Firefly in Japan

Busier than a one legged man in an ass-kicking competition

Hey guys,

The last few weeks have probably been the busiest of my entire life. I barely have time to sleep let along update a blog right now. My advice to you is this :

1. Sign up for the Firefly newsletter so I can email you when there is an update.

2. Check out some of the other YourJapan blogs. There are some great ones :

http://saintly.your-japan.com/ (NEW!)

http://pachipro.your-japan.com/ (Always fascinating reading)

http://amanojack.your-japan.com/ (Slightly different subject matter, but still relevant to Japan...!)

Please check these out and be sure to leave a comment saying hello! If you have had any experience with Japan, think about signing up for a blog and telling the world about it.

So, whats it like to work at Disneyland? In Tokyo?

When I tell people that I used to work at Tokyo Disneyland, everyone turns into a comedian. With the same joke.

"Really? So which one were you? Goofy? HAAAAAAAAA!"

After my gracious smile fades, people are often curious about the details.

Behind the Tokyo Disney and Tokyo Sea parks, there is a big warehouse, with a large office housing a couple of hundred people. This was back in 2001, and I was outsourced there by the company I was working for at the time : SysTech. They sent me out for a 1 week contract to fix a big problem they were having with about 200 of their Windows 98 computers. Hear that? Windows 98. The happiest place on Earth runs the operating system from hell. Anyway, all of their Windows 98 machines suddenly started crashing 2 or 3 times a day, and they were at their wits end.

On Monday morning, I arrived at Maihama, Disney's train station. I walked through the groups of families, school-kids and couples, and found a small, obscure sign under the station. "Office, this way." it said. I followed that direction for a while, and eventually I came across a security station. I walked over to the security station, and nodded to the guard.

"Hello there. I'm here to fix an IT problem, I'm Firefly from SysTech." I said.

The security guard eyed me, and checked his list. "You're not on the list here." he said, flatly.

"Uh, can you call IT please? I have a meeting with IT in 30 minutes." I said.

He got on the phone, and presumably spoke to someone in IT. "Sorry Mr Firefly, Kenichi will come out in a moment to greet you. Please wait in front of the building. He gestured to a building inside the compound. I smiled and walked through the gate, into the Disneyland Office.

I looked around for something that would betray the office as the backend to Disneyland, the worlds most successful themepark franchise. I couldn't find anything - it looked like a standard office, with standard office workers running about. I couldn't help but being irrationally disappointed, like I was expecting Mickey Mouse to be bouncing around the carpark handing out stationary. "Waahahoo! Get to work! Heres a pen!"

Kenichi arrived after a couple of minutes, and tapped me on the shoulder. I introduced myself, and we swapped meishi (name cards).

"I must admit Kenichi-san, I was hoping to see a crazier Disney style office building. It's about as normal as I've seen." I said lightly as I continued to absorb my surroundings.

"Really? We have 15 minutes before this meeting starts. Let me show you something quickly." Kenichi said with a smile.

He walked me over to a smaller warehouse off to the left-hand side of the main office building, and we walked inside the opened shutter door entrance.

"Check this out," Kenichi said.

My eyes took a moment to adjust to the darkened lighting. I blinked twice, and in one foul sweep, years of precious childhood memories were destroyed. After years of bed-time stories, fairy tales and Disney cartoons during my childhood, before my eyes, stood Cinderella, dressed in a Cinderella dress. She was desperately sucking on an already expired cigarette, and slamming a bottle of coke. She had ragged hair, and no makeup on. She looked drained and stressed. I almost went into shock. Despite being a full grown adult, I somehow wasn't ready for the full impact of this scene.

I turned around again trying to erase the image from my mind. We were in a huge costume repository. There were around 3 industrial strength and size coat racks stacked on top of each other, and the coat racks extended deep into the warehouse. People of all sorts of shapes, sizes, genders and ages were coming up and requesting costumes. There were 'little people', presumably a member of the Seven Dwarfs walking off with Dwarf costumes. Acrobats were walking off with latex. The REAL Goofy costumes were hung up off to the side, but no-one was requesting one. Perhaps they had already fulfilled their Goofy quota. I stood for a few moments, mesmerised by the odd exchanges taking place.

I cast my eyes over to the right, and noticed a fully functional convenience story, right next to the costume place. You could buy all manner of food and drinks, exactly the same as a regular convenience store. This whole store seemed to be only for the benefit of the costumed staff members. Fascinating, I thought.

Kenichi pulled me away, and we went to the 9:30 meeting. It ended quickly, and I sat down at one of the crashing Windows 98 machines. I did some troubleshooting, found some possible causes, and began testing. I had a possible solution worked out before lunchtime involving a rare patch only available from Microsoft. Kenichi dropped by the office, and knocked on the door.

