Sketchy Impressions

Journey to the Other Emerald City…aka Melbourne!

2014-11-21T09:24:00.002+09:00

Having lived in Adelaide, South Australia just about all of my life, the anticipation of heading over the border into Victoria and on to Melbourne was always an exciting prospect. Long before the days of cheap flights, the most popular ways to get there was either a nine-hour road trip or by boarding the much loved ‘Overland’ railway. This was definitely a much slower, but infinitely more enjoyable way to make the journey, as there was always something special about traveling in the cool of the night and then lifting the blind in the morning to allow the sun to stream into your sleeper compartment (if you were lucky enough to have one), while the train leisurely rolled into Spencer Street Station. Sadly, those regular overnight runs to Melbourne are no more, having been replaced by a twice weekly day trip, which although still popular, seem somewhat at odds with the fast paced, discounted price of modern air travel. The term ‘air-bus’ probably best describes the convenience of such flights; arriving and departing with constant regularity and with a casualness that belies the achievement of just getting one of those big metal birds into the sky! What is also lost these days is the sense of ‘the journey’ that encapsulates experiences that are often missed when traveling ‘over’ rather than ‘through’ the landscape.

So it was with memories of our many enjoyable road trips to Melbourne that Jules and I decided to embark on yet another sojourn across the border. As we had done so many times before, we would drive south-east through the scenic Coonawarra wine region, through sheep and logging fields near Casterton, skirt the Grampian Mountains and wind our way through the gold fields of Victoria before hitting the western suburbs of Melbourne, that seem to begin somewhere around Bacchus Marsh these days. Reminiscent of the ‘Wizard of Oz’, we had followed the yellow brick road and finally arrived in the Emerald City!

Melbourne these days is a very different place than when I first visited the Victorian capital in the late 70’s. It was winter or possibly early spring (it is often hard to tell the difference) and my first impression was of a dull, monochromatic cityscape not unlike the visual depiction by John Brack in his famous painting ‘Collins Street, 5.00pm’. Sure, there was a vibrant art and music scene starting to emerge, but for all intents and purposes, such indulgent, anti-establishment activities remained very much under the surface, overshadowed by the long-term legacy of the conservative Henry Bolte era (Victoria’s longest serving Liberal Party Premier). However, what was particularly apparent, in comparison to Adelaide then and now, was the sheer size of Melbourne. This was truly a ‘big city’, evident by the physical scale of its buildings, the griminess of its streets, the wealth of its businesses and the smell of ambition from a multi-cultural working class eager to make its mark in this ever expanding metropolis. It seemed at the time that there would be no stopping Melbourne and indeed that has proven to be the case.

Over the years both its population and the formidable vision for the city has continued to grow; expanding upon what was already there and happily taking from the other states, the things that weren’t. There are still plenty of people in Adelaide smarting over the loss of the Australian Grand Prix, while over the years we have also reluctantly handed over the mantle of ‘Australia’s Arts Capital’. Melbourne’s skyline has changed too, with plenty of seriously high apartment buildings surrounding the Yarra River and the once industrial Docklands area, resulting in a sizeable inner city population that continues to add vibrancy to the city well beyond its business hours. Likewise, the building of Federation Square with its series of awkward angled buildings signaled that Melbourne wasn’t just a haven for sport (although all facets are amply catered for), but also celebrated creativity in all its forms. While full acceptance of this inner city cobblestone square took some time, it is now recognized as a vital city landmark catering for all manner of outdoor public events and remains a popular meeting place for all Melbournians.

While some cities have in recent times decided to decommission their tram systems, thankfully Melbourne had the good sense to retain its wonderful network. Jules and I once again enjoyed such trips this time around, as we were transported quickly and efficiently to the attractions of the near suburbs. Our only lament has been the demise of the old tram conductors who used to rattle off directions to just about anywhere in the city with friendly banter, while always keeping the fare dodger honest. Nonetheless, the tram service remains one of the delights of Melbourne and seemingly arrives with next to no time to wait.

