The first time I flew United was in the early 1990’s, around about the time United planes used to lose parts of their fuselage mid-flight, like luggage hold doors and wing flaps. We used to joke that you could get to Australia from the Us without auto pilot – just follow the debris trail across the Pacific. But now, as then, all went smoothly and acceptably if you count hurricanes as acts of God. So we are here.

I’ve decided after about three hours, that New Orleans is my spiritual home. That three hours comprised 1 hour to get our (unlost, thankfully) luggage at the airport and drive into town to our hotel on Bourbon Street. Then get into the hotel and get out of the clothes we’ve been in for the last couple of days (1 hour) and get into the street and check the place out. So late afternoon/early evening there are numerous bands playing a wide variety of music in numerous bars and clubs they tend to go from mid afternoon to about 6.00pm then someone else takes over. The early shift comprise a lot of children of the sixties and seventies (Iike me) and grey ponytails are ubiquitous. Hence the spiritual home reference. I could retire and do that for the rest of my days no worries. Of course, that’s in another life in a parallel universe because other commitments tend to mitigate against this. But one can dream.

Wandering down Bourbon Street was an experience. We had been told that crime is rife here (we were told the same about Capetown) and there were plenty of layabouts making pretty pathetic attempts to get their scams going but they mostly left us alone. Even I could see that there were eminently more muggable people wandering the streets than us. I had left my glasses in the room as I only had two pockets (wallet and phone) and it was sunny so the sunglasses won. So even staring at a street menu like Mr Magoo trying to distinguish letters from numbers, didn’t attract unsavoury attention.

The souvenir shops here are insane. Our driver, coming in from the airport, told us there are pretty much no rules in this place. If you have to act a certain way elsewhere, reverse it here. So the souvenir shop had plastic models of a girl blowing a crocodile and the crocodile doing unmentionable things to her from behind. Someone I know is getting one of these. And I have only seen similar messages to the ones here on t-shirts in Korea but the artwork here is infinitely more ornate.

This place is a critical cultural observer’s (that’s what I call myself) paradise. So plenty more to come.

It’s Wednesday morning and the child bride and I have much to look forward to. Friday, September 13th is the 50th anniversary of our first (blind) date. It was a Friday the 13th back then also. We’ve always considered it our lucky day since, having twice in that 50 year interim, won meat tray raffles in pubs on a Friday the 13th. Put a circle round that date. I can’t remember which pubs or when however. This Friday the 13th has Hurricane Francine blocking our way as we all head towards Louisiana for what I anticipate to be a rather uncomfortable likely flight-cancelling juxtaposition. I suspect we’ll be pretty familiar with San Francisco airport by the time we get our connecting flight to New Orleans.
…..

Got that right. Our San Fran to New Orleans flight has just been cancelled and we haven’t even left Brisbane yet. Looks like a night in San Fran then a flight to Denver and hopefully a connection to New Orleans. We get there on the 12th instead of the 11th so will still make our date on the 13th. It’s times like this you realise the value in booking through an agent (not something I normally do) and lashing out occasionally to sit at the front of the plane. By the time we heard our flight to New Orleans had been cancelled we were minutes away from boarding – just enough time to ring the agent to get our hotel booking changed and our lift from the airport rearranged, not something I could have done myself. I’m assuming United will put us up in a hotel in San Fran although it’s been an hour since I ordered that red wine so the jury’s still out.

This airline also seems to leave the seatbelt sign on for an inordinate amount of time, even when it’s so calm it feels like we’re standing still. There maybe a reason for this – see previous paragraph – regarding giving the flight attendants hours of time for necessary gossip. Or it could be because Boeing planes have been rather inconveniently losing doors and wheels recently. This plane’s a 787 Dreamliner which leads nicely into this. Already the lights are off, the shades are down and people are pretending it’s night time. It’s the middle of the bloody afternoon and I’m going to chase that glass of red, seatbelt sign or no seatbelt sign.
…..