"Lets go to lunch!" he said.

"There are restaurants around here?" I asked, surprised.

"Yes and no. Come on," he said. We left together, and exited the main office building. We walked across the car park and came up against a huge wooden door.

"What is that?" I asked, peering up at the door.

"It's a huge, badly hidden secret door. It doesn't actuall open. But this one does!" Kenichi led me off to the right hand side, and we stepped through a tiny door that was hidden in the concrete. Crazy. Within a few minutes, we were walking through the park, looking very conspicuous in our suits. After a few minutes of strolling through the park, we were in the Prince of Arabia themed food courts, ordering expensive, bland Indian curry with nan. I felt mildly ridiculous paying 1,400 yen ($14), but I suddenly realised I was having an office lunch in Tokyo Disney, and immediately felt better about it. You don't get to have your office lunch in Disney very often.

I returned to the office, and resumed work. I installed some test patches, and the problem immediately stopped on one of the test PCs. I tested a few more PCs with the same patch, and once I was satisfied, I put the patch onto a 3.5" floppy disk (remember those?) and walked around to each computer applying the patch.

Now, when you interrupt most people and tell them you need them to get off their computer, so you can install a patch, a lot of people can get a bit irritated. They're busy, and in the middle of doing lots of important stuff. People tend to get a little upset or impatient, even though their PC is going up and down more frequently than a Shinjuku sex worker.

Disney shocked me. It wasn't like this at all. It was like they shot each and every one of these people with a happy gun on the employee initiation day. They were bright, bubbly, cheerful. "Oh dear! I just lost 2 hours of work to another one of those nasty crashes. Oh well, I'll do an even better job this time!" they would chirp. "Oh, you need to get on my computer? Sure! I'm writing an urgent document for the board meeting taking place in 30 minutes, but whatever you're doing is probably more important. Take your time! Would you like a coffee?"

Compared to Financial companies, where people start screaming expletives when they accidentally minimise the email they were typing.

After a few days, all the computers were patched up, and everything was working great. All the office workers were full of warm Disney style gratitude, and I went home feeling great.

I assume they upgraded from Windows 98 after this, by the way.

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Saga, Part 14 :

A short while later, we gathered at an all you can eat Western food buffet restaurant for my farewell party. Even Shane turned up, and quickly went to the bar to order a beer. The frequent action of raising the bottle and taking a swig gave him something to do, and minutely eased the awkwardness he exuded from every pore of his skin. Bill didn��t even come, saying he was busy. I guessed it would just be too uncomfortable for him to show up after illegally docking my pay 50,000 yen and then failing to pay my small amount of overtime. I didn��t miss him.

We sat down at a table, and started going back and forth to the buffet, scooping up Western food. It was a rare chance to stock up on plentiful, tasty, well cooked Western food, and we all took advantage of it. I registered on some level that this was my farewell party, and everyone else would pay for me. This somehow made the food taste even better, and I wolfed it down.

We all chatted, and laughed, and talked. Shane continued to drink his beer, gulp after gulp. We mostly ignored him, until he tapped his glass with his finger and cleared his throat. We all fell silent and looked to him.

His awkward vibe intensified as everyone��s attention focused on him. His face seemed to take a fuller shade of red as the blood rushed to his head.

��So err��.�� He began. We waited patiently.

��This is Firefly��s farewall party. It��s a shame he has to go, because he has done a lot of really great stuff for the team, but I��m sure he��s moving onto bigger and better things!�� Shane awkwardly quipped to a table full of silent people.

Shane coughed.

��Anyway Firefly, you��ve been a good guy. I wish we could have spent a bit more time with you and training you up, but that��s how things turned out, eh.�� Shane attempted a friendly smile, but generated a half scowl instead.

I stared back at him, suppressing a shrug.

��As a token of my uhh, appreciation, here is something I want you to have.�� He opened his jacket pocket, took a swig of his beer, and retrieved a long, thin envelope.

I regarded it with disinterested. I looked over at Moeka. Her eyes had lit up, and she was following the path of the envelope as it arced over to my extended hand. Shane pushed it into my hand, and then tapped it twice with his finger.

��That��s just something I wanted you to have. Hope you appreciate it.�� Shane��s beer ran out, leaving him with no action or routine to hide his nervousness. He immediately stood up, and walked to the bar.

Once I confirmed his back was turned, I looked at Moeka. She was grinning like crazy. I angled the envelope up, and cracked open the top. The unmistakable woody aroma of 5 crisp 10,000 yen notes hit me. My eyes involuntarily opened wide in shock. I looked at Moeka who was bouncing up and down in her seat with her hands clasped together. Very cute.

��Moeka. How did you do this?�� I asked.