While this particular trip to Melbourne included neither a visit to a sports event or a theatrical show, as is often the case, it did incorporate several of our other indulgences. For me it’s the many galleries and museums while for Jules there is the great selection of shopping. Of course one of the great joys of traveling to Melbourne remains our common love of restaurants and bars, which are always plentiful and ever changing. It has certainly come a long way from the days of basic pub food and the ‘6.00pm swill’! The multi-cultural nature of the city and the discerning taste of the public ensure that quality international cuisine can be found down every street and also in some of the most tucked away places.

While Melbournians appear to quite blasé about their city, they can feel rightfully proud of what it has become. Many may be too young to remember the way it was or simply hadn’t noticed its gradual transformation from grey to colour, as it evolved into one of Australia’s great destinations. Maybe we have noticed it more than most, as Melbourne still remains our most visited city. Yet for us it has always been the anticipation of the journey as much as the destination. We have always looked forward to our jaunts to Melbourne and they have never disappointed. With this thought in mind we boarded our ‘air bus’ and within 45 minutes we were again back in Adelaide… there really is no place like home!

16 Things to Love About Japan!

2014-07-09T17:44:00.000+09:00

Having spent the last four years living in Osaka Japan, the time has now come for Jules and I to leave and return back to our home in Australia. We will no doubt miss many of the friends we have met while here, but we will certainly take away with us some truly special memories of times spent traveling throughout Japan. So in thinking about what I might write for my final blog from Japan, I thought it best to simply reflect upon the things we loved and will miss, so in no particular order here they are…

1. Honesty and Trust:
From our experience here, we have always found the Japanese to be very honest and trustworthy. Jules and I have a running joke about how long something might last before it was stolen or vandalized if it was placed in similar circumstances in Australia. Over the years we have heard many amazing stories regarding honest acts by the general public when items have been lost and returned. Indeed in a world where you are constantly having to watch over your shoulder in order to avoid becoming a victim of crime, it has been greatly reassuring to know that for the most part, the Japanese are very honest and considerate people.

2. Service:
The Japanese really know how to provide good service in shops and restaurants. They understand that service means putting the customer first and going to extraordinary lengths to ensure that you feel very special, even if you don’t speak the language. In looking back we can recount numerous examples of remarkable service and we often wonder what the Japanese make of the poor service often provided when traveling in other parts of the world.

3. The Hundred Yen Shop and Konan:
Throughout Japan there are thousands of 100 yen shops that sell a huge range of goods for the equivalent of $1 in Australia. We wished we had known about these stores when we first arrived in Japan as you can easily fit out your apartment with all the implements you need, not to mention the thousands of other problem solving devices. Another one of my favorite haunts has been ‘Konan’ who specialize primarily in hardware but also provide an extensive range of other goods, covering everything from clothing to pet supplies. Jules and I have spent many hours in both of these stores and we rarely left without purchasing something.

4. Toilets:
As Jules knows, I have always argued that it is a basic human right to have access to a toilet in any public area. However, this is something that is often ignored by many countries or more often than not, access is only provided at a price. Thankfully this is not the case in Japan, where free public toilets can always be easily found and are in most cases generally clean. Another plus in more recent times is that the old traditional ‘squat’ toilets continue to be upgraded to western style toilets in line with most other countries, which is a relief in more ways than one!

5. The Changing Seasons:
It has been wonderful living in a country that has distinct seasons. Each time of the year brought with it a unique quality, but spring, with its outburst of blossom and autumn, with the glorious colours of the falling leaves remained our favorite. We also loved the way the Japanese of all ages celebrate and appreciate the changes in nature as they occurred around them. This would often mean going to great lengths to visit locations that showed off a particular season at its best and of course photographing it, just as they had done the previous year and the year before that.