We’re now in a hotel in San Francisco (with flowers in our hair). Haven’t encountered any homeless or drug addicts (or both) or been mugged yet, but we’ve only been here a couple of hours most of which was spent wandering aimlessly round the deserted airport like the Walking Dead trying to find someone to talk to. Here was me thinking someone from United would meet us off the plane with a hotel voucher and new boarding passes. How naive. How old-school. Those passes and vouchers do exist because we eventually located them but not without a bit of Poirot and a very helpful United lady who I’m sure wasn’t expecting to be problem solving for idiot foreign tourists at that hour.

Very early start tomorrow. Our New Orleans flight via Denver is confirmed and will arrive hopefully, after the worst of the hurricane has passed through and hopefully leaving some of the bars intact and unflooded. For now we are in our hotel in south San Fran. Not quite Silicon Valley, which is a bit further down the road, but with pretensions – lots of shiny office buildings and no houses. Maybe that’s why the bar and restaurant in our hotel are permanently closed – the nerd community doesn’t drink.

This was going to be a prologue but we’ve sort of stumbled into the holiday proper, albeit in entirely the wrong location. Hopefully have something more interesting to write about in the coming days.

Well it’s time to say sayonara to Japan. This is the last day with one last look round Tokyo before being dropped off at the airport a full 10 hours before our flight. So it’s time for some final observations. As I’ve previously said, it’s too easy to make fun of a foreign culture, especially one that exhibits as many unique characteristics as Japan. But that’s for disrespectful philistines and I’m only a part-time philistine and that time isn’t now.

Notwithstanding this respect for the traditional culture, there are more recent cultural developments which can be observed in various theme bars especially those employing female students whose competitive nature and need for money to pay tuition fees will lead them down strange paths that can only  be described as cringeworthy hilarious. I’ll have to tell you what I’ve been told about because I can’t imagine anything quite like…. over a beer.

Stepping away from culture, there are many things that attract the attention of bemused foreigners. We all know about the toilets that mask “noises” and squirt water at various and sometimes pleasantly surprising angles and have a control panel like a jumbo jet in case you want to….oh God, this is too easy – use your imagination. On a similar theme I just encountered a bathroom sink with two nozzles and a slot. Hold your hand under one nozzle and it squirts soap, the other one squirts water (I didn’t inspect closely enough to establish how you regulate the water temperature) and the slot in the basin blasts air to dry your by now, extremely confused hands. The CB said the sinks in the girls’ enhanced convenience didn’t have a slot for hot air. There are so many avenues to go down after that last statement and all of them lead somewhere dangerous and nasty, so I’m leaving it there.

And did you know that the little wooden stick used to stir takeaway coffee is called a “muddler”. No, neither did I.

There were more Aussies on this cruise than previous ones we’ve done. Also a few kids – unusual on this cruise line. Intriguingly there was one person from China and one person from France. I hope they found each other. There were also many single American women of a certain age. Six of them were on our bus to the airport. One could assume (if one was looking for an angle) that having seen off their husbands, they were spending the proceeds of a lifetime of servitude on good times, baby! Or maybe they were leaving their relieved husbands at home so they could enjoy a few leisurely rounds of golf without being criticised for their complete absence of dress sense. Or maybe they were looking to snare a substitute or a temporary toy-boy. In both cases, they were absolutely on the wrong boat if you assume the crew and the entertainers are off-limits.

So we are sitting in the biz lounge at the airport – I have managed to retain some residual privileges (but what happened to that upgrade you owe me after London ’23, Qantas?) – throwing down a few champagnes – okay, it’s Spanish but acceptable – waiting for our flight and already the Azamara Journey is drifting into the mists of time. It’s actually drifting (no, I’m sure someone’s driving) back up the coast where the CB had her “Bacardi” moment or three a couple of weeks ago. Champagne is a much better fit.