��Secret dayo !�� She responded half in English, half in Japanese.

��You didn��t do anything weird, did you?�� I asked with half a smile on my face.

She clenched her fists in mock anger and irritation. ��Never!�� She said indignantly, but with the hint of a mischievous smile played across her features.

I grinned, and dropped the matter. I��d ask her later how she managed this minor miracle.

Shane came back with his Corona, sat down and resumed regular swigging. We resumed regular conversation, and were talking and drinking well into the night. Finally bill time came around. Everyone else chipped in, so I didn��t have to pay. Moeka went around to 7 people collecting money. Shane arced an eyebrow, but reached into his wallet and pulled out his share.

��Oh shit, I only have a credit card,�� one guy said, holding up his credit card in resignation.

��No problem!�� Said Moeka suddenly. She makes a lunge for the card and grabs it. She sticks out her chest and slides the card between her breasts, like shes processing his credit card transaction. She looked up at everyone else and smiled. Everyone stared back in shock, but I started laughing. Goddess.

Everyone walked outside, feeling fat and happy – except for Shane, who felt 53,000 yen lighter. Everyone went their separate directions, but as it turned out, Moeka and I were going home on the same train line. We walked together to the station.

��I have no idea how you managed to do that. Shane is one of the stingiest people I know.��

Moeka said nothing, but smiled coyly as we walked down the stairs into the station.

��What a great night.�� I said. ��Thanks a lot for everything.��

Moeka shook her head, as if to say ��it was nothing��.

We got on the train together, and laughed, and chatted and reminisced. I had mixed feelings about leaving Systech. I couldn��t stand Bill and Shane, but I couldn��t stand not seeing Moeka. I felt a knot in my stomach as we hugged goodbye. The hug lasted a split second longer than it should have, and we made eye contact for a moment. The train door alarm started ringing, signifying that the doors were closing. We quickly broke apart. I waved goodbye, and the train left. I walked up the stairs surrounded by 100 people, but I felt alone.

Spread the Word

Hey guys

Ever since we had to move domain, we've been getting only 5-10% of the hits we used to get.

I'm concerned that a lot of people who were following the saga and who were subscribed to the old RSS feed don't know the new http://firefly.your-japan.com address.

If you guys could let your friends know about the new URL, or if you have a website if you could put up a small article with the new firefly.your-japan.com link, that'd be super.

I'd hate to think I built up a big audience of readers who were suddenly unable to continue reading because the registry prematurely reset the domain, and they're mising hyphen in the new link!

Thanks for your support guys - more stuff coming soon.

Firefly

Saga, Part 13 : ��So you choose the 50,000 yen?�� She said, her eyes sparkling.

I was having lunch with the hot secretary. I guess it��s rude to call her that for a long time (although maybe she doesn��t think so). Her name is Moeka. Moeka was a goddess. Every time I was feeling down or upset, or shitty about ��the management��, she would know exactly the right thing to say to make me feel brand new, and ready to battle unlimited tirades of bullshit from Bill and Shane.

She actually had a whole bunch of ridiculous experiences with Bill and Shane that really have to be heard to be believed. I��ve been talking with her about writing these experiences down, and she��s excited about the idea. Look out for these over the coming months.

Anyway, I was telling her in detail about what happened with my 50,000 yen pay cut, and about how I was ripped off for overtime. She sat and listened to the entire story patiently and sympathetically, nodding her head and making appropriate pained expressions.

��I��m really sorry to hear that you��re leaving. We��ve been working together for so long now�ġ� She commented softly, brushing her hair out of her eyes.

I looked back at her, and bit my lip in regret. ��I feel the same way. It��s really fun to work with you, and really easy to talk with you,�� I said, looking into her eyes.

Her phone rang, and she answered it. She perked up, and said ��Hello!�� in English, with a big smile, and excused herself from the table. I idly wondered who was on the other end of the line. Boyfriend? It can��t be her husband. I vaguely remember her telling me she was separated. Hmmm, I mused, while watching her talk on the phone from a distance. She was smiling and obviously happy. Shame, I thought. ��Whats a shame? Grow a sac and get freaky.�� commanded devil Firefly.

Devil Firefly vanished in a puff of smoke as she returned to the table, and we resumed our conversation.

��So on your last paycheck, after working so hard for a year, and after doing all that unpaid overtime, you��re still going to be docked 50,000 yen?�� She asked.

I frowned. ��Well, I haven��t really thought about it, but I suppose that��s right. That is pretty shitty isn��t it.�� I said, suddenly irritated again.

She became thoughtful, as though she was cooking up an idea. ��You know�� SysTech still doesn��t have a whole bunch of insurance for it��s employees.�� She said in hushed tones.

