

That being said, I still liked the train in a funny kind of way.

It was summer but the night air was chilly enough to make me shiver.
There were not many passengers on the train, which was good.
That sort of peaceful silence was welcome.

I was drifting in and out of my sleep all that night.
Every now and then, I heard the distant sound of the doors opening and closing in my half-sleep status, and felt the cool breeze entering the carriage, which became even cooler as the night grew deeper.

Dawn came, and I saw the most beautiful sunrise while the train was crossing over the Kanmonkyo Bridge. As it got closer to Hakata, more passengers came in and the atmosphere became increasingly vibrant.

I was excited.
It was the first time that I was in Kyushu Island.

Fukuoka was (is) a big city and, while the energy was as strong as that of Tokyo, it was of even more cheerful and open kind.

I was there for only 2-3 days so there aren’t many things I can recall, but just like beautiful scenes in a film, every page in the slideshow of memories is incredibly vivid and memorable.

I remember hopping on and off the train randomly - which means I can’t recollect the name of the station.
But I do remember the harsh sun that burned my skin within just one minute of being outside.
It was scorching hot that day.

In the next scene, I see myself meandering somewhere near the station, enjoying the sight of rice crops swaying in the mid-summer wind (or heat wave, rather).

Scene 3 – I see in amazement local kids swimming and playing in the river stream.
The water is as clear as crystal, reflecting the sun,
the light shimmering on the surface.

All those memories are very, very fragmented yet full of colors.

- Funny, it is.

Later I had a long stroll at Oohori Park till dusk and then dropped by one of many ramen stalls in Tenjin area to eat Tonkotsu ramen（that use the soup made from pig bones）.

In the evening the next day, I met the friend of mine at Hakata Station, and had something to eat at some Italian restaurant nearby.
The view from the window was stunning.

It was just a year before coming to Melbourne – oh, I was young back then.
10 years passed by and I still remember that night we had such an intimate talk about ourselves and family and something more private for the first time in our friendship.

It was like a miracle since we met in Tokyo while both of us were taking up the correspondence course at the same university (from which I didn’t graduate), and spent only a few weeks together before seeing each other again after 9 years’ apart.

We continued to write each other letters for all those years – even though we lived so far away from each other. Now we have even larger distance between us.

But that particular night in Hakata for me was one of those precious moments that I would never forget.

 It’s the kind of memory that never fails to bring a smile on my face.

3 unforgetable days in Mt. Macedon

Last Friday was my 5th wedding anniversary with my husband, so we went for a little weekend holiday in Mt. Macedon to celebrate.

Where we stayed was a cabin sited in one of the most picturesque areas in the country town.

It took us a while before we eventually found the place ‘Braeside Bed and Breakfast’.

The time had already passed 4pm and the property was very quiet.

The leafy path was leading to what appeared to be a cottage and a café, surrounded by the breathtaking garden with full of colours and the thick, wide forest ahead.

The faint breeze whispered as it passed through the trees, and fallen leaves danced and made the subtle clattering sound on the ground.

We parked our Mighty Boy close to the main café and looked for the reception.
There was no visible sign of the reception or the office.
We just rang the bell by the door, entered the café and searched for the owner.

Soon Jim, the owner who served as an airplane pilot for over 30 years - entered the café and his wife Julie popped her head out of a room, found us by the front door and gave us the warm invitation.

They looked like a normal retired couple, who run this business partly for their own pleasure, which is to provide their guests with ultimate satisfaction.

There was something special about the place.
Something was amiss - the invisible wall normally exists between the hosts and the guests, that is what I thought was.
The vibe was so intimate and not at all business-like, which made us feel at home almost on the spot.

Apart from the main café were only one cottage and one cabin each.
Neither of them was flashy, yet they were exuding the warm, calming air that none of those inns and hotels seem to have.
The buildings were all timber inside and out, not quite like log houses, but similar.

Jim briefly showed us around the property as he guided us to the cabin.
Our cabin was a perfect little gem situated right by the open land sloping down from the bush ahead.


First thing we saw in the cabin was the inviting fire from the old fire place, and the old looking radio-cassette player and the furniture - all wooden, some of which looked like handmade. And, that, matched the atmosphere perfectly.

Here are some photos of the bathroom.

On the table was an entire loaf of homemade wholemeal bread.
The crust was crunchy and nutty, and the inside was soft and full of flavour.
We didn’t have to go anywhere else, since there was enough area to explore.

During the day we walked up the hill, indulged ourselves with the spell-binding view of the Macedon Range and the clean, fragrant air – and the tranquility.

What a peaceful place it was – we were awaken by the sound of cockatoos crying.



The misty garden with a bunny and a kangaroo made such an ethereal, intriguing picture.

In the afternoon, we mostly spent reading books which were abundant in the bookshelf by the bed.

The meal Julie cooked was another story. She is by far the best cook I’ve ever seen.


She prepared the food all by herself, and the texture of the food – not just the taste, was just exquisite.

Such is the place I would like to call Heaven.




Here’s the link to the site.
Braeside Bed and Breakfast

Strange experience in Japan.

Last year when I took my husband to Japan for the first time, the first thing he felt was people's indifference to Foreigners.

For many Japanese who don't speak foreign language and never dealt with people from overseas, being friendly to them may not be easy - because of the unfamiliarity and the barriers of language and culture.

I told him that friendliness of people really depends on where he goes to and who he talks to. And as days passed by, we met more friendly Japanese.

Strangely enough, there weren't many friendly (western) foreigners either.
For a western bloke who's visiting Japan for the first time, it's a relief to see westerners in Japan.

Yet when we were there, not one of them said 'hi' on the street or on a train.

In the third week we met a couple at an Indian restaurant in Yokohama. The man was American and the girlfriend was a Japanese of my age.
We said hi to them and to our relief, they were friendly. We started talking, somewhere along the line my husband mentioned about 'unfriendly' western people in Japan, and the man agreed pensively.

I'm sure they're different when they are in their native countries, and perhaps they are influenced by Japanese society where strangers don't talk to each other often.
It seems that making friends with other western people in Japan, could be difficult unless you are in a more relaxed environment - like pubs, small restaurants, etc.
If you are living in Japan, you maybe able to meet other foreigners through your Japanese friends, or at work.

Anyway, it was just one month stay and it wasn't long enough to know much about Japan, but, he enjoyed beautiful sceneries, Yakitori, Gyu-tan, On-sen and drinking with some friendly Japanese people.

I bet next time will be a lot more fun.