We did the three most popular spots in Kyoto – a Buddhist shrine, a Shinto temple inclusive of the Golden Pavillion, a building coated in gold leaf (which wouldn’t last five minutes in a liberal, freedom loving, western democracy), and a walk through a bamboo grove big enough to scaffold Manhattan. We saw the same thing at all three places – the backs of people’s heads, or if you were lucky, a shapely arse (I don’t care) as yet more steps were climbed. It’s Easter so these places were packed with more people than usual, a few of whom were actually Japanese. And the CB and I got lost at the first stop. Went straight ahead instead of turning right and finished up in the dodgy part of Diagon Arrey (see what I did there with another ritelary leflence). After two back-tracks, we got back to the bus about 15 minutes late and did the walk of shame down the bus aisle while having garbage pelted at us. All subsequent walks were done at panic pace.

We did a short Shinkansen or bullet train ride out of Hiroshima. It’s a great way to be introduced to one of Japan’s most ubiquitous cultural attractions – tunnels. The good news is you go through them really fast. The bad news is the next one is only seconds away. And while on the subject of transport, occasionally at home we see these box shaped, pug-nosed Noddy cars. Here they seem to be a fashion statement, like flaired pants in the 1970’s. Every second car is a Pug. I never took any notice of who makes the ones sold in Australia but here it’s a case of the car companies saying “if you think that’s a ridiculous looking vehicle, hold my beer”. They’re as common as Lexuses (Lexii??) in Cambodia, another perplexing and unique (in my experience) national characteristic. (See Mekong Muster from a few years back).

When you spend a bit of time in Europe, cathedrals and castles tend to be at the forefront of the travel itinerary. Here in Japan it’s Shinto shrines and Buddhist temples and Buddhist shrines and Shinto temples. Certainly the Shinto establishments are everywhere because they have to be. It’s a religion that celebrates nature and they have around 8 million deities which means that not every ant gets to be a god. We are now officially shrined out.

The consistency of an agenda dominated by shrines has been offset by weather that reversed polarity once we started heading east along the southern coast. The Sea of Japan side gets flogged by Siberian overflow. The Pacific side is protected by the  mountainous interior except when the weather howls through the honeycomb of Shinkansen tunnels and reaches the other side. So we went from beanies, scarfs, gloves and bearskins in Kitakyushu to shorts and t-shirts in Takamatsu. There was one bloke, a hardy Kiwi, who wore shorts at the thoroughly weather exposed skywalk in Busan which was closed because of the wind and rain. I thought he was wearing jeans but it was his blue legs.

Here are a couple of observations about Japan. We’ve been to six places so far – Aomori, Akita, Niigata, Kanazawa, Sakaiminato and Kitakyushu. Knowing as I do, how the Japanese are obsessed with golf, imagine my surprise at having seen a grand total of zero golf courses so far. One driving range but none of the real thing. And while on the subject of manicured greenery, the gardens we have seen have been truly spectacular. The largest we saw was 11 hectares. The smallest was as big as a suburban dinner table. Most Aussies would concrete that over and stick a barbecue in the corner. The average Japanese would put a water feature, half a dozen bonsais, a concrete lantern and two decorative trees in that space. We had a great landscaper but I’m not sure he could manage fountains operated by gravity and I’m not sure I could afford it.

We just did the Busan fish market. We’ve done the same sort of things before in rural Vietnam but not on the scale of this thing. This is where the food looks back at you and you could either leave with dinner or a pet. For a vegan this must be like being stuck in Dante’s Nine Circles of Hell. Inviting an unknowing vegan to a traipse round this place would be the epitome of Dante’s last ring of treachery especially if the next step was barbecuing something they’d just given a name to.

The  various tours we do are designated strenuous, moderate or easy. I’m always bemused by the number of people who opt for a strenuous tour when they struggle to even get off the bus. In Kitakyushu we went into the Akiyoshido Limestone Cave. It was dark, wet and slippery. It was also the largest underground void I have ever been in and I’ve been in a few, mostly man-made, in my years as a mine geologist. You could fit several full-size European Gothic cathedrals in there. So I wondered how useful the stragglers would be when the orcs arrived. Something for the Balrog to put on his sandwiches I guess since we didn’t have a Gandalf to help us out of the Japanese version of Moria (I’m assuming you’ve all read Lord of the Rings or at least seen the movies).

