A Climber's Chronicle of Mount Fuji

Day One - 7:00am: The day has arrived and I am extremely excited! This is probably one of the only things (apart from Christmas Day) that I don't mind getting up early for, and the time is necessary to get everything ready. After a quick shower, I make a large protein-filled breakfast that should hopefully get me through most of the day. I then pack the rucksack that will help me survive for the next two days (equipment list included at the end).

Day One - 8:30am: Meet the group outside my accomodation. We walked in a group of 4 which was the perfect number in my opinion. We then walked to catch the bus that would take us to the subway station, to then catch the subway to Nagoya JR Station.

Day One - 10:00am: After a few small obstacles with the tickets (it was around ¥3000 more expensive than we had thought it would be) we caught the Shinkansen from Nagoya to Mishima. This transport system has a reputation for being one of the fastest and most efficient in the world and it certainly lived up to that expectation. It was FAST!

Day One - 12:00pm: We arrived at Mishima station with the intention of catching a bus from there to Fuji! Sadly technology let us down again, as the bus we had planned for (which the website said ran EVERYDAY from July 1st onwards) was not running that day. We therefore had to pay an additional ¥2200 to catch a bus from Mishima to Kawaguchiko.

Day One - 13:30pm: Kawaguchiko is one of the most famous starting points for climbers of Fuji-san and runs regular buses from the bus station to Fuji-Subaru Line 5th Station. We were able to buy a last minute round trip ticket to the 5th station for ¥2000 each. This, the bus from Mishima and the extra money on the Shinkansen ticket was a lot more money to get to Fuji than we had planned for but was well worth it in the end!

Day One - 15:00pm: We arrived at Fuji-Subaru Line 5th Station after a terrifying bus ride. The 5th Station is more than halfway up the mountain at 2,305m and as such there is a hell of a lot of cloud. Driving through that at 50mph along winding mountain roads was a little nerve-racking. Fuji-Subara 5th Station is the last point at which any point of normality exists, there are toilets, shops, restaurants etc. This is also the place where all the coaches drop off and the point at which the majority of climbers start their ascent so it is full of Gai-jin! We spent around an hour here doing various last minute things.We ate a bowl of ramen, had a quick cup of coffee, went to the toilet and stocked up on 'oxygen' and water.

Day One - 16:30pm: We began our trek up the side of one of the highest mountains in the world. We started off in good spirits and at a fantastic pace. The estimation times written on all the signposts (for example 'Mt. Fuji summit - 6.7km, 385 minutes') were broad generalisations probably taking into account that people of all shapes, sizes and ages climb Fuji. In all cases we were quicker than the estimations, some considerably so.

Day One - approx 18:00pm: Reached the 7th station and paused for a rest. The cloud had started to clear on the way up, giving us a breathtaking view of the landscape, providing a fantastic photo opportunity and serving as motivation to power on and climb higher. However as we neared the 7th station the cloud once more rolled in to the point of near-zero visibility and a lot of moisture in the air. We took some water here, I bought a snickers bar at an extortionate rate (about £2.60), and we sampled the canned oxygen (Useless). We then pressed on with the intention of reaching the summit before sunset, as the pace was still good, we were making excellent progress and it would be an amazing experience.

Day One - approx 19:00pm: The gradient from the 7th station onwards suddenly gets a hell of a lot steeper, and the path a little more treacherous. Suffice to say we regrettably did not make it for the sunset, and somewhere around the 8th station we were now beginning to get a little tired after climbing around 1000m over approximately 4km. With darkness setting in it was time to light our torches and make the final push for our accomodation at 8.5 Station.

Day One - 20:00pm: We finally arrived at the hut we would be staying at for the night (or some of it at least). After checking in and paying the fee (¥6500, including a meal [¥5500 yen without]) we took off our boots, placed our bags on our beds and settled down to dinner. After walking for what seemed like a lifetime, the humble meal provided seemed like a banquet. A cup of hot tea, and a bento (lunch box) consiting of rice, a hamburger, potato and a salad tasted delicious! Extra drinks were available for an additional price, including beer. As soon as dinner was finished we collapsed in to bed and enjoyed a well deserved rest.