6. Karaoke:
Before we came to Japan, the last thing we wanted to do was to spend an evening in a karaoke bar. At this point some of our family members might rightly claim that we were not blessed with great singing voices and they are absolutely right! However, what we learnt in Japan was that heading to a karaoke room was not just about singing, it was more about letting go of your inhibitions in the company of good friends. In an atmosphere where no one is critical of anyone’s singing, it is your effort that is celebrated. With karaoke rooms on just about every downtown street corner, it was not surprising that we would inevitably find ourselves there, but what surprised us was that we grew to love it!

7. Clean Streets:

While some of the modern Japanese streets can at times be a bit ugly due to their age or the haphazard way they have evolved, they are always clean. There is little in the way of litter despite there being very few rubbish bins. It seems that people just take their own rubbish home with them. There is also very little graffiti to be seen and people are generally very respectful of their public spaces in whatever form they take.

8. Onigiri, Okonomiyaki and other Japanese Foods:
Before we arrived in Japan, Jules and I were not really regular consumers of Japanese food, however since being here we have come to enjoy it more and more. We have always enjoyed Sushi and Sashimi, but we have also taken a particular liking to onigiri which is a rice triangle with seafood or other filling that is wrapped in a seaweed square. These are available for around 120 yen from any convenience store and if you can figure out the tricky instructions for getting them out of the wrapper, they are delicious. There are of course other favourites including the local specialty of Okonomiyaki, which is not quite as healthy but just as satisfying.

9. Bars and Restaurants:
Over the years we have seen our fair share of bars and restaurants in the Kansai region, but I would suggest that we probably would have tried less that 1% of what is actually there. The seemingly unlimited amount of establishments is simply overwhelming, but it certainly has been great fun exploring them. We can honestly say that we never had a bad meal in Japan and every bar was always different from the other. They ranged from small stand up bars to sophisticated nightspots that often overlooked the impressive lights of the city.

10. Warm Hand Towels:
It is always nice whenever entering a bar or restaurant to be presented with a warm hand towel or at the very least a wrapped wet tissue. This allows you to freshen yourself up before tucking into your meal or nibbles. It is a sensible hygienic move aimed at preventing the spread of germs, but such a simple action is also a nice welcoming gesture that we have always appreciated.

11. The Railway System:
If there was any country best suited to operate an efficient railway system it is the Japanese. Despite there being millions of commuters each day, the railway always runs efficiently and reliably. While many of the local trains appear to be quite old fashioned, they are always spotlessly clean and can be relied upon to get you to an extensive range of destinations on time. Of course the world recognizes the transportation marvel that is the Shinkansen that can whisk you all around the country at over 200kms an hour, but the local trains are just as impressive and a whole lot cheaper. Often running at around 5-10 minute intervals, for us the train is the only way to get around and not having a car to worry about over the last 4 years has been a blessing.

12. Everything Running on Time:

There is something reassuring about any organization that sticks to its specified time schedule. Again the Japanese are wonderfully punctual about such things. When a bus or train is scheduled to arrive at 8.37am it will indeed arrive at 8.37am not a minute earlier or a minute later. Likewise if a tradesman says he will be coming to your home between 4.00pm-5.00pm on a specific day you can bet your life that he will be there at that time. With everyone simply sticking to the promises they make with regard to time, it makes life so much easier and surprisingly less stressful.

13. The Cost of Living:

A few years ago the most common complaint about visiting Japan was the price of just about everything, although I suspect that this was more due to the crippling conversion rate for most currencies against the highly buoyant Japanese yen. As a result several of the major cities in Japan were listed as the most expensive in the world, however with the economic downturn and following the sobering impact of the 2011 tsunami disaster, this all changed. The yen has dropped dramatically over recent years and these days the cost of living in Japan is very comparable, if not less expensive than other countries, particularly with that of Australia, which we now find far more expensive.