��Oh yeah?�� I said, not really interested. I was thinking about what I could have bought with my 50,000 yen.

��No no�� they still don��t have insurance that the government requires them to have. They��re operating illegally, right now.�� She continued.

My interested spiked. ��Illegally��?�� I repeated.

��Right. So, say for instance, if someone were to�� anonymously call the Government, and mention this fact��. they��d be in pretty bad shape. Very bad, since they��ve been illegal for years.�� She said.

��Alright,�� I said, not really following her. ��So how does this help me?��

��Given the choice, would you rather cause serious problems for the company, or would you rather have 50,000 yen?�� She asked me seriously, staring into my eyes.

��That��s an odd choice. Of course, I don��t wish any harm on anyone. I wouldn��t want to cause other SysTech Employees to lose their jobs or something,�� I said deliberately.

��So you choose the 50,000 yen?�� She said, her eyes sparkling.

I laughed despite myself. ��Sure,�� I said with a big smile on my face. ��I��d choose the 50,000 yen.��

��Alright.�� Moeka leaned forward, locked eyes with me, and sipped her drink. ��I��ll get it for you.��

I laughed. ��Oh you��ll just get me 50,000 yen. And how will you do that?�� I asked.

��That��s a secret. But it involves the insurance,�� She said slyly.

��The insurance? The one that the government makes it mandatory to have?�� I asked.

��Exactly. Of course, you can��t really mention the insurance stuff to Shane or Bill, without it looking like blackmail.�� She said.

��Right�ġ� I said neutrally.

��But I could.�� She said with a wink.

��No, Moeka, come on you can��t do that. I don��t want anyone else to get involved. Especially not you.�� I protested weakly.

She waved her hands dismissively. ��Don��t worry about that.��

��What exactly are you going to do?�� I asked suspiciously.

��Just. Don��t. Worry.�� She grinned mischievously, as she slid her chair out and prepared to leave.

I couldn��t help but grin. Her mischievous conspiratorial manner was infectious. I stood up, and followed her to the cashier.

-------

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"I don't think you need a mobile phone." The man in the mobile phone shop said.

I'd been in Japan for 2 days now. I had more-or-less adjusted to my surroundings, although I was still stunned that I had actually made it to Japan. For 2 days, armed with my vocabulary of 10 words that allowed me to start conversations, but desperately unable to continue or finish them, I had awkwardly been exploring the area near my tiny hotel and it's surroundings. I was staying in an area far from any big city, so there were no McDonalds, Starbucks or familiar trappings of Western Civilisation - it was me, and the locals.

Full immersion in remote Tokyo was just fine with me. I came to Japan to experience Japan, I had no desire at all to hang out at Burger King. However, I did need to find a job. This meant submitting my resume to employers around Tokyo. This also meant I needed to be contactable. I realised I had to get a mobile phone. My head was tingling at the challenge of going to a big city and get a mobile phone.

I woke up early on the third day filled with determination and with butterflies in my stomach. My clock read 8:18am. The crickets chirped continuously outside my window. The hot, muggy Tokyo summer oozed in through the window. I stood on my bed and managed to get dressed - no small feat considering my hotel room was only slightly larger than the bed itself. I locked and carefully checked the door, and spun around. I held back a cry of joy. This is the most incredible moment of traveling. Standing outside your hotel room with $200, your hotel key in your pocket, and unlimited possibilities and adventures just waiting to be discovered.

I waved to Gen, the friendly old guy who ran the hotel, he smiled back. I walked out the door, and then paused. I turned around and walked back inside.

"Hey Gen, which way's the station?" I asked.

Gen held up an arm, and pointed. "Go under the bridge. Then over a bridge. Then turn right."

"Thanks Gen!" I walked about 50 meters, and became lost. I exercised my terrible Japanese, and harassed various pedestrians.

"Sumimasen, eki ha doko desu ka?" (Excuse me, where is the station?)

Finally I arrived at the station. I walked up to the ticket gate, and asked the train guy for advice.

"Sumimasen... um.... I'm looking for a big city, pretty close to here. Where should I go?" I asked him.

"Ettooo..... Wheshoudaigo?" He repeated with a confused look on his face.

I realised I had been speaking too quickly. I slowed right down.

"Big city. Close to here. BIGGGGGGG CITY!" I gestured by opening up my arms. "Close to here." I pointed to the ground.

He looked at me with dim understanding. "We know?"

"What? You know?" I repeated, confused.

"We know. Big City." He said in slow heavily accented English.

"Great, so can you tell me, "big city", please?" I asked politely.

"We know." He looked at me again.

"I don't understand."

He gave me a look filled with patience. He brought out a map from under his desk, and pointed to a city. It said "Ueno."