Day Two - 02:00am: What an AWFUL nights sleep. The huts on the top of Fuji, although providing a well needed place to relax and rest, are akin to concentration camps. Within the sleeping rooms there are just row upon row of futons with one average sized hut typically sleeping 200 sweaty people. Two pillows per one duvet cover so if you walk in an odd number be prepared to share a bed with a stranger. On one side I had one of our group attempting to snuggle up to my back, and on the other an unknown caucasian man elbowing me in the head everytime he turned over. Top that off with a midnight toilet trip in freezing temperatures and all in all it was not the best night i've ever spent. However we're up, dressed and ready to climb. After piling on a total of 5 extra layers we set off for the summit.

Day Two - 02:30am: Climbing a mountain at night, especially a famous mountain in climbing season where the traditional way to do it is at night, is an experience I will never forget. There is no longer such a thing as pace, there is no room to overtake and doing so would be irresponsible and dangerous. Instead you climb, step by step, in a long line of climbers like a moonlit Conga (minus the music). If you should glance upwards you can see a snaking line of torches and headlamps meandering its way to the top. A breathtaking experience (although that could have been the altitude).

Day Two - 03:00am: We reached the summit and made our way through the crowd of climbers already waiting to a spot that suited us on a peak further round the crater. We settled down to wait as the sunrise wasn't due for another hour or so. This was the perfect time for breakfast, so we tucked in to the bags of mixed fruit and nuts that I generously had bought and shared out. I also sneakily ate the bar of snickers I had bought yesterday, at that price there was no way I was sharing that! Even though I had 3 layers on my bottom half, 5 Layers on my top half, gloves and everything tucked in to everything else it was still freezing! I should have packed more layers.

Day Two - 04:30am: Camera's at the ready, the surrounding landscape had been getting increasingly lighter since we ascended the summit and now the first tip of the red disk appeared in the distance. The sunrise viewed from such an elevated level is a surreal experience, and one which truly allows you to see the justification for the nickname "land of the rising sun". To begin with a red disk rose slowly out of the mist from what I assumed was the horizon, however as the full circle appeared the top of the circle turned bright orange and the sun itself (in the form we recognise it) started to ascend. Seeing the process repeated, firstly with a glowing red ball, and then with the ultra-bright orange sphere, was a majaestic moment and one that will stay with me for life. After blinding myself by looking for the full 6 minutes (and yes there is a video) we took some stereotypical pictures and then began the descent to beat the rush. I am still perplexed as to why there were two sunrises, so if any of our readers are inclined towards science, please comment and explain. In the meantime enjoy one of them



Day Two - 05:00am: We had though the climb up was treacherous in places, but descending the same path is much more so as a steep step up is easier than one down, and also using our hands to help wasn't really an option. Careful foot placement and stepping slightly sideways saved the day. If the worse came to the worst, there was around a hell of a lot of people below us to break the fall. We reached 8.5 Station for the second time, quickly removed a few layers as even at the early time of the morning it was beginning to get warm, and purchased a few drinks. I should have gone to the toilet here, but opted not to and regretted it for another 2 hours. We decided to climb down through the bulldozer paths that dissect fuji and run from the top to the bottom (or bottom to top depending on your perspective) as these would provide a change of scenery from the path we had ascended yesterday.

Day Two - 06:00am: The bulldozer paths, although very quick, are boring. They simply zig zag there way monotously down the mountainside with the same view and not so many people to interact with. In addition to this they are more difficult to walk on (especially descending) as they are composed of gravel and thus not a firm surface. Keeping balance is challenging, and slowing down is even more so, resulting in two stumbles myself and an impressive barrel roll from another of our group. A few cuts and scrapes later and we had reached the 7th Station emergency toilets. Here I took a much needed pit stop and we proceeded onwards. Having been up since 2am, and with the weather being so bright and glorious, it felt like it should be around noon already; it was going to be a long day.

Day Two - 07:00am: We reached the 6th Station, where the two paths converge once more and continued to our final destination of Fuji-Subaru 5th Station. We were once more surrounded by civilisation and exchanged 'Good Mornings' with the people that we passed. They looked so optimistic and happy, so full of energy and naive. We looked the opposite, drained of energy and sleep deprived. The roles of yesterday had been reversed when we were the energetic optimistic adventurers, commenting on the dejected looks of the descenders.

