Chop socky

Based on the assumption that our final few days here are going to be fairly subdued, this weekend was the last shot out of the cannon - two farewells followed by a big day trip out to the country to continue our love affair with dressing up as historical figures and playing silly buggers. With one week to go and counting, it's good to have things organised - we can officially tick off "send boxes", "tidy up" and "walk around a supermarket in a samurai costume".

Obi-Wan Shinobi

As promised, we spent this weekend enjoying our seemingly neverending adolescence - dressing up as ninja and running around making sword noises much as we might have done 20 years ago. We were far from being the only adults in costume and I'm not sure if that's astonishing or completely normal for this country. Once we had dressed up, bought our plastic swords and set out on our ninja scavenger hunt, the answer seemed to come to Sifton in a flash. "Why isn't everyone in Japan doing this right now?"

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.

Wit beyond measure

The Harry Potter costume reached its cymbal-crashing climax on Friday night, helped along in no small part by the enthusiasm arms race of the previous few days. It went from "sorting out our costumes" to "dinner and sorting out our costumes" and then kind of escalated from there.
"You have an oven?" said Len. "I'll bring cake." I can't think of too many things he didn't bring.

...BRILLIANT!

It's been quite an odd week, at least compared to the others of our extremely average existence - a variety of things seem to have stirred up the nest a bit. I don't know how I feel about this - on one level the ants in my pants seem to be enjoying the routine change but on another I just really want to be wasting time on my own terms. I should probably stop thinking every idea is a really good one.

...anybody got a Gryffindor tie I can borrow?

What is this I don't even

There's been a cool change this week, both in the weather and our level of activity, which is probably for the best in both cases. "Silver Week" has just wrapped up, a dual-public-holiday week that was spent gloriously far away from Tokyo and its wallet incinerators. Most notably, Friday was the Sports Festival at one of my schools, which in short is an insane version of the sports carnivals we have at home, featuring tricycles and cardboard box tank treads.

You probably still won't understand when I explain it.

Like the Beatles but hairier

The "big weekend" has come and gone, a true salute to the phrase "when it rains, it pours". I've been trying to work out how to put it into words for a good couple of days now; I'm not entirely sure I've got it right but I'll give it a shot anyway. Needless to say, this is going to be a long post.

The story begins somewhat uninterestingly early last week where one of my Deputy Principals asks if I can shift my working schedule around a bit and come to their Culture Festival. It ends somewhat ridiculously in Kobe with handstands, fake moustaches and beer through a straw. Like a hamburger with too many patties, it's the bit in between that might make things a bit unwieldy.

For Queen and Country

I hadn't heard too much of Saint George to be honest, much less the day named after him, beyond the little picture of him on the side of my beer bottle. I still don't really, aside from the fact that he makes for a mean excuse to run around Kobe with a camera looking for creative interpretations of the word "corgi".

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.

Play that funky music, wasshoi

There's a poetic simplicity to the Naked Man Festival - it doesn't try to be anything other than thousands of men dressed in loincloths beating each other to a pulp to try and get a stick the size of a Coke can. It must be very liberating to stamp on someone's face for that silly a reason. Given the choice between “participant” and “spectator” however, I soundly ticked the latter. The world really doesn’t need to see me in a loincloth.