"Ohhh Ueno! I get it. Ok thank you. Which platform?"

"Platform Number 1." He said.

I thanked him, and went up to platform 1. I got onto the train, and cruised into Ueno.

Ueno is an old industrial city, filled with old buildings, old shops and odd smells. Not the classiest area of Tokyo, but an interesting place to spend some time or do some shopping.

I spilled out of the train, and took the first exit. I was surrounded by carts, stalls and old Japanese men selling all manner of fake goods and general crap. I waded through, and finally found a mobile phone shop. Excellent.

I walked inside, and the 3 Japanese people working in the shop saw me, and froze. I caught a glimpse of their faces, and I saw pure terror in their eyes. I spun around, expecting to see Godzilla towering over the mobile phone shop, but there was nothing there. I turned back, and they had composed themselves a little bit. Odd, I thought.

I began browsing around the shop, looking at all the different mobile phones, which were lightyears ahead of any Australian offering. I occasionally looked over at the 3 Japanese who had withdrawn to a corner of the shop. I wondered if someone was going to come over to help me out. I looked down again at the phones on the shelves. One phone in particular caught my eye. I picked it up, and examined it closely. It had a large, clear, colour screen, and it was a flip-open design. I flipped it open a few times. It felt good in my hands. I smiled. This is my phone. This is the phone I will use to get a job. My future employer will call me on this very phone.

Excited, I waved at the 3 Japanese. They looked back at me, with an odd mixture of horror and confusion, as if I had just sprouted a leg from my head and started jumping up and down screaming. Unsure of correct protocol, I waved again, and pointed at my phone. All three Japanese suddenly had begun some kind of discussion. It went for about 15 seconds while I stood there with my shiny new phone. Finally I cleared my throat. I wanted to buy this phone and start looking for work, lets get this show on the road.

One Japanese detached from the group, and walked over to me. He was a young guy, maybe 22 years old. He was thin and pretty tall, and he exuded awkwardness and worry.

I tried to re-assure him. "Maybe they thought I was holding up the shop?" I thought, which brought a smile to my face.

"It's ok! I just want to buy this phone." I smiled as re-assuringly as I could manage.

"Buy?" He repeated.

"Yes. I like this phone a lot. This phone, please." I said still smiling, as I offered him the phone for his confirmation.

He cautiously took the phone, and then looked at me. I was aware the other 2 Japanese were silent and focused on our interaction as well.

"Umm..... Why do you needo mobairu phone?" He asked, finally.

"Um, sorry? Why do I need a mobile phone? Are you kidding? I don't get it?" I laughed as good-naturedly as possible.

"Hmm.. I don't think you needo mobairu phone." He said with authority.

"What? Of course, I need this mobile phone." I said with some conviction. What the hell was this?

"No... what would you use mobairu phone?" He said in halting English.

"What do you mean? What would I use it for?? For calling. For receiving calls. Look mate, this is capitalism. You have phone. I have money. Now we swap. Here is my money." I withdrew $100 from my wallet, and showed him. He stepped back as though recoiling from my money.

"I don't think you need mobairu phone. You musto pay money ebery month. Expensive," He added, as though these were convincing arguments.

"Listen," I said, starting to get a bit frustrated. "I need this mobile phone. Here is my money. What do I need to sign? What do I need to do?"

"Sorry... I think it's difficult." He said, looking genuinely sorry.

"Whats difficult? This is simple. Phone. Money. DONE!" I said, emphasising the word "done".

"Very sorry. It's very difficult." He repeated.

I realised I wasn't getting anywhere. This was ridiculous.

"Are you going to sell me the phone, or not?" I made one final attempt to claim my favourite phone.

He shrugged his shoulders and smiled nervously. "I am very sorry." He repeated.

Flushed red with frustration, I turned on my heel, and walked out of the shop. I picked a direction and began walking to try to find a more accommodating mobile phone shop.

I would later realise that the paperwork and requirements for a foreigner to get on a mobile phone contract is much greater and more complicated than a regular Japanese person. They would need to have explained all of it in English, which would have been very difficult for them. So, these Japanese had a problem. One English speaking foreigner in their shop who was focused on buying a mobile. They had to get rid of me as quickly and as nicely as possible, so they had a meeting, found the reluctant hero who spoke the most English, and sent him over to discourage me from purchasing a phone. A few minutes later I left the shop in frustration, after realising they weren't going to sell me the phone.

I would later find out that Japanese people solve almost all of their problems through this style of non-confrontation. Thus, a complicated problem was avoided in the most elegant and confrontation-free manner - the Japanese way.

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"Never, ever touch the blade of a sword." I was instructed by the Japanese Grand Master. So, what did I do next?