Day Two - 08:00am: With a last burst of energy, and a profound feeling of triumph, we strolled back in to 5th Station. We congratulated each other, and wallowed in our own feelings of success. We had achieved what we set out to do, a considerable feat and one to be proud of. Now to sit and wait for our bus, to begin the long sleep-filled journey home. Fuji was a magnificent experience and one that I will fondly remember for as long as I live. I may come back in the future, but there is a Japanese Proverb that says 'a wise man climbs Fuji once, a fool does so twice.' We shall see.

Equipment:
Rucksack (preferably with chest and stomach straps to help support back)
Walking boots (or sensible walking shoes, with ankle support)
WaterProof Trousers
WaterProof Jacket
(These two proved unecessary as the weather was glorious, but it is ALWAYS better to be safe than sorry, as would have been dangerous without if it did rain)
Thermals; Long legged bottoms and undershirt.
2 x T-shirt (one short sleeved, one long sleeved)
Trousers (NOT denim)
Walking socks (or two pairs of thin socks)
First Aid Kit (Plasters, Dressing, Antiseptic Cream, Pain Relief Gel)
Water (At least 2 Litres)
Food
Gloves (Hat and scarf also advisable if climbing at night)
Torch (would recommend a head light but handheld is better than nothing)
Phone (in case of emergency)
Sun Cream
Money (in case of emergency)

CAMERA !!

Thanks for reading, and if it inspires you to climb or helps you to do so... GOOD LUCK!

　
Simon Birkmyre
Mt Fuji -  Shizuoka, Japan

The Single Girl's Guide to Magaluf

I never realised it was possible to judge the tone of a holiday from the flight alone until I was on the 05.40 from Gatwick to Palma last Thursday, and the group of twelve lads sat in front of me (who I can only guess were holidaying in celebration of one of them hitting puberty) decided it was acceptable to wolf-whistle the air hostess not only when she was pointing out the emergency exits – coz safety is so sexy – but for the entire flight. Then ordering those tiny, over-priced beers, all before 7 a.m.

Palma International Airport serves the infamous party destination of Magaluf, also known for reasons I need not explain as Shagaluf. I stayed in Palma Nova, about a twenty-five minute walk away from Magaluf and the location of two types of people:
1) Those who didn’t realise how close Palma Nova is to Magaluf, and
2) Those who are pretending they didn’t realise how close Palma Nova is to Magaluf.

You can decide which category I fell into… either way, my friends and I adopted the flawless phrase of “When in Maga…”, and handed over our Monopoly-money-Euros for tickets for our weekend in Magaluf, despite being half-warned by the receptionists at our hotel that “we seem like nice girls”…

It all started at 3 p.m on Magaluf beach where we boarded BCM’s Boat Party – also known as a Booze Cruise. I was doomed the moment I uttered that fateful phrase: “I’m not going to drink that much”… If you don’t like drunk people, or stupid drinking games then never ever go on a Boat Party… and if you do, and it’s your Birthday, don’t admit it – unless you want a guy sitting on you with his mangina.

The DJ on the boat was just horrendous, and didn’t get any less horrendous the more I drank – every time he told a girl to get her tits out I could feel feminism backtracking. Don’t worry though, according to my friends I let him know what I thought of him.

Post-Boat Party, I found myself in another bar before attempting to return to the hotel. Imagine the walk home from a club in England, say at about 2 a.m – make-up is crumbling off your face and you’re walking like a newborn giraffe? Well that was me, but at about 6.30 in the evening, just as the sophisticated but geography-challenged vacationers of Palma Nova were preparing for an evening stroll or a nice dinner.

After passing out for a while, we then left for Magaluf one more time at about 2 a.m. After a few clubs we went to BCM: the largest club on the island. Two words: Free. Bar.

So Magaluf has this dodgy reputation which I don’t think is wholly deserved. Yes, my friends were chatted up by two guys who walked away the minute they refused to go back to their hotel. And yes, I did spot a cheeky condom on the floor of the water party.

Magaluf is like double-strength orange squash without any water…
I’ve met the sort of guys and girls in Magaluf all over the place: Southampton, Liverpool… I’ll never forget the unexpected and unwelcome back massage I was given outside a club in the South of France a few years ago; it’s just that in Magaluf it’s so much more concentrated. Sex is expected and easy... but it's optional.

