Back in Disneyland

Descending down to Narita, I started crying for no reason at all. I just wanted to cry, and so I did. The sprawling mass of the airport gave me time to regain composure, well, whatever composure one could have after a week of salt-water showers and 5 days in the same shirt.

The customs officer showed me a picture with all the prohibited items on it and asked if I had anything to declare.

`No,` I answered.
`Really?`
`That`s right.`

After a thorough groping of my luggage he let me go and thanked me for my cooperation.

It`s funny, but everything has an unreal quality to it, like being high on an assortment of illicit substances. I have this weird feeling of not really being here, of not really being part of the tapestry of people and places I pass through. I love all the little details:

Toilet bowl design. There is a large pool of water in the bowl. Your poo slides gently into it, and floats. The result is that you don`t get splashed by the water, and that the bowl doesn`t get dirty.

Onigiri. $2 Seaweed rice wraps at every convenience store.

Lotteria. Like McDonald`s, but you can get a shrimp burger.

When I get on the train in Melbourne, I tend to glare at people with nothing other than contempt. Here, I can`t do that. If a person has shit for brains, then they are bound to be dressed in a manner that negates that. I`m just overcome with warm fuzzies for almost everybody.

I`ve spent the day, cruising through various train stations, walking through various malls. Using Japanese again feels great. I think all the study is starting to pay off.