April 21, 2004
Through the tunnel and out the other side

Gertrude Street was fast falling into the clutches of shadows as twilight seeped slowly through the laneways, pausing only at the suspicious gazes of men walking past one another. It seemed that everyone out tonight was alone, except for the young woman with wild yellow hair who had a little dog in tow.

I quickened my pace. The joy of the day's sunshine had faded quickly from this side of town, its warmth shortlived. At the door of Dante's, I paused; the door to the upstairs function room was locked. I sought refuge downstairs in the bar, where three men and a woman discussed the gay marriage laws in Canada as a woman on another table squealed a story about someone's "crown jewels".

There was something that I learned a long time ago. One will always see another in ways that are most convenient to them. It happened that I had a conflict with a good friend many years ago, and he pronounced resolutely that I was "very stubborn". Being the self-reflective sort, I puzzled and fretted over this for some time, because I counted the ability to listen and take heed of others as one of my few virtues. In the end, I realised that it was simply because I disagreed with his viewpoints and that I had stood my ground; hence, I was stubborn. But such is the way of the world where there are no definites and all is relative. Only in such a world could stories exist, because we each see a world of different colours, filtered through our individual perspectives, tainted by our own lives.

Under the intermittent Sunday afternoon sun, I was priviledged to finally meet the very lovely Chris. Much later, in the smokey drunken haze of the room, I caught up with CC and Shayne (congrats, you two!), and was introduced to the charming Visal and the very gracious Owen, both of "Sketches". A day of pleasant encounters ...

Walking in the park brings back memories. Lately I have learned how one deals with painful ones. In difficult places, you do not strive to remove all that has been, you watch for the pitfalls where old, useless tales can be senselessly twisted and warped into ugliness; then, you lay down fresh grass, you grow trees that will bloom in spring and shed in fall, you pave the path anew, and you move along.

Posted by sniffles at 10:19 PM | Comments (7)

April 16, 2004
Degraves Street

Melbourne, Australia.

A cloud slid away, revealing the full force of the southern sun, and all of a sudden I felt the heat on my back. The asphalt glinted silver, telling me I was technically home again. What it didn't know was that home is where the heart is, and my heart lies in many places and I have many homes.

This is a place where I once knew well — the hidden treasures of bookstores, cafes and laneways, the interesting and the mundane. Now, I find myself having to re-learn public transport system, noting that the MET tickets have gone up something shocking in price while the system remains just as inefficient. (Then again, I've just returned from Tokyo, where the trains and subways run more efficiently than clockwork.)

I find it odd that I seem to take less sugar in my coffee, or maybe I have always used one and a half teaspoons in Melbourne coffee? I don't remember. Suddenly the Aussie accent is so distinct, suddenly I had to relearn the local speech patterns and readjust my current tendency to say "excuse me" or "pardon" in French, or more recently, in Japanese (it's a useful word to know in Tokyo).

Melbourne is far more beautiful than I remembered it to be. Autumn has just begun, the trees in Fawkner park still clutch onto most of their greenery, slowly, reluctantly shedding their luxurious summer coats. There seem to be more people in the city streets than I remembered, I couldn't recall at which end of the street one of the cinemas I frequented was, one of my favourite bookstores has disappeared, Federation Square is now complete and doesn't look half as ugly as most people thought it would turn out to be when it was being built. There's so much happening here, there's much to do, much to see ...

But my heart lies in many places, and while Melbourne will always be home, I'm hoping not to stay too long. So ... do drop me a line if you happen to be here, I'd be happy to meet up for coffee and such.

Posted by sniffles at 09:55 PM | Comments (15)

April 12, 2004
Green tea alley

Tokyo, Japan.

I had green tea yoghurt for breakfast this morning — it's quite nice. The laundry is spinning around in the dryer, after which it will be time to pack up and say goodbye to Tokyo. See you soon from the southern hemisphere!

Posted by sniffles at 10:42 AM | Comments (5)

April 11, 2004
Scootin' round

Tokyo, Japan.

The funniest thing on Omote-sando (a road modelled after Champs-Elyées of Paris) is the McDonald's which has tables and chairs arranged in the Parisian fashion — two chairs to a table, all facing the street:

Posted by sniffles at 08:41 PM | Comments (1)

April 10, 2004
The apologetic menu

Tokyo, Japan.

Posted by sniffles at 09:14 AM | Comments (0)

April 09, 2004
For Adriaan

Posted by sniffles at 08:26 AM | Comments (4)

Hovering

Tokyo, Japan

Whirlwind but beautiful days in Tokyo which began with the Kizuna meeting, so hectic that I didn't even get a chance to tell you that after much toil and sweat, MACCAWS has finally released the first two documents of "the kit" — a whitepaper and a Web standards primer. The kit is something that we hope will grow into a useful collection of material for Web standards evangelists. I was somewhere 30,000 feet above ground at the time of the release; many many thanks to Tara and Becky, both of whom worked very hard to compile the kit with me, and to the MACCAWS team. Many thanks also to our reviewers for their endless enthusiasm, patience and generosity. The feedback so far has been extremely positive, I can't tell you how over-the-moon and relieved I am that we finally got it out there!

Geeky things aside, with each day here in this amazing city, I re-discover why I love Tokyo and why this place had left such an imprint on my mind on a previous trip two years ago when I was here for only four days. The madness of Shibuya, the strange serenity amongst old books in Kanda, the silent, stolen streets that wind into quiet hidden places are ways into other worlds. A thousand thanks to my gracious hosts Jim and Yuka for their generous hospitality and for being so good at making sure that I don't get too lost! I have had the opportunity to spend quality time with very lovely people in the past week and have run out of fingers and toes to count my blessings.

A few more precious days, then it'll the long flight south back to the bottom of the world ...

Posted by sniffles at 08:17 AM | Comments (3)

April 01, 2004
Teacup virtue

they took your life apart
and called your failures art
they were wrong though
they won't know 'til tomorrow

— "Tomorrow tomorrow", Elliott Smith.

Once outside, I wondered why I hadn't noticed that it had been raining. Even the rain seems silent here, as if it were too shy to intrude. I contemplated going back for an umbrella, and decided that there was probably no need. Rain and I know each other well; there is no need for pretense.

Days have been rolling by while I've been sorting my life into boxes — once again. Why is it that I seem to spend most of my life packing? When it's not actual packing, it's repacking or unpacking. I think I have even gotten to be more efficient at it. I keep a mental inventory. I sort, I pack, I categorise. Precious times spent with dear friends, all of you whom I am deeply grateful and thankful for. And tomorrow, it will be back on the road ... for a time. I will departing for Tokyo and remain there for two handfuls of days, then it will be the long road back home to the sunburnt country for a little while.

The rain was singing. Yesterday the city awakened to yellow poetry. Today, we shall sing of grey. Slowly, I walked on, fire and snow on my fingers.

Posted by sniffles at 12:14 PM | Comments (7)