However, I often make the assumption in clubs at home that guys in clubs or bars aren’t worth any serious consideration. But hang on, I’m out with my friends in a club, and we’re nice, normal girls. Plus my male friends go out, and they’re decent… and I suddenly, drunkenly realised that the same applies to Shagaluf.  

So don’t be put off by the prospect of having to wear a full on wetsuit to avoid the std filled sea… if you love going out then I would fully recommend Magaluf. I had the best night out of my life, and I’ve been out a lot.

And anyway, some of the names of the beaches, hotels or bathrooms of a restaurant would make pretty original baby names…

Harriet Baker


Thank you to my best friends Becca and Alice, who fully had my back in Magaluf, and for filling in the blanks so I could write this article :)

Just for Amusement

Simon Birkmyre

Onsen: How to Look Good Naked

Onsen: Definition - Traditional Japanese hot spring pools where naked is the norm.

I figured that it would be rude to travel 6000 miles and not boil myself naked. On learning we were free to use all the facilities available, at our leisure and without charge, I had meant to sample this unique life experience last night. However, previous occupations (i.e. the bar) kept me from my aim and, in hindsight, a bath is never a good idea on a full stomach. So, at 7am on a brisk April morning, here I am in this majestic communal bathtub. The way I see it; I like people, and I like baths, so the two together can't be all that bad...  can it???

Following the signs for 'Onsen' I pass through the spa reception. 'Ohayo Gozaimasu' (Good Morning), a quick bow and I am through the strict formalities of hospitality and into the binary opposite of nakedness.

Enter the dressing room. Similar to the changing room of a Western swimming pool, these are filled with lockers, benches, toilets, and humans in various stages of nudity. While similar in many ways there are also stark differences. In a large alcove to the left of the lockers is a series of chairs and mirrors with complimentary hairbrushes, combs, hair dryers, shaving foam and razors. There in the corner is the inevitable elderly naked man in all his glory. Brilliant.

Now the worst of the experience is surely over, I undress and with a confident and inspiring flourish of recklessness I quickly and willingly remove all clothing. It's similar to taking off a plaster: if you don't do it quickly you won't do it at all. And Hell, if you've got it, flaunt it.

On through to the meat of the business. In addition to a sauna there are a number of shower cubicles. Here I am using cubicles in the loosest sense of the term as it is more of a number of shower heads in an open space with no hint of privacy. Great.

After briefly but thoroughly washing myself with the complimentary shampoo and shower gel I am now at a loss as to what to do. I am ashamedly ignorant of onsen etiquette. Regrettably, the only option is to covertly study what others do. I say 'covertly' because everyone is obviously naked, and by looking I do not wish to give the wrong impression. I would at this point like to point out that I also avoided eye contact with any intimate parts. It's as obvious as our Western mind would imagine it to be. There is a pool of boiling water. You climb into it. As Ronseal would say, it does what it says on the tin, albeit the tin is in Japanese so you have to translate it first.

So after an indefinite amount of time casually sitting there and being stared at due to my pale demeanour, I begin to feel bored. Aside from the elderly man trying to catch my eye, this is exactly the same as bathtime at home. Novelty surpassed.

No.

Before leaving I turn to glance out of the window (partly for the view and partly to avoid the attempted eye contact; I'm social but there are limits) and what should greet my wandering gaze but a boiling, steaming jacuzzi in the freezing cold morning air. I would be disappointing my loyal and loving readership if I did not experience this phenomenon and relate it to you.

Swinging my towel casually by my side, I nonchalantly walk naked from the pool inside to the pool outside. The journey, although short, was freezing (and I am certainly not looking forward to the return) but I must say it was well worth the effort.

Similar to the grossly irritating habit of removing 3D glasses to 'check what it is like without them' I am ashamed to admit I spent the first few minutes playing the hot/cold game. Submerge your arm, raise your arm, submerge your arm, raise your arm, hot, cold, hot, cold. I know, I'm sad.

***

I briefly pause my account to bring you the live action news story that a man has just climbed naked into the pool with a soaking, cold, white flannel on top of his shiny bald head - and subsequently I cannot breathe for laughing

***

After sitting admiring my new surroundings for a few minutes I noticed that the Jacuzzi was EXTREMELY powerful and spent the next few minutes manouvering my back and neck to various points of tension. Suffice to say I looked like some sort of obscure sea creature performing a mating ritual and got stared at... a lot, but for all they know it could be a Western ritual that I need to perform for religious reasons so I exhibit no shame.