14. The Mix of History and Modernity:
Japan is a complex society (to say the least) and what is fascinating is how it somehow manages to preserve its cultural traditions while forging ahead with an enthusiastic eye to the future. You will see some of the latest technology and some of the most innovative architecture and fashion, yet it all remains somehow connected to its historical past. It is not uncommon to see a modern office building or department store placed alongside a traditional Buddhist temple. Nor is it unusual to see a young lady wearing a kimono while standing on the train next to another wearing the latest in ultra modern street wear. Both the traditional and modern world works hand in hand in Japan, with each adding to the fabric of its society. What we particularly liked was that this notion appeared to be embraced by both young and old, with colourful cultural festivals, conventions and events celebrated on a weekly basis.

15. The Young and the Old:
Having taught a good many Japanese students over the last few years, there are certain qualities I will definitely miss about them and the youth culture here generally. For the most part, they possess an innocence and happy exuberance that comes from living in a society that allows young people to enjoy the full years of their youth. With drinking, driving a car and voting held off until around 21 years, they seem to be less in a rush to join the adult world with all its complications. At the other end of the scale, the aging population appears to enjoy respect and a place within society that should be envied and indeed emulated by other countries. It is not unusual to see a 75 year old serving at a supermarket checkout or working as a security guard. Their active contribution to many aspects of Japanese society appears to be valued, which in turn provides personal dignity, reduces age discrimination and no doubt provides a contributing factor to the well publicised longevity of its population.

16. Love of Jazz:
It is wonderful living in a country that loves its jazz music so much. Not only are there numerous festivals to attend throughout the year, there are countless nightclubs where you can appreciate all forms of jazz. If that is not enough, just about every café and restaurant seems to play jazz, so my favorite form of music is never too far away. There are also so many stores selling jazz music in both CD and classic vinyl form. Many of these recordings are quite unique to Japan with many live recordings by some of the greatest jazz artists who have visited this music loving country over the years. It was within this environment of jazz appreciation that I was encouraged to learn to play the trumpet and I will always be grateful for that.

There is no doubt that in the months and years ahead, Jules and I will continue to reminisce over the many experiences we had in Japan. It will remain a very special place for us. Yet, there is a sense that we only really began to scratch the surface of this unique country during the four years we spent there. We feel blessed that we were able to experience some of it and would certainly recommend a visit. So it is with some sadness that we say sayonara, but with the knowledge that we leave some great friends behind and that a return visit would always be welcomed.

A Museum in Harmony with Nature

2014-05-25T08:23:00.005+09:00

In recent times Japanese architects have increasingly gained a reputation world wide for designing some of the most interesting domestic and public spaces. The best of these designs reflect much about their culture and tradition, which is often exemplified best through a beautiful sense of understated function and simplicity. If you combine this minimalist approach with the use of the latest in modern building materials, the result is often quite spectacular. Jules and I found this to be very much the case when we visited one of the most beautiful museums in the world that sits high in the Shigaraki mountains overlooking Lake Biwa and not too far away from Kyoto.

The Miho Museum was opened in 1997 and was designed by renowned architect I.M.Pei, who’s most notable works include the glass pyramid of the Louvre in Paris and the east wing of the National Portrait Museum in Washington DC, both of which we have had the privilege of visiting. So it was only fitting that we sought out this amazing building too, although it wouldn’t be easy with the most convenient way to travel to it’s remote location being by car. So on a beautiful spring day, in the company of our licenced friends, we winded our way through a scenic mountain landscape filled with lime green spring foliage, to seek out this architectural icon.

After spotting the turn-off we arrived to find a well designed although somewhat understated building, however we quickly realised that this was not the actual museum at all, but rather a tastefully constructed ticket office. The actual museum remained hidden behind the hills and would require us to take a gentle uphill walk before the building would make its impressive reveal. The picturesque walk involved passing through a huge metal-lined tunnel carved into the mountain and exiting onto a cable bridge spanning the valley below. This combination would surely form one of the most impressive approaches to a gallery you are ever likely to see.

