Life at Sun

The Hokkaido Sun Guest House was right in my neighbourhood, situated between my apartment and closest supermarket. The fact I couldn't find it was therefore perturbing.  

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I become (temporarily) homeless

"What about tomorrow?" The three men in the blue uniforms of the Sekai moving company were crowded around a cupboard containing shoes. This is a standard feature right by the entrance of any Japanese apartment: the movers had not yet got further into my home.

"It's fine," I assured them in my limited Japanese. "You can pack everything."

"But... tomorrow..." One of the movers looked across from the cupboard and gaped in shock. "Aahh!" he pointed at my feet. His two colleagues crowded close. "She's wearing shoes."

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My head gets examined

Even with earplugs, the noise was loud.

Click. Whir. Tic tic tic. Klonk.

I stared up at the plastic contraption holding my head in place and thought: How does anyone have sex in here?

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The ballerina

"Are you here on holiday?"

The answer was bound to be 'yes'. I had fallen into conversation with the elderly lady sitting beside me as we had sought out the shuttle bus to transfer to the airport's domestic terminal. I was connecting from Tokyo to Sapporo, she was bound for Osaka. Judging from her accent, we had both just stepped off the London Heathrow flight. 

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Pearl Harbor

I took paltry few photographs at Pearl Harbor. This was because each time I viewed the scene through my phone's camera, I mentally captioned it: "Me at the site where 2,500 people met their end!"

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Today, I became annoyed by an article in 'The Guardian'. It was a piece discussing the consequences for the Nobel Laureate British biochemist, Sir Tim Hunt, after his disastrous speech at the World Conference of Science Journalists in Seoul last week.  

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