The Year of the Wild Boar

So ends 2007. For the Japanese it was the 19th year of the Heisei era, and also the year of the wild boar. For myself, as for many of you, it was a year of change; of mistakes made and lessons learnt; and of big decisions. Some were difficult, others heartbreaking. When I think back to this time last year, I can’t help but shake my head in amazement.

There were, in fact, plenty of good times. There was my trip through Korea, China, and Mongolia, a trip that earned me a very good friend. Then some friends here in Japan got married and had a baby. There was also an unforgettable trip to Okinawa. And most recently there was my brief trip home to Australia—for a reunion with friends and family and another wedding—which was followed by another random little trip upon my return to Japan.

Of course no year passes without its more trying moments. For me, for this year, there were / are two such moments. The first was a fateful night in Tokyo followed, shortly thereafter, by a severe change in relationship status. The second was the demise of Nova, the private language school I was working for. Everything, it seemed, was crumbling down around me all at once. It was a reminder of how fragile everything is. But it wasn’t, and isn’t, all bad. And with endings come new beginnings.

So what does 2008—the 20th year of the Heisei era and the year of the mouse—have in store?

Who among us can say with any certainty? I do suspect that I’ll be moving on from this place—Fukuoka—I’ve called home for the last three years. Whether it is to another city in Japan, elsewhere abroad, or back home to Australia, I’m not yet sure. But I dare say, in twelve months time, I’ll be shaking my head again.

NB: stay posted for a photo essay of the random trip I mentioned above, and of Christmas.

Japan Culture Lab - Sushi

ようこそ、テロリスト！

Well that was quick. A week in Australia--in Newcastle, in Sydney--and before I know it I'm here typing this in a tiny internet cafe booth (1x2M) in Shinjuku, Tokyo. The booth, by the way, is also my accommodation for the night, costing about AU$12.

No more meat pies. No more roast dinners or legs of lamb on the barbie. No more schooies, no more middies, and definitely no more punting. The best thing about going back to Australia was, of course, catching up with all, or nearly all, my friends and family. The strangest part of the trip was spending a few nights in my old bedroom in mum's house. It was like a time capsule. Stepping into it was like stepping three years into the past. The same old posters up on the walls, a few photos from high school and uni, some dusty CD's and text books and essays and reports scattered about on my old dusty desk. And when I woke up in my big ol' comfortable bed I wondered whether Japan had just been a dream.

The trips most ironic moment happened pretty much as soon as I touched down in Sydney. Strutting down one of the near empty Australian and New Zealand citizen lanes, towards the passport inspection counters, I felt a deep and satisfying sense of ha-ha-look-who's-the-foreigner-nowiness as I passed hundreds of my Japanese co-passengers who were of course lined up in the Non-Australian citizen lanes. Now before I go on, I should explain that just days before, Japan had become only the second country in the world to begin fingerprinting and photographing foreigners entering the country. Ostensibly, it is supposed to reduce the risk of a terrorist attack happening in Japan. The minister of (in)justice justified it with words along the lines of, "There is evidence of Al Qaida members entering and reentering Japan on numerous occassions. In fact, a friend of a friend of mine is an Al Qaida member...So, err, what I mean is, the point I'm trying to make..." and so on, digging himself a nice little hole. So while the only person in Japan with links to Al Qaida is the minister of justice, us foreigners are being treated like cattle with criminal impulses.

So perhaps now you can understand why I was so "Carn the ANZACS!" as I gleefully strolled towards the passport inspection counter. But then, when I was just a few metres away from the big red line that says STOP, a Japanese tour guide began ushering her charges into OUR lane; and then we were the JANZACS and I ended up waiting in line behind a couple of Japanese gents. And what did the Australian immigration officials have to say about this? It wasn't GET IN THE PROPER LINE OR WE'LL HAVE YOU GITMO'd. It was "How ya goin'?" "No worries, in ya go. 'Ave a good one."

What can I say? Such is life. Anyway, getting through immigration at Tokyo was no big deal. In addition to all the concerns about invasion of privacy and whatnot, there had also been a lot of talk about how long and tedious the process of photographing and fingerprinting everyone would be. But I can now tell you it took only a few seconds and was quite painless.

So that's it for the wrap up of my trip home. From tomorrow I'll be embarking on another mini-trip, this one semi-planned and uncosted. First stop, Kamakura. Or Kobe. Or maybe Nara. We'll I'll let you know tomorrow anyway.