When the view of the museum unfolds, images of a traditional temple or teahouse come to mind, with the building settling nicely into the landscape much as they have done here for centuries. Although modernist in essence, the architect has shown respect to long held cultural traditions by creating a structure that is in total harmony with its natural environment. Upon entering we are welcomed into by a light filled interior that is reminiscent of the Louvre foyer, particularly with it’s use of warm coloured limestone walls. This, combined with the spectacular outlook, created an instant sense of wonderment that had people sitting down to simply admire this unique space. Clearly no expense had been spared in this building (reported to cost over 215 million dollars), not to mention the site itself which saw 100,000 truck loads of soil removed then put back in order to meet national park regulations.

Amazingly all of this was privately funded by Koyama Mihoko, heiress to a textiles fortune and one of the richest women in Japan, who’s dream it was to house a priceless collection of Egyptian, Roman and Asian cultural artifacts that were collected from throughout the world following one clear aquisition policy…’beauty at any cost’! However in the end, it is I.M. Pei’s building that remains the real star here. It is a perfect example of how thoughtful architecture can remain modern and functional, while still remaining in harmony with nature. This is something that appears to be rarely achieved these days, but with the Miho Museum they certainly got it right!

courtesy of the Miho Museum

Art Right Under Your Feet

2014-05-11T09:05:00.004+09:00

This is a blog article that Jules has been ribbing me about for quite a while, but it has to be said that Japan simply has the best manhole covers in the world! Now, I know that might sound a bit ‘nerdy’ to Jules and to others, but as a Visual Arts teacher you come to appreciate all sorts of interesting forms of street art, in whatever form it may take. For such normally drab and utilitarian objects, here in Japan they are always beautifully creative and can be viewed no matter where you find yourself within the country.

Often as we walk the streets, I will take the time to stop and photograph some of the more interesting designs. After all, there are said to be over 6000 different images throughout the country that include a wide range of popular motifs based upon the Japanese love for landscapes, nature, local landmarks and festivals. The designs themselves vary considerably depending upon the prefecture in which they are found, but they are always highly intricate and stylized designs. Quite often the covers are painted in detailed colours, but they are equally impressive as relief images in their raw metallic state.

Apparently all this attention to manhole covers came about in the 1980’s when the national construction ministry decided to hand over responsibility to local municipalities for what was seen as an insignificant form of city infrastructure. This somehow sparked the competitive nature of rival towns, encouraging them to create the most distinctive design to represent their area. What ensued was a series of contests, which encouraged communities to develop more and more creative images. Today these humble metal manhole covers have attracted international attention, particularly from those who are referred to as ‘Drainspotters’, who often trek across the country to seek them out and of course photograph them. Indeed if you search Google you will find an increasing number of sites that pay tribute to the Japanese manhole cover in extensive detail…ie https://www.flickr.com/groups/japanese_manhole_covers/

So if you do happen to step foot in Japan, remember to take look at what is happening on the streets. Great art isn’t always to be found in galleries, but can often be discovered in the most unlikely of places. While exhibitions will come and go, I’m sure that this form of art will be around for a good many years to come. The humble manhole cover, as seen on most local streets, remains yet another one of those quirky artifacts of modern Japan. Although remaining functional, they continue to reflect a certain attention to civic detail, but more importantly an artistic sensitivity to an object that is so often overlooked in most other countries. Sure, it may sound a bit ‘nerdy’, but the manholes here do certainly grab your attention and are quite impressive. I guess it’s like viewing any form of art; it’s all about the search and discovery of something new… even if it is to be found just below your feet!

Walking the Fukuchiyama Line

2014-04-26T15:02:00.001+09:00

One of the things that Jules and I have always enjoyed while living here in Japan is getting away from the usual tourist spots and discovering some of its lesser known attractions. We recently experienced one such place when looking for an interesting local walking trail on a beautiful spring day. Jules had read about an abandoned stretch of railway line between Namaze and Takedao that had once run through mountains between Kobe and Kyoto. The former Fukuchiyama line had began its service in 1899 but had ceased to operate during the 1960’s, leaving behind the remnants of what must have been one of the most scenic short railway journeys in Japan.