I then made the decision to collect pen and paper from my room and compose this wondrous piece of work, which I hope you deeply appreciate as my note pad is ruined due to condensation and/or splashing.

In conclusion, I would definitely recommend the onsen to any visiting Westerner. Embrace the culture, relax your Western inhibitions and you will come away a changed person, ultimately more relaxed. 'When in Rome' is a phrase I seem to use a lot in this country, but it is fitting. If, however, you cannot afford the trip, buy a bigger bath, invite some friends, boil many kettles and improvise.

With those unwise words I leave you. It's time for breakfast. Ohayo.

Simon Birkmyre

Nisshin, Japan

Insomnia Can Be Beautiful

On returning home in the early hours of the morning, most people have only two things on their mind; food and sleep. I, being of a more 'unique' disposition, could only think how close it was to dawn, and how seeing as I was already awake it would be a waste of my existence if I didn't get dressed once more and head out at 5am to watch the sunrise at the top of the insanely steep hill.

With that in mind I piled on all the layers I could find, packed a camera and my room key and headed out. A moment of panic ensued when I saw the amount of daylight already around and I nearly foolishly turned back. With a silent cry of 'what the hell' I continued my dawn expedition. I crossed the road and entered what can only be described as 'The Graveyard' that resides behind our apartments. Walking alone through row upon row of poorly-lit headstones and statues, while all around me the bamboo plants knock together and whisper, was probably one of the most surreal and chilling experiences of my life - and if I'm honest not one that I'm in a hurry to repeat - but the ultimate goal was worth it and so on I spurred.

I had left later than was ideal and tried to make up the time by jogging which was not a good move for a number of reasons: firstly, I do not jog - I tried it once and nearly had a hernia; secondly, great heavy walking boots that lace up to the shin are not conducive to running; finally, I had not taken in to consideration the VERY steep gradient of the hill I was attempting to run up. All of this combined to nearly be the death of me, and I promptly started walking instead. No point running to the top for the sunrise, if you're not alive to see it. I reached the summit in time for the prize I had sought: although the surrounding landscape was now completely visible the sun itself had not crested the peak of the distant mountain.

I never knew the sky could be so many colours at any one time. Dark blue behind and around me where the essence of the night still existed, fading slowly to paler shades as it reached the Eastern horizon. At that point the blue merged with a light yellow, which transformed gradually to gold, orange and, finally, a deep red at the tip of the mountain. As the sun made it's unseen ascent behind that curtain of rock, the silhouettes of the distant landscapes came in to increasingly sharper focus. I only wish I was able to paint or draw with any degree of skill.

At this point I realised I wasn't alone. Apparently insomnia is rife in Japan. To the left of me, engaged in exactly the same activity, were three Japanese men of around similar age. A mutual smile and a quick greeting of 'Ohayo' (Good morning) and we each went back to our private reveries.

The moment had come. A shared breath of anticipation, and a communal scrabbling for cameras or phones in order to capture this picturesque point in time. A blinding point of red light peered over the peak of the distant mountain and within minutes the full burning disk was visible. Although it was blinding, it was almost impossible to look away. A truly mesmerising moment. With one final sigh of contentment I took a last glance at my newly-lit surroundings, gave a courteous nod to my unknown companions and headed for home.

I was all for returning to bed when I passed the shinto temple. Something made me turn away from the winding hill, and instead make the ascent up the steep steps to the arched façade of the Buddhist building. There was an ethereal quality to the experience of walking through those grounds at such a quiet time of the morning. The word 'tranquil' just doesn't quite cover it. As the rising sun touched each stone grave, the dawn chorus of birds provided the soundtrack to my solitary journey.

I returned home around an hour after leaving, but in such a short space of time I felt a profound difference within me. I felt closer to something. I have never been a religious person but after this morning I can almost see why some people are. Humbled is what I am, truly humbled by the beauty of the world around me.

Sayonara.

Simon Birkmyre

Nisshin, Japan

Author's note: The picture used is my own, taken by my own hand on the morning in question.

The Japanese Supermarket

IRASSHAIMASE!

Regardless of which establishment you have entered, be it the reception desk of a business, the waiting area of a restaurant or the foyer of a supermarket, you will hear this phrase. Roughly translated it means 'how may I help you' / 'come on in' and, luckily enough for the perplexed tourist who hasn't managed to grasp the local language, it needs no answer. A simple smile and nod of the head will suffice.

