Not very long ago in a land far, far away...

Here are some random thoughts, observations and experiences in no particular order. I kept meaning to put all this into a more coherent whole and fill in the many gaps but life's too short so here is what I have...

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I mentioned to a local traveller how uniformly, exceptionally dire the roadside culinary experience is in Australia. With a sort of apologetic shrug he explained 'We're an ex-Britsh colony, what do you expect!?'. I haven't thought of it that way. Good point there mate!

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Fraser Island is Australia's second largest island. It also holds the distinction of being the world's largest sand island. Essentially a 150km long sandbar with no paved roads, it is a great place for a 4x4 off-road adventure! With my previous sand driving experience limited to a semi-controlled sideways slide through an unexpected patch of deep sand on a shortcut through Death Valley a few years back, this was going to be fun! The first test of driving skill came earlier than expected. I got stuck in deep sand before I even boarded the ferry to the island. And then immediately again after getting off. Clearly there was something I was doing wrong. Fortunately in both cases I regained traction with just a little rocking back and forth. After discovering that the secret to success it to never stop in deep sand the next few days were a breeze. There are essentially two kinds of roads on the island. And I'm using the word 'roads' very loosely here. First, there is the beach. Wider then the widest highway at low tide and unpassable in places at high tide, the eastern shores '75 Mile Beach', a national highway with an 85km/h speed limit, is a blast. With no lanes traffic is very much freeform with a mix of mindless beachgoers, drunk fisherman, small planes landing and taking off, deep stream run-offs and countless opportunities for playing chicken with oncoming traffic, providing hours of fun against a backdrop alternating between bald sand dunes and cliffs covered in lush vegetation all to the gentle rythm of the ocean surf. And then there are the inland tracks. Imagine riding a rodeo bull down a bobsled track, for hours at a time. I'll give you two tips. Bolt down anything you don't want to hit you on the head as you amaze yourself time and time again how much abuse the suspension of your vehicle can take. And don't attempt it on a full stomach...

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I stopped at a small noodle shop on the way from the airport and found that the water taps in the sink in the restroom only work after you've flushed the toilet. The only logical conclusion that I could draw from this was that the Japanese don't wash their hands before they eat. I was sure to remember this next time a friendly local offers to share her chopsticks with me. It also didn’t fit with the image of the Japanese that I had in my mind. I was therefore greatly relieved when upon sitting down at my table I was given a small plastic bag containing a wet towel to clean my hands. Ah, the Japanese efficiency, that’s better!

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It was with great disappointment that I found that the average, young, Japanese female in knee-high boots, a short skirt and a funny hat, in essence the fashion here, speaks little more English than my in-car navigation system. This, combined with my just having acquired, but not yet studied, a basic phrasebook, was really a fairly serious roadblock to meaningful communication, nevermind being in any way helpful in solving my immediate problems. Some three weeks into my trip as I passed a group of young girls at a stroll garden in Nikko I noticed that one of them had a leaf caught in her hair. I casually remarked on this to her and to my great surprise she replied in fluent English. Well, it turns out she and her friends were Chinese on a day-trip from Tokyo where they're studying Japanese. Another time I was sitting in a coffee bar in the entertainment district of Tokyo when I overheard a girl at the next table practicing her English. She and her sister were Korean. I'm not making this stuff up! In Japan, if she looks Asian but replies in English, she's probably a turist...

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A couple last minute itinerary changes and I ran out of cash in the somewhat out of the way town of Ise. I tried my cards in a half dozen ATMs, first in roadside stores, then in every bank I could find, with no luck. It was time for a new approach. I walked into the biggest of the bank buildings and in a loud voice asked if anyone here speaks English. The large open plan room fell silent and some twenty pairs of mostly female and clearly startled eyes looked up at me from above their desks. It then occurred to me that perhaps I raised my voice just a tad much and not wanting to add getting arrested for accidentally holding up a bank to my list of adventures, I stopped playing with my knife, slowly pulled my left hand out of the pant pocket and, now clearly unarmed, beamed them all back a goofy smile. I could see that they started breathing again and I even got a few faint smiles back. But no reply. However, it appeared that I was in fact understood as suddenly a burst of chatter ensued and a short hushed phone conversation later a young woman in a pin-stripe suit appeared out of a room in the back to deal with the rude barbarian in front. She spoke very good English but no, she did not know where there was an ATM that would allow me to withdraw cash from an overseas account but she would try and find out. Over the next twenty minutes I waited while the crisis management team at the bank scrambled to find a gaijin-friendly ATM. At one point there were four people shouting a visual description of my bank card into their phones. Eventually the woman came back carrying a humongous taped together sheet of paper that turned out to be a photocopied street level map of the central part of town. Not only did the map show every building and traffic light, it left enough space for you to draw in the rooms and doors. She apologized for the wait and explained that she does not know for sure but they think that maybe a machine at another bank would work to which she marked directions on this here map. I was doubtful but thanked her profusely for her efforts. As I left she bowed and wished me good luck. The deeply concerned expression on her face told me she thought I would need every bit of it. Because of the scale of the map, streets that looked like major thoroughfares were barely wide enough for two cars to pass and despite being able to visually locate the bank building from a few blocks away it took me a while to navigate the narrow and mostly one way streets to the right building. The machine inside didn't accept my cards. By now over two hours have passed since I started my search and I was getting hungry. I went back to my car and with great sadness carefully unwrapped a perfectly crisp ten thousand yen note, nary a crease on it, that I was saving as a souvenir and went to lunch...

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After observing me for a few minutes a suited Japanese gentlemen seemed somewhat perplexed that I'm photographing the girls instead of the exquisite cars and bikes on display at one of the world's premier motor shows. I explained that we have lots of Japanese cars and bikes in America, but very few cute Japanese girls. His big smile told me that now he understood perfectly!