On a similar theme, we did a boat ride in the extensive moat system round the Matsue castle near our stop in Sakaiminato. There are 17 bridges over the moat and 4 of them are only a couple of feet above the water while the rest are not much higher. So imagine 10 people per boat crawling into a rocking, tent like space about as high as a dining room table then sitting on the floor and arranging ten sets of legs. Then we had to find the space to lie flat when passing under the 4 lowest bridges. I was laying on the legs of the lady arranged next to me. Fortunately she was a good sport and besides, the CB was sitting next to me trying to stop her feet from going to sleep. I suspect we may have left a few people in those boats because getting out was as hard as getting in – collateral damage.

We’ve only been in Japan for five minutes and I’ve taken my shoes off and put them on again more often than I would in an average Queensland winter, not counting thongs (the foot variety). Having been here numerous times before, you’d think I knew what to expect. I guess I naively though there would be some dispensation for ignorant tourists, but not to be. So the heavy duty waterproof shoes of the first three stops have been replaced by slip on laceless sketches. They had to come off today when we stepped inside a long-dead samurai’s house in Kanazawa but at least I didn’t have to worry about negotiating a stiff back to do up the laces when we left. As a corollary to this, we booked a tour in Sakaiminato which involved a castle visit and a boat trip round the moats (more of this later) and I figured there’s two activities which should require shoes at all times. Not a chance.

I’m currently sitting on our balcony writing this while the CB washes her hair in preparation for dinner with the senior crew in a couple of hours. As frequent flyers with Azamara (this is our fifth) we’ll be hobnobbing with people who’ve done 30+ cruises with this outfit, l expect. To retain a shred of credibility regarding our cruising chops considering our relatively feeble accomplishments, we’ll just have to lie. I’ve travelled enough that I just might get away with it, like Basil Fawlty not mentioning the war.

There’s a lot of activity down below me on the wharf. There’s lights and speakers being set up and sound systems being checked. When we left Wismar in Germany a few cruises back we were serenaded by a very good Electric Light Orchestra tribute band and as I mentioned previously, we got the fireworks treatment in Akito. It looks like there’ll be a show on tonight. Either these people are pleased to see us go or a boat load of Kardashians are on the horizon and getting closer. “Love Me Do” is blasting out at the moment so maybe Ringo’s on his way.

Just watched the farewell show. About 30 dancers in traditional gear including a few who look like they were let out of kindergarten early plus about eight people rythmically waving some of the biggest most colourful flags I’ve ever seen. Waving them to exhaustion it seems as after a few songs they had to rest their jellied arms. Incidentally, if there were celebrities coming in it could have been James Hetfield and Lars Ulrich because the last song was Japanese Metallica – a voice that could turn a crowbar into iron filings and a thumping drum beat.

Again, we have been feted for being the first cruise ship of the season. I’d much sooner be third and have better weather.

When it’s raining really hard we have sayings like “it’s pissing down” or “it’s hammering down”. What do you say when it’s snowing heavily? “It’s FLOATING down!!!”? Whatever it is, it’s covering the acres of solar panels next door to the port and it’s stopped FLOATING down and the sun’s come out. No wind either so the wind monstrosities on a nearby hill are stationary. Could be worse (or better) I guess – they could be on fire as frequently happens to these useless piles of unrecyclable crap. Actually you’re lucky if you live next to a burning windmill because there’s no electricity (snow on the solar panels) but at least it’s warm.

We weren’t prepared for all of this snow. Mid-teens temperatures were forecast, not mid-tundra. Can’t be global warming. Must be climate change. Or it could be down to latitude and the time of year, said the climate denier who is willing to bet that no country will ever achieve net zero despite the “pledges” (gazillion dollar hilarity ensues). Notwithstanding, it is a nice change for us who have come out of an ultra-humid Queensland summer, especially when you can look at it through double glazing rather than stand in it wearing inadequate clothing.