After arriving by local train to Namaze station, we made our way past timber houses, lined vegetable gardens and then eventually under a series of massive cement pylons that holds the giant multi-laned freeway high overhead. While this is quite ugly, you can’t help but marvel at the engineering involved in creating such a monolithic structure that allows a perfectly straight road to pierce its way through the picturesque mountains. Shortly past this point the remnants of the old railway track began to emerge and we soon found ourselves entering a valley of lush green trees clinging to sheer cliffs, while a boulder filled river flowed below. Although the iron railway tracks had been pulled up years ago, the old sleepers that had once held them still remained and as we were to discover, so too was much of the stone and rusting metal infrastructure of the old line.

As we continued, we came across quite a few signs reminding hikers not to walk the line. However, this seemed more like of a notice of discouragement and a means of denying legal responsibility rather than an enforceable demand. After all, this trail had become increasingly popular with both locals and visitors over the years, so it was unlikely that access was going to be denied in the foreseeable future. There was evidence that the welfare of ‘line walkers’ had also been considered, with plenty of safety barriers erected since the closure. We guessed that the major concern was the six long tunnels that hikers would pass through during the trek. Being well aware of these, we came armed with our torch, as we had read that some tunnels are often pitch black in the middle and they were! Probably the most spectacular of the tunnels led directly onto a large riveted iron bridge that spanned the valley. Looking like something straight out of ‘Bridge Over the River Kwai’, it provided some spectacular views both upstream and down, particularly with added water from the melted winter snow now dramatically increasing the flow of the rocky rapids below.

As we walked the track we would occasionally pass other hikers heading along in the other direction. In long dark tunnels our paths would cross in torch light with polite greetings of “Konichiwa”. Not being able to be seen, we wondered whether our accent would give us away as being foreigners … probably! As we got closer toward Takedeo, we increasingly spotted family groups sitting by the banks of the river, admiring the views and being at one with nature, as is the Japanese way. The demise of the track had now provided a very convenient inroad into some of the most spectacular countryside this region has to offer, as well as providing a permanent reminder of simpler days of rail travel that have now long since passed.I imagine that if this stretch of railway line had closed today, it is unlikely that it would ever become a walking trail. No doubt a candy coloured steam train or something similar would be running tourists back and forth between the two towns. It would indeed be a spectacular short journey for those onboard, but nowhere near as peaceful as it is today. Instead the Fukuchiyama line remains a beautiful hidden gem, known by the locals and just a few visitors who make the effort to seek it out. Its attraction is not just as a gateway to the spectacularly scenic mountains, but in providing a reminiscent insight to this amazing stretch of railway that was, for a time, the everyday commute for the locals who once live here.

Spring Break in Kanazawa

2014-04-20T21:05:00.000+09:00

It has been three years since the Tohoku earthquake and tsunami that caused devastation across northern Japan and since that time, the country has been working vigorously to encourage the return of overseas tourism back to its shores. Encouraged by the gradual devaluation of the Japanese yen, sightseers have begun to return, although there remains determined competition between the various cities to attract its share of the tourist dollar. One place that continues to make positive strides in generating local and overseas interest is the city of Kanazawa. Positioned north east of Osaka, it is nicely nestled between its picturesque mountains and the Sea of Japan. With a population of less than half a million people, this ‘castle-town’ offers a very manageable alternative to many of the larger and more familiar destinations. It is also one of the few locations in Japan that has not suffered from the ravages of war or natural disaster. So with Kanazawa only a few hours away by train, Jules and I thought that we might indulge ourselves with an over-night stay to celebrate the beginning of Spring.

Emerging from the impressively modern railway station, we could feel the warming sun and while there was still snow on the mountains, there were signs that Kanazawa was beginning to thaw out from a particularly cold winter. Council workers were beginning to dismantle maypole-like structures often used as supports for tree branches laden with snow, while the first signs of pink and white blossom could just be seen. Of course the best place to observe the transformation into spring would be at the famous Kenrokuen Garden, which