Goodbye-onara

That's all folks!

And straight on till morning

We had the first of our farewells late last week, kicking off yet another long weekend and marking the official beginning of the end. Not a moment too soon, either - we've got two weeks left and still have an almost absurd number of things to think about. With most of the major stuff organised though, we're now down to the "using up stuff in the fridge" level of detail which is slightly more terrifying than it should be.

Boar 'n' beans

Chaos and disorder now officially reign, like that bit in the movie where gravity fails and everything in the spaceship floats up and off in random directions. After a very odd two days at work on Monday and Tuesday which toggled between boredom and blind panic that I wasn't going to get everything done, the week gave out and I started an impromptu 7 day holiday that I'm now through 5 and a bit days of. In that time we managed to get out to Himeji, Sasayama and anywhere else that least reminded us of job applications and looming deadlines. The gravity kicks back in on Wednesday which I'm not at all upset about; at the moment I'm struggling to focus on anything until it crashes down on me in a heap.

Poison... poison... tasty fish

I don't think I've ever eaten out as many times as we did this weekend, but to our credit we generally got out of our comfort zone a little and tried some new places. One of these in particular was lovely and we'd definitely consider making it a new stomping ground. The other was perhaps the most traumatic dining experience I've ever been through; I think I can fairly safely say that I'm happy to tick fugu (blowfish) off my list and never eat it again.

Ever.

Kicking and screaming

No doubt the worst bit about holidays is the horrendous comedown - the first few days of being back in the grind that really hits home how far from more holidays you are. I made my inglorious return to the workplace on Thursday and for the most part felt like a plump Christmas turkey dreading the sound of knives on sharpeners; I'm a captive audience for the next year and at some point I'm going to have to perform. It's reverse (reverse?) culture shock, I keep telling myself, but that isn't helping me feel any less hunted - my head is full of the faces of disappointed coworkers and empty blog posts. Time to do something about the latter, I think.

Back in black (and white)

And with that, a month at home passes in about as long as it takes your eyes to move from the last post of 2010 to the first of 2011. Welcome back, I suppose, although I don't really feel qualified to be a host at the moment. We've been back in Japan for a week now trying to recalibrate the instruments, mostly shambling around Osaka and Kobe as we used to. The faces, places and bases haven't changed but it doesn't feel entirely natural again yet; I think we've spent enough time in Australia and Japan respectively to defamiliarise us with both. Our first trip to the supermarket was particularly strange - a mundane task in a fantastical world, like taking Gandalf's robe to the drycleaner. There be magic here, just not as you imagined.

Boys and their toys, girls and their pearls

It's hardly even a question any more what we're going to do on a public holiday. Like wolves anticipating a clear night we can feel the need building up in us; the wild impulse to go crashing through the undergrowth, leap out into the moonlight, throw our heads back and bay:
God, that's cheap. Do you reckon it'd go with my shoes?
It's hardly surprising, then, that we spent our Tuesday public holiday in the dark forests of Kobe, snuffling around at bargain tables. Mel and Lisa spent a lot of their time in shoe shops being extremely girly; Adam and I looked at shamelessly masculine things like portable hard drives and bean bags. The giant robot though, that was something everybody could enjoy.

It's nothing to you, but it keeps me alive

I've recently found myself suddenly struck down by term 4-itis, leaving me stranded in the middle of last week with an urgent need to not be at work. I've wondered about the cause - the weather, things currently being in a state of flux, costume anxiety... but perhaps the best explanation is that I've been at work without a break since August and still have 8 uninterrupted weeks to go. 8 weeks is both a crushingly long time and a mere blink before we head home - I'm Shröedinger's exchange teacher, simultaneously wishing it away and cherishing every minute. Until you open my box, at least.

And four beers, thanks

I don't know if it was the daily beers, the constant meals out, no-money poisoning or all of the above, but I am mentally all over the road at the moment; I find my mind drifting constantly. Japan is well and truly Narnia-like, I said to myself as I drifted off last night. The only problem is that rather than grand adventuring with Aslan, I seem content to sit on the couch and drink cups of tea - I tut and draw the curtains on all the centaurs and magic. Is this amazing world behind the wardrobe that few people ever discover wasted on me? Probably. Now get out of the way, I can't see the TV.

Harder than it looks

It's been an interesting week, although not really in a good way. As expected, I passed my doom plague on to Lisa and while it didn't have quite as spectacular an effect on her, it did mean a swift trip out to the hospital (given that there are no GPs here). This turned out to be far less swift than imagined.

A small town lad

You'll be pleased to know that the blog bus didn't go down in fiery ruin as expected, leaving me tapping out my last few pithy jokes at the bottom of a gorge in Nishiwaki. I lived on for at least another prosperous few days of travel, beer and in time, a desperate need to not do anything any more.

Tokyo, I'm sorry - we're just not right for one another.

The true Japanese experience

The work party on Friday night was actually a bit better than I expected, if only for the sake of change. Rather than things disintegrating into karaoke and whiskey (not that there's anything wrong with that), we ended up at a classy bar drinking out of absurdly big wine glasses and being served cheese and chocolate by the Japanese equivalent of Eric Clapton in a waistcoat. This was the first chapter in a recent trend of doing very non-Japanese things. Somewhat ironically, after spending a lot of my downtime last weekend playing a game where you aim to exterminate mankind with a new virus, I've found myself struck down by another doom flu. It's really not doing much for my sense of adventure wanting to leave KFC.

Another year over, 35 days after it started

Exam time has now officially started in chilly Kobe (and the rest of Japan, for that matter), which means it's a month of no classes followed by end-of-year holidays. I've just had Aussie summer holidays and my natural rhythm had me primed and prepped for another full year, which makes things very confusing. I started the marathon 200m from the finish line and now I'm staring at my winner's trophy with a very strange expression on my face.

The greatest trick culture shock ever played...

was convincing the world it didn't exist, to butcher the old adage.

I'll be fine, I thought - I've been there before, I've done the work thing, it'll be easy as pie. Which seemed a bit silly when I was curled up in the bathtub on the 2nd night with my head resting against the cold of the wall.