Your-Japan is finally back up and running after sorting out some major problems with the domain. Thanks for your patience and all the great emails of support and concern. Now - straight back into the stories!!

I was on a trip to Kamakura with a whole bunch of friends, and I was pretty excited. I'd been to Kamakura several times already. Kamakura is a great place to take your friends who are new to Japan - it's close to Tokyo, and has all the fixings of a cultural destination - plenty of shrines and temples, traditional food and atmosphere, and a huge statue of a sitting Buddha.

However I'm of the personal belief that once you've seen one temple, you've seen them all (except for a few special places in Kyoto), and despite the fact that my jaw slammed into the ground the first time I saw the big Buddha statue, 5 viewings later, I was less moved. The thing that I was really looking forward to was the weapon shops.

Thats right, weapon shops.

For reasons best known to Japan, right in front of the big Buddha statue, there are a host of shops selling all manner of crazy weapons. From your basic knife, to the mafia style 'knuckle dusters', to swords, to the boomerang from Blade that has blades sticking out from every direction, to nunchakus, shuriken and a range of other weapons that have to be seen to be believed. Of course, my original reason for going to Japan was for Martial Arts, so I am the proverbial kid in a candy store at these weapons shops.

Finally, after walking through all manner of temples and shrines, we reached the street leading up to the big Buddha. I was bouncing up and down in excitement trying to figure out what exotic killing tool my budget would allow me to purchase.

I regarded my friends seriously, and told them that "Alright, now the big Buddha is the most famous cultural icon around this area, and all that stuff, but a lot of the REAL cultural experience of Kamakura is to be found in these small traditional shops." This would hopefully set them up to spend at least 40 minutes in these small shops trying to find this elusive cultural experience, during which time I would be flying from shop to shop checking out all of the weapons.

I parted from my friends and entered the first shop and looked around. It was a smaller shop, but with all the regular fittings, such as swords, knives, shuriken, etc. A few swords caught my eye at the back of the shop. Entranced by these distillations of pure swordsmanship, budo and culture, I walked right up to the glass, and peered in. This particular sword that had captured my attention was made completely of wood. There was no hilt on the blade - the sheath and handle were both made from light coloured wood. When the sword was fully in the sheath, it simply looked like a beautiful piece of curving wood, completely concealing the razor sharp blade hiding inside the smooth pine finish.

I stood in front of the case, mesmorised by this amazing sword. I almost jumped out of my skin when someone tapped me on the shoulder. I was in a martial art kind of mood, so I spun around ready to face my adversary. There was no-one there. I angled my eyes downward. A short, Japanese man with white hair and a white wispy beard grinned up at me.

"So! You like swords, huh?" He said in Japanese. It struck me that he looked like the little martial arts master from Tekken.

I recovered from the initial surprise of his approach, and began talking.

"Yeah!! I love swords. I came to Japan to do budo, so I love this kind of stuff."

The old Japanese man's bushy eyebrows raised. "You came to Japan for budo? What kind?"

"Well, similar to Aikido, but we use a lot of weapons, like swords." I said.

"I'm actually a 7th dan in Iaido." He casually mentioned.

"You're an Iaido 7th dan?" I repeated, impressed. Iaido is a style of Japanese martial arts that focuses solely on sword work. To become a 7th dan is a considerable achievement.

"Hey..." he leaned in, and whispered to me. "Have you held a real sword?" He emphasised the word real.

"Um, I've SEEN real swords, of course... and I have some practise swords at home... but I've never held a real sword." I said.

He perked up. "Wait a minute!!!" He said, and bounded through a door near the back of the shop.

This could be interesting, I thought to myself. My attention returned to the masterfully designed swords in the case. A couple of minutes later, he came back and tapped me on the shoulder again.

I turned around. He was holding a sheathed sword. And it was stunning. Everything on the sword was exactly as it should have been. The carefully polished sheath, the authentic looking hilt, the intertwining materials on the handle. I drew in a breath.

The old man looked at my face, clearly enjoying my reaction and the opportunity to show a sword to another enthusiast.

"Watch this!" the old man said. He walked over to the sales counter, and picked up a piece of paper. He returned.

Then he unsheathed the sword.

The blade made a quiet whispering sound as it was drawn from the sheath. A chill ran down my spine as the sword was finally free of its confinement. He held the blade at arms length, and picked up the piece of paper. He slowly pulled the piece of paper over the swords upturned blade. The paper met no resistance at all as the blade effortlessly sliced it in half. The sliced strip of paper broke off and floated down to the floor.

"Wow." I managed.

He grinned back. "Hey... would you like to hold it?" He asked.

"Uh, me? Hold that sword?" I said. "Is that alright?" I gulped.

"Sure!" he said, offered me the handle.