Met the Skipper and his crew (I was going to call them Gilligans but as we have already struck a respectful chord, I didn’t) last night. The all-singing, all-dancing cruise director was on our last cruise (Africa Through the Bottom of a Glass). Had our photograph taken with the captain and no doubt they will try to sell the picture to us for an extortionate price. Maybe if he’d been Captain Jack Sparrow or Forrest Gump…

Afterwards the cabaret kicked in. The format and participants were similar to previous cruises – four singers, two male and two female and two dancers, one male and one female. The dancers “sang” with the singers but we knew they were lip syncing because they didn’t have those little microphone thingies which are strapped to your head if you are required to extravagantly wave your hands and arms around as you boogie round the stage. They could dance though. Even at my fittest sometime last century when I was playing rugby and working underground I would have struggled to fling around a lithe young lady, even with a run-up – dodgy shoulder, you see. So well-played them.

We just left our second stop – Akita – and they put on a fireworks display that wouldn’t have been out of place on New year’s Eve. Don’t know if they were happy that we visited or happy to see us go.

The child bride had a technicolour yawn the afternoon of the storm. First time I’ve seen (heard actually) her do that since our first date. Then it was bacardi and coke. This time it was white wine (probably) and a bucking bronco ship. I don’t think white wine will suffer the same fate as bacardi which has not passed her lips since that fateful night. I suspect there may have been some morning sickness spews a few decades ago also but no particular incident stands out like the very first and the very latest (notice how i didn’t say “last” – you never know). And I may have been at work.

Yesterday was our first full day of sightseeing in Japan if you don’t count getting from Haneda Airport to the good ship Azamara Journey three days ago. Trying to find something quirky about Japan is difficult. Sure, the culture’s quite different but we don’t want to be disrespectful. It’s also very clean and the people are friendly and polite (except the prick who was grinding his elbow into my back on a jam-packed train many years ago). The worst I could say about Aomori is that it appeared to be closed….. on a Thursday. It could have been that everyone was inside with all of the doors closed because it was ear-snappingly cold and occasionally snowed. The only snow angel and snow ball frolicking was being done by those from the tropics and sub tropics until the realisation that snow is cold and wet set in, as if we didn’t already know.

Despite the Walking Dead atmosphere of the town, the reception at the Port was brilliant. There were young ladies in traditional dress singing and dancing, blokes dressed up as … something and running after buses waving giant hands, a TV crew and someone in a giant apple suit. This is the apple capital of Japan so that stands to reason. We are their first cruise ship of the season so I guess they were pretty pleased to see us, if only for the gaijin dollars we injected into the local economy. Two coffees from us, worth about $18. Don’t spend it all at once.

Last night was French night at the fourth poshest restaurant on the ship – a perfectly reasonable cultural experience on an American ship in Japan. But we joined in and had the beef bourguignon and the coq au vin but drew the line at escargot and frog’s legs. Did all that when I was being paid to bow to others’ cultural and gastronomic proclivities. On my own dime I’ll eat what I want not what someone else puts in front for me. The most unusual thing that can be said about that was regarding a couple who turned up dressed for dinner. Him in his suit and her in a long frock. This isn’t the Queen Elizabeth but bloody good for them nonetheless. If you have any standards, adhere to them because there are increasing numbers of people out there who have none whatsoever.

I am now an expert (better informed actually) on numerous diseases I had never heard of prior to half an hour ago. The CB and I are having our morning coffee and three single women of a certain age sitting next to us have been loudly trying to outdo each other in describing their various ailments like the four Yorkshiremen of Monty Python fame. The strident alpha amongst them is starting to give me the shits so it’s time to relocate. That’s easier said than done at the moment because like the first day of our last cruise, we’re at sea all day and it’s pretty rough. A 6 to 9 foot swell doesn’t sound much for a cruise ship to contend with but it’s enough to roll you out of bed if you haven’t got something to hang onto. Fortunately I do. So we put the wobbly boots on and pinballed back to our cabin, sorry, state room. The captain just advised that at 1.00pm we hit a storm and the swell’s going to 12 to 15 feet (or more) and it’s 1C outside. I should have paid more attention to the safety briefing yesterday. Lifeboat 1 I think. Time to get lunch in (and try to keep it down) before the shit hits the fan.

