Tuesday, April 18, 2006
Naked Men
In Japan, nudity really isn't an issue. And I've gotten used to it now. So I'm wandering across the changing rooms, butt naked, and I see something I'm not expecting... A Tattoed Man. Huge tattooes across his back. I think, in sequence: "Oh my god, he's Yakuza. Oh my god, i'm naked too. And I'm staring at another man." Scurry off to shower.
Later that evening, bad mood, as I screwed up an interview with KBC. A couple of days later, good mood, as Merrill Lynch offer me a job. Then a better mood still, as I dream about heading off to an island. Just me and my [current] best friend. She brings me clarity. She's fantastic at making conversation. She's Scottish.
Took Friday and Monday off, wrestled with some bureaucracy during the day on Friday, met Paul at Toki in the evening, had a few for the road. Jumped on an overnight ferry down to Shikinejima. The island that nobody has heard of.
Woke up, fell off the ferry, and got hailed by a man who called me "Wendy-san". He had a T-shirt which had a kanji which matched the one on my map, and he looked friendly, so I followed him. First day, rented a bicycle, toured the entire 4km2 island, snapping Canon happy. Look mum, nooooo hands! I survived dropping the bike a couple of times, and fell asleep on the beach. There are 600 people on the island in total, and I came across hardly anyone. I cycled out for a couple of hours at a time without even hearing another person. Quite a world away from Shinjuku. Later, met a couple of Japanese girls who told me that the onsen was open at night. Do you want to go? {pause whilst i pondered carefully....}. It was amazing. Imagine being outdoors, in a boiling hot natural spring, staring out at the ocean, and up at the stars on a secluded tiny island. And nobody else around. Went back the next morning for photos. This was the detox I needed from too many hours spent working for megacorp in the megaopolis. No internet and no keitai.
Had a couple of wierd dreams:
- That I was in someway connected with the guarding of Saddam Hussein around the time when he is facing death by electrocution.
- That I was sentenced to death myself, and just remember being so incredibly irritated by the pressure of closing out all the loose ends. Like moving house, country, job, all at the same time. At the end of the tax year. God, I hate taxes. More than death.
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