I gently closed my hands around the handle, and the old man let go. I was holding the sword by myself. My head cocked in confusion. It was like the sword was weightless. I suddenly realised that sword was balanced so perfectly, it felt like I was holding nothing. I moved it around in the air very slowly and deliberately. I was very aware that if I tripped, or turned too quickly, I could slice through an arm, or kill myself without too much effort. I suddenly felt dizzy. A raw feeling of power coursed throughout my body, eminating from the sword. I could kill, maim or beat anyone the FUCK down. My heartrate increased and I began to sweat slightly.

I angled the sword directly upwards, and examined the blade from hilt to top. There was a black mark about 3 quarters up the blade.

I leaned in to examine the black mark. It was a smooth, very shallow indent, the size and shape of a small marble. Instinctively, my left hand detached from the handle and rose up. I put my finger into the indent.

The old man coughed nervously. I suddenly realised what I was doing, and hastily retrieved my digit.

My mind flashed back to Togara-sensei, my martial arts teacher. "Never, ever, ever touch the blade of a sword." His thundering voice reverberated in my head. "There are all sorts of shit and grease on a human hand, and it will cause damage to the blade - you have to re-oil the whole damn thing."

"Oh shit, I'm so sorry." I said apologetically to the old man.

"Ah never mind." He said kindly. "I was due to re-oil it anyway."

"It's an amazing sword though. It's a real shame that theres a black mark on it. What happened to it?" I asked.

"Well, this sword is 400 years old. It's been handed down generation to generation. This sword has been in a few wars." He said sagely.

"It's been in wars?!" I asked shocked. I felt a flush of privilege to have held a piece of history, then a wave of stupidity to have touched the blade.

"Yes. The black mark was where it was hit by a gun pellet." He enunciated.

"Holy shit, thats amazing. I guess it's not for sale, then," I asked, as if my meager 6,000 yen budget could hope to claim such a priceless artifact.

The old man smiled gently, his face creasing. "I'm afraid this one isn't for sale." He said. "Now if you'll excuse me." He returned the sword to it's place in the back room, and walked over to greet some new customers.

I purchased some wooden practice swords, and went back to find my friends.

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Down time

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The tale of Firefly and the reverse culture shock

I had spent one full year living in Japan. I had battled with cultural shocks, I had battled my own pre-conceived ideas about life and culture. I had sat on a crowded train carriage, to look around and notice I was the only foreigner around. I had 1 year of ups and downs and sideways curves. 1 year of struggling with the language, and just plain struggling to fit in. 1 year of stress and problems at work caused by Bill and Shane. I wasn��t yet ready to leave Japan, but god was I ready to go back home for a holiday.

When I came to Japan, naturally, I was extremely open to the Japan experience. I was a big Australian sponge, ready and primed to extract meaning and experiences from everything around me. I had eaten lots of Japanese food, I had even studied a smidgeon of Japanese. I had made some Japanese friends in Australia in the weeks prior to my trip to Japan. I was locked and loaded for Japan. As such, when I landed, nothing really took me by surprise. I had no singular ��culture-shock��, that all the travel books like to talk about. I said ��wow, that��s interesting��, and ��hm, that��s a bit different�� more times than I could count (and I still do!), but nothing seriously hit me in the face, or took the wind out of me.

When I went into a shop in Japan for the first time, everyone looked at me, smiled, and almost shouted : "Irraishaimase!". I was a bit confused, and had no idea how to appropriately respond, so I simply nodded my head, smiled awkwardly and proceeded with my purchase. I later asked a Japanese person what "Irraishaimase" means. He said : "It is for when you go into a shop. The shop people are welcoming you. If they do not welcome you, it is very rude in Japanese culture, because you are the customer. You don't even need to respond, because you are the customer!" He explained.

Even after he told me that it was not necessary to respond, I still had a lot of trouble with this. Naturally, I was brought up in Australia to respond to people who talk to you. When you walk into a shop, and 3 people drop what they're doing, flash you a big smile, and say heartily "WELCOME TO OUR SHOP!", it's hard to ignore that. Once I tried to reply back. A staff member looked right at me, and said "Irrashaimase!", and I looked back, smiled, and said "Arigatou Gozaimasu!". She looked at me uncomfortably. I looked back. She slowly turned back to her work, obviously unsure of how best to respond. I realised this approach wasn't working either. All I was doing was transferring the awkwardness I was feeling back onto her.

Another time, I went into a shop with a guy who had been living in Japan for a couple of years. He walked in first, so a couple of staff looked at him, and said "Irrashaimase!" and he brushed past them, not even looking at their faces. This horrified me. Later that week I went into a shop with a Japanese friend, and of course, the same thing happened. I started to realise that not acknowledging these people is not a bad thing, it's just a natural part of the culture.