The weekly shop is a daunting task in any circumstance. Not many people would admit to enjoying spending a considerable portion of their day heaving a large metal vehicle with the week's food around a brightly-lit, overcrowded maze with the mythological minotaur sat at a bleeping machine and asking if you would like help with your packing. Take this familiar situation and add to it the fact that you can't ask where something is because nobody speaks your language, you can't read the flavours or ingredients on the packets and so have to shop completely based on the picture, you can only just about remember the way home, and the Japanese world and his wife has chosen this particular hour of this particular day to also do their weekly shop. Welcome to my world.

The fruit and veg aisle in an Asian supermarket should be a tourist attraction in its own right. Similar to the Western sport of boxing, two fully-grown adults will tear each other to bits over who takes home a particularly prime Pak Choi. All I want to do is find the food I recognise and move on, but sadly that is not to be; instead I have to stand behind the matriarchal family while they load up THREE baskets of cabbage and bean sprouts and bicker about the price. To pass the time I engage in a staring contest with the Japanese toddler who can't seem to understand why a white man is in his country.

After refusing to pay the equivalent of around £35 for a single, solitary melon I accept the fact I'm never going to have fruit again and after deftly grabbing a pack of onions, I make my way to the next aisle. It's nice to know as I slowly veer into the shelf full of jars that the autonomy of shopping trolley wheels is universal. My eyes fruitlessly scan the shelves for anything I recognise so I begin to base my purchases solely on colour/font and the artistic quality of the picture.

'No idea what it is or how to cook it, but the dragon on the front looks content so it must be nutritious and fulfilling.'

I'm also limited in my choice of foods (as if the other restrictions weren't choking enough) by the fact that I only have a one-ring burner to cook with. Everything must either be fried or boiled, so eggs are great! There is a microwave but again the language barrier defeats me.

Eventually, after meandering slowly through each aisle staring ignorantly at each product and generally getting in peoples' way ('sumimasen' - 'excuse me') I found some tins with pictures I recognised and stocked up on mackerel, tuna, sweetcorn and pineapple. I have no idea what to do with them, but it's nice to know what it is you are buying.

On to the fridges and in this cold section we find a tranquil peace. Even the most eurocentric mind, ignorant of any language save their own, would struggle to get lost in the meat and fish section of a supermarket. My eternal thanks go to Ralph Wiley for inventing Cling Film. In this, the final aisle, I was able to pick up chicken breast, diced steak, bread and eggs, and so begins the basis of my self-catered life.

As I tentatively made my way to the checkout, I passed what can only be described as a godsend. There in a small refrigerated unit sat ready-wrapped single portions of noodles for the equivalent of about 10p. A staple food and much needed source of carbohydrates had been found for an unbelievably affordable price. All I had to do now was find the things to go with it.

Japanese shopkeepers have a habit of endlessly talking at you while serving. They must surely be able to tell from my pale skin and blank face that I understand nothing of what they say, yet still they talk. In a wonderful show of Japan's unsurpassed mastery of technology I am passed from one machine to another. The smiling/talking cashier scans my shopping on one computer then puts it all back in the same basket and motions me to anoher bank of computers where I insert my reciept from his till, and pay the designated amount at this one. On the upside, these are automated so I have no guilt in offloading ALL my coins to pay the bill.

All-in-all, although overwhelming in places, my venture has ultimately been a success. My weekly shop came to ¥1745, the equivalent of around £16.

Sayonara!

Simon Birkmyre

Nisshin, Japan

Self-Sufficiency: A Whole New World

Having lived independently for nearly 2 years, I had thought I had a fair grasp of the concept of self sufficiency. Sadly since living in a studio apartment I have come to know the error of my misconception.

Up until the age of 18, like the majority of children bought up in a structured, nurturing family unit, I lived with my parents and suffice to say I didn't do a lot. I would do 'chores' around the house for pocket money, but if I neglected to then it wasn't the end of the world. Nine times out of ten my adoring and long suffering mother would perform the task that I, in my reckless youth, had abondoned for more enjoyable pursuits. For that I am ever grateful, however I am now beginning to regret my luxurious younger years for the binary opposite it now presents.

