Culture Shock

Last Thursday I made the ten hour journey back to Australia for a two week visit. I've been here four days and let me tell you, it's f!@#$ing weird being back:

1. When I arrived at Melbourne airport, I went straight to the Japanese passport holders queue at Immigration. For a moment, I forgot I wasn't Japanese. It also took me a good couple of days to stop bowing my head at everyone. I only stopped because people kept looking at me like I had Tourette's.

2. I attended Roz and Kim's very beautiful wedding on Friday at Saint Mary's Star of the Sea in West Melbourne and later at the Savoy. As Roz and Kim made their exodus down the church aisle, the guests merrily snapping their way through rolls of film, a sudden queue of guests started gawking, not at the newly wedded couple, but at my little pink Sony Cybershot camera, with cries of "Oh, it's so small!" and "Get Kinki to take a picture with her mobile phone!" (it aint a mobile phone, people).

[Even my 18 month old nephew is infatuated with the damn thing - every time I turn it on, he strikes a pose then leaps for it in cross-eyed frenzy. God I love that kid...]

3. We went to the Melbourne Comedy Festival last night to see a so-called satire of Melbourne community and commercial radio and I understood about 2 jokes. Those 2 jokes were very funny. But everything else went right over my head. I have only been away from Australia for 18 months. Perhaps I'm really just very thick.

4. It struck me that Melbourne seems really dirty in comparison to Tokyo. In Tokyo you may be sharing breath with a thousand other commuters on the same carriage, but the trains themselves are immaculate. I took the infamous West Maribyrnong tram into Melbourne's CBD yesterday and about a quarter of the seats had some kind of knife slash; one seat was entirely ripped out. There was graffiti everywhere and weird hippy people were leering and smoking the place out with the smell of old sweat and dope. Japan has made me into one of those annoying, critical people who wrinkles their nose in disgust at the slightest aroma of feral.

5. But, oh, all the space. I stood in the lounge room of Matt and Penne's place in Carlton, which is the approximate size of our entire apartment, and just stood there. And stood there. For about five minutes, marvelling at the way my hands touched air as I twirled around. It was delightful. And when they took me across the road for a Caffe Latte that could melt your nostrils I could have married both of them. Our nearest cafe in Tokyo is a decent 10 minute walk away, and to date, no-one has done coffee in Japan that could rival a Carlton Cafe Latte.

Only four more days before Matt flies to Melbourne, where I'll join him next weekend (yay!). Good to see he's flying the 35 degrees banner while I'm away... Otsukare Matt-san!