Slowly, but surely, my view on this was changed. I became used to walking into a shop, looking at a staff person, the staff person saying "Irraishaimase", and me either nodding, or not even acknowledging it. This became the normal routine for me : walk in, Irraishaimase, ignore, proceed with shopping.

One time, someone saw me walk into their shop. They DIDN'T say irraishaimase. Of course, I'm a foreigner, and I look like a foreigner, but I was used to my regular routine, and I felt upset that someone had messed with it. I stopped in my tracks, and stared at him. He stopped and looked back at me, and after a few seconds of awkward pause (for him, I knew I was in the right so I didn't feel awkward at all), he coughed nervously and said "uh.... irraishaimase." In this case I smiled back to defuse the tension, and proceeded with my shopping.

After a while, I realised that this is the culture, and I adapted. If the FOB Firefly ("fresh off the boat") saw the "one year living in Japan" Firefly, I can tell you he would be absolutely shocked at how I was treating shop staff. He'd shake me and say "What the hell is wrong with you? She just looked right at you, and welcomed you for coming into the shop! Say something!!". Of course, I would simply smile and pat him on the back, since his conversion into the non-reactive shopper would already be in the making.

Anyway, returning to the first paragraph, I had spent one year in Japan, and I was due to go back home to Australia at Christmas time. I was brimming with excitement. I would be able to see my friends, my family. I'd be able to go to a beautiful Australian beach. I would be able to sit down at a coffee shop with an English newspaper, breathe in the fresh air, and drink a cappuchino. I'd be able to buy some Vegemite! Eat a Tim-Tam!

I arranged the administrations side of my trip, and before I knew it, I was on the plane burning a path across the Pacific Ocean. I jumped at the chance to catch up on a couple of recent movies that was showing on the entertainment system, then I went to sleep.

I was nudged awake by a member of the Quantas staff. "Noodles or the eggs!". Groggily, I opted for the eggs. Both choices are incorrect actually, but the eggs are the lesser of 2 evils. A short while after consuming the packaged meal, the sun intensified within the cabin, and the captain came onto the intercom, and advised us that we've already commenced decent into Sydney, and we'll be landing at 6:35am. I bounced up and down in my seat.

Finally, the plane landed. I didn't even wait for the seatbelt sign to turn off, I jumped up from my seat, grabbed my bag from the overhead locker, and bounced to the front of the queue. Some of the cabin crew shot me a distasteful look, but immediately softened their expression upon seeing the excitement in my eyes. The hatchway opened and I bounded into the terminal. I was overcome with emotion. The air was clean and fresh. All of the signs were in English. People walked past me, speaking in English. I walked through duty free - all foreign products! I mean, all Australian products!!

I bounced along to immigration. The main sitting behind the desk took my passport, looked at me, and asked :

"Where have you been young man?"

"Tokyo, Japan!" I replied, excited to speak English.

He looked at the computer screen, and paused.

"Welcome home." He closed my passport, handed it back to me and smiled warmly.

I smiled back, grabbed my passport, and went through to baggage collection. I waited for a few minutes for my bag to appear from the conveyor belt, and walked out the exit. My parents were due to meet me, but a quick glance around confirmed that they weren't there. I stood in the airport, among the English din, surrounded by foreigners (I mean, Australians), and just smiled.

I suddenly realised my throat was dry. Mount Franklins water!! My favourite brand of bottled water. I looked left and right, and quickly located a convenience store. I walked over, and entered the shop. Behind the counter was an Indian guy, looking busy with his work. I walk into the shop, plant my feet down, and look at the Indian.

He looks up at me for a moment, and then returns to his work. I remain frozen in place, staring at him. He continues work for a few more seconds until his eyes flick up, and he sees that I am still there, staring at him.

I'm excited, but also very tired since I didn't sleep much on the flight, but on some level I dimly realise that I am waiting for him to say "Irraishaimase." I continue to stare.

He drops the papers he had in his hands, and looks over to me. He opens his mouth to speak. My eyebrows rise in anticipation.

"What the fuck are you looking at?" He says, in a thick Indian accent.

"I... er... what, the... what?" I stutter back.

"Are you going to buy something? Or do I need to call security!" He continued, enunciating the word security with a sharp poke of his finger. He leaned back, waiting for my response.

"Oh, right, yes, I'm sorry. Mount Franklins water please. I apologise." I shake my head to try to rattle out the fog, and hand him over some Australian money I had already converted. He looks at me like I crawled out of a drainpipe, hands me my chance, and doesn't even say "thank you".

I was stunned for 30 minutes after this interaction. For the first time in my life, I had experienced the elusive "reverse-culture shock".

Welcome home.

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