However, this computer is not mine. I am nevertheless surrounded by two glasses of what used to be orange juice, as well as one which still contains Oolong tea. On the table in front of my is my iPod, and not far from it, my camera. Within reach of my right arm is a magazine which appears to have some sort of exploding airplane on the back of it. I can also reach the lever which will allow me to put the fine (faux-?) leather chair in horizontal mode, granting me a few precious hours of sleep before I get up at six a.m. tomorrow, get out of the buiding, turn right, and pay 1500 yen to have a shower.
Update: My new place.This is what happens when you don't plan ahead. And I feel it is wholeheartedly excellent. Some of you may recall that I questioned how much punk rock it was to go to eight concerts in one day, and then pay an absolute shitload of cash to get on the fastest train currently available in Japan, and go home. This weekend, however, is slightly more punk rock.
Not that I generally live by those standards, but you know. Either way, I'm back in Nagoya, city of dreams, and I'm going to sleep here, in a Manga/internet/videogame/massage-chair/magazine/soft drink-place. The reason for this is that 150 000 people, some of them Japanese in origin, will converge on a place called Suzuka tomorrow to watch men waste way too much precious fossil fuel while essentially going around in a great big circle. It's F1. You might as well stop reaading right there.
First of all, thank you for struggling on a keeping reading, despite the above. Second of all, pictures will be forthcoming. Being here means I can't upload any (the computer's not WiFi-equipped, unlike my new camera. Zing!). Third, we called three capsule hotels, six regular ones, and pretty much the rest of Western Japan, with no luck in the finding-a-room game. So here we are. Tomo, Shouta, and I. Kenta is... somewhere else. Never mind. Fourth, we walked some 20km today. This is not something you generally want to spend a whole lot of your life doing, but I have to admit it was pretty satisfying when going back from the track - looking at the cars stuck in traffic which was actually moving backwards - there was a fine feeling of both moral superiority and also just... smugness, I guess would be the word for it. Fifth, I got up at 05:20 this morning. You can imagine how much fun that was.
Update: Central Japan on a Saturday night. Betcha Alonso felt right at home.So yeah, I'll try to get some sleep now, and update this thing tomorrow. Or maybe a day when I will actually be able to stand up straight.
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The Update follows!
Ok, so maybe it's not what passes for "tomorrow", but it shall have to do. In the grand scheme of things, it was a grand weekend. To celebrate it, I shall present you with a picture of the place we didn't stay at, and a place I always take far to many pictures of whenever I'm anywhere near Nagoya:
The JR Towers. Complete with vignetting goodness.But lets try to start this update in a somewhat chronologial order, shall we? I can inform you that sleeping in that chair you see in the first picture was definitely not bad. Whlie I don't give the legroom five stars, the fact that you could surf the intertron essentially while you were asleep is a major bonus. I may very well go back there.
Also, the bath/sauna-place the next morning was quite gorgeous. I shall leave it at that.
What about the race, I heard this trip was supposed to be about some race or another, yeah? Well, it was... loud. And it turned out almost exactly the way I'd been hoping for it to turn out, so that's basically two for two right there. Getting back home, however, was another matter entirely. Trying to leave a raceway through what amounts to something like three regular size doors along with 150 000 other people all trying to go through the same door at the same time can only amount to chaos, at least had this not been in Japan. Here, when the race ended, we all got up, and did the lemming-thing, walking off a cliff together.
"Vuxna män gör saker tillsammans"Suppose that about covers it. A fine way to spend a fine weekend with fine friends, walk far too much, have way too little to eat, and... enjoy the countryside? Not so much perhaps, given that the cars could be heard from the station, six kilometers away. But yeah.