At 18 I moved out of the family home and in to live with my Fiancee and her family. This is where the confusion began with the defining of terms. As i now paid my way, with my own money earned through hard graft, towards bills and food (albiet at a reduced rate) I considered myself independent. Good egg that I am, I even helped out around the house free of charge. Under my naive view, me paying for the services rendered out of my own wage made me dependant on none but, well... me. Independent and self sufficient are synonomous, therefore naturally I also considered myself to fall under this weighty classification.

I can now safely say I was NOT independent, nor anywhere near. Although I paid towards the food (and they kindly included rent and bills within that payment), I was ignorant of the myriad of tasks it takes to run a household. Since truly living on my own, in just the first week, I have Shopped (food and non food) twice; done the laundry including bedding twice; cooked (even for others); and cleaned my apartment. This is a stark wake-up call.

The problem of living alone is when your friends call and say "come out, we're going for a drink" and you leave (abondoning the mountain of plates, pots, pans and cutlery that are rotting in your miniscule sink), that mountain is still there when you come back. When you then go to bed instead, shamelessly shirking your responsibilities, they are STILL there in the morning. The harsh reality is there is no-one there to do it for you.

This week has certainly broadened my horizons and to the two matriarchal figures I have lived with in my life, I apologise forthwith for every time I have ever taken you for granted.

Sayonara

Simon Birkmyre

Nisshin, Japan

Travels to Japan: Comparing Cultures

With only 11 days left in the country before spending nearly half a year in an alien environment, it is only natural that you start to think of all the things you are going to miss while there. The conclusion of this thought process is that you compare the home country and destination in terms of advantages and disadvantages. Having lived in the United Kingdom my whole life, it almost shames me to say there is not a lot going for it.

Start with the one thing Britannia is famous for; the weather. The established idea of summer and winter is that the former is warm and pleasant, and the latter is cold and not so pleasant. Did somebody forget to mention this to Blighty? At best the summer is mildly temperate and you only need four layers. The summer of 2010 missed the bus, and turned up in April 2011 instead.  Japan, on the other hand, is impressively consistent with their weather. The real difference is where our weather forecasts would track the approach of storms or rain clouds, theirs log the fall of cherry blossom. Oh and theirs are accurate.

Our own system of public transport is grossly inefficient. If the train or bus is not delayed by an indefinite amount of time due to a variety of trivial reasons, then they are not running at all due to industrial action or the above mentioned idiotic weather. I suppose we should be thankful we were not in a rush. Japan, meanwhile, has a system of public transport so proficient that they are world famous for it. The Shinkansen bullet train has a network that covers the majority of the countries populated areas at speeds of up to 300kmh. The UK has a system that just about covers the major cities and functions at two speeds; slow or stop. In its 47 year history the Shinkansen has never had a major accident and the average delay is 6 seconds. I think we need to take lessons, although we have progressed past steam – that is something to be proud of surely.

On to the economy and job market, as anyone who reads or watches the news will know Britain’s rate of unemployment is in a sorry state of affairs. The current unemployment rates from the Office of National Statistics tells us that 8.3% of the UK are currently unemployed, nearly double that of Japan at 5.08%. Whilst Britain is naively neglecting our own financial crisis and trying to support the floundering Eurozone economy in a futile gesture of camaraderie, Japan has sensibly distanced itself from Europe’s problems and in 2010 had a respectable GDP of $5.46 trillion compared with the UK’s $2.25 trillion.

Finally we move on to the people themselves. The Japanese are well known for their culture of politeness and courtesy, as well as their traditional veneration of family values and honour. Ashamedly so, the picture of Britain is as far from this admirable as could be. Instead we are known for ignorance of other peoples cultures and beliefs, our arrogance resulting from this ethnocentricity, and our drunken violence and social faux pas has become the basis for too many stereotypes. The image we convey to the outside world through the media does nothing to help us, as seen by July’s well broadcasted London Riots.

In conclusion, we find the United Kingdom lacking on most things, so much so that I am considering downgrading Great Britain to Good Britain. There is not a lot I will miss about my homeland, aside from the obvious friends and family. That said there is one thing that I am pre-emptively mourning the loss of; the food. Thick sliced white bread, a simple Sunday roast dinner, these I will miss. The people, the country, the culture ; not so much.

Simon Birkmyre