Last night was a chance to reacquaint ourselves with our favourite bar – what used to be called the Looking Glass because it’s high and at the front with a panoramic view of bugger all for the next day or so and is now rather boringly called the Living Room. The band is the ubiquitous (similar bands are playing all over Asia) bunch of talented Phillipinos and one Phillipina and like all of their clones, they can play anything. They did requests and were asked for a Santana song by one dude, which they performed remarkably well and when they looked at me they got Hotel California which they also did very well including the guitar solo at the end. The guitarist came and had a chat with us when they finished and I offered to drum for them (their drummer’s sick apparently). I’d had a few red wines and never sat at a drum kit before but I think I got the gig. We’ll see tonight.

We are now in the midst of our first cruising storm after four previou ocean cruises and three river cruises (which don’t really count). The boat’s rocking and rolling in a veritable sea (funnily enough) of white caps. The outside decks are closed but I don’t think the pool and adjacent hot-tub would be getting much action today, storm or no storm. So the options are to sit in the room and write this or sit in the lunch restaurant with a glass of wine and write this. Decisions decisions. We just smashed through another big wave and were momentarily in a foam cloud. I think we’ll stay in the restaurant.

I’ve commented previously (see Africa Through the Bottom of a Glass) about how the CB and I are generally amongst the youngest and most mobile and therefore most stable on our pins, of this cruise line’s clientele. There’re a lot of people here in the restaurant now and if they try to relocate we could lose a few if they get anywhere near the ship’s rail. Paying extra for a veranda room is looking like a crap investment at this point.

Speaking of investments, a few things had to be attended to when we boarded the ship yesterday. When packing for these excursions, I’m most efficient when I do it an hour before leaving for the airport. I learnt this after numerous work trips over many years. Apart from the times when I’ve had to buy ties, belts, socks, pants (that was only once) etc I usually get it right. The longer I have to consider the necessities the greater the chance I’ll forget something. This time I forgot one of my medications so had to make arrangements for this with the onboard medical centre. Most expensive pills i’ve ever bought. Also I’d left it too late to book our shore excursions so had to do that after boarding. And get the internet sorted. These were all jobs for today but I had them all sorted within two hours of getting on the boat yesterday. Luckily I’m not a Labor politician otherwise those jobs would have taken a month and I’d be staring down the barrel of another stroke.

When you’re looking for things to write about you tend to notice oddities from the nuanced to the in-your-face, sticks out like dogs’ balls. Let’s enjoy ourselves and consider a few that became obvious including some before we even left New South Wales airspace.

When the Tokyo flight got underway, I plugged the tablet on which I am writing this into the power socket in the CB’s seat and was informed it would take 34 hours and 59 minutes to fully charge. It was half charged to start with. That’s Sydney/Tokyo/Sydney/Tokyo/Sydney and frankly, I don’t have that much available time. Oh yes, I had to plug it into her seat because my power outlet didn’t work. Hopefully, as this is an Airbus A330, everything else works and we won’t lose a door or a wheel as Boeing planes have tended to do recently.

Anyone who has travelled internationally even once will be aware that meals are served at the strangest of times. I’ve had lunch at 9.30am, a full dinner service at 2.00am and today we had lunch at 2.30pm. Now that’s not too bad you’d have to reckon and the food was okay (said no one ever while travelling in gorilla class). We were late leaving Sydney so the timing of lunch was impacted by their having to pump up the tyres or something so I guess they have an excuse. But the cutlery was made of wood. The peasants in Game of Thrones had more efficient eating implements than these. Imagine trying to saw through steak with the stick that was in your ice cream. The old anti-highjacking plastic ones were way better than these.

Here’s one that has zero nuance. We’re shuffling in an endless immigration queue trying to get through Haneda Airport and 4 out of 5 people including everyone under 40 is staring at their phones. Can’t these people wait until they clear the airport before checking their friggin’ Instagram. I guess being disconnected from the cyber world for 10 hours is too much for too many mush-brained sociozombies. I suspect I was better at interpersonal communication than these people even at the time I was having a stroke a year ago. Those of you with superior deductive powers will have concluded from this diatribe that the hotel bar closed just as we arrived. Not to worry. It’s free booze on Azamara and we’re boarding tomorrow. Arrrrgh!