White Heat

For a high-tech country Japan adopts some pretty low-tech solutions. Mostly this has to do with keeping as many people as possible in some kind of employment - how else could you explain the old man in a hard hat and rubber flip-flops directing non-existent traffic around clearly-marked roadworks on a narrow backstreet? Or elderly ticket collectors who stand behind desks within touching distance of a self-service machine? All day today I watched two women work a 200-metre stretch of road with a twine brush and a dustpan the size of half a sledge, sweeping zelkova leaves into piles by the pavement. When they left at four, the road was no cleaner than it had been when they started.

Cooling Off

The middle of week seven. We've snuck past halfway. It's right about this time that things normally begin to cool - relationships as quickly as the climate. The danger of doing short-term work in a country as alien as Japan is that you wind up teaching, living and socializing with at least one person who you'd barely give the time of day to under any other circumstances.

In my experience this never ends well.

Hiking the Western Tama

The view from Mount Jinba, slap bang on the border of Tokyo and Kanagawa prefectures. I was home at two this morning, and back on the train for half past six. Four peaks and a long way later we made it to the rundown town by Sagamiko Lake just as the streetlights were coming on.

Coming Home

I started my last day in Matsumoto in a hotel onsen. The morning breeze blew dark red leaves into the outdoor pool. Through the steam I looked up at a pale blue sky and densely forested hills. Except for a fat man from Gibraltar, I had the whole place to myself.

Afterwards I whizzed round town Japanese-style, on the back of a mama-chari (mother's bike). The centre
had been closed for a festival. Stall fronts flapped in the wind, there was the smell of red beans and fried noodles, teenagers jumped around to hip-hop on a stage under traffic lights, a jazz band played in front of a cafe, a dance troupe blocked a street. By the time it got dark, we were already halfway home.

Stuff I Learned This Week

That even for a story about a Sunderland supporter becoming chancellor of Sunderland University, the mackems still need to go to Newcastle to take a pretty picture.

Joey Barton is actually a very good footballer, but still an accident waiting to happen.

A Confederacy of Dunces gets a whole lot better one hundred pages in.

A single vowel can make a very big difference (For the record, go-con is an innovative Japanese dating strategy whereby five men and five women hook-up in a public place; gokan will get you twenty years in jail - and a certain kind of respect from at least one of your male students).

It's possible to get sick of tofu. And curry rice.

Going to Shibuya dressed as Andy Warhol gets the girls. Going to Starbucks with a Teach Yourself Japanese book doesn't.

Lemsip really works. Eventually.

Kamikochi

Twenty-six, twenty-one, eighteen kilometres to go. The speedometer flickered around 40, we entered yet another concrete tunnel. Over my shoulder middle-aged Japanese sat quiet and uncomplaining on fold-out seats in the aisle; two women picked up a conversation in French. The engine strained, the driver pushed a button to start another loop of adverts, traffic built-up patiently on the road behind.

The walk to Myojin Pond was flat and sunny, but the Japanese were dressed for a National Geographic expedition: waterproof boots, gaiters, retractable hiking poles, top-of-the-range Nikons with metre-long lenses and tripods, Gortex hats, designer jackets, and bells on their backpacks to ward off bears.

Which is slightly over the top when the biggest danger you face is the threat of a falling leaf.

The Teacher's Voice

Since I came back from holiday I've been struggling to maintain a dynamic classroom presence while sounding like Macy Gray post-laryngectomy. For a language teacher losing your voice is about the worst thing that can happen to you, but right now it's calamitous. According to the terms of my contract, if I can't teach I not only lose a day's salary but also have to make-up the lessons on "a normal business day" - i.e. I get stuck with more work for zero extra pay.

This is, indisputably, a bastard.

A Change Is Gonna Come

We got the news between classes, in the first afternoon break. The two Americans I work with got all excited, their teenage, one-party-state, shopaholic students were mostly nonplussed. "So guys, did you hear the news? Obama won. He`s the first black president...he beat McCain."
There was a moment's silence. "Who...who`s McCain?"

Matsumoto Castle

Local Train to Matsumoto

The conductor walked the length of the train, touching the peak of his cap and bowing as he entered and left each carriage. Two old women in hiking boots passed boiled sweets to each other; the man opposite, bent forwards by the angle of his iron-hard seatback, turned another page in his book, bound in shiny brown envelope paper; people slept, their heads lolling around with the movement of the train. I folded my legs under the seat and tried my best to sleep between stations, opening my eyes to see a children's cartoon map of Fuji, persimmon trees, people dragging bikes in bags. As we pulled into Matsumoto a piped voice announced our arrival, drawing out the final syllable until we were halfway up the stairs. All around the station there were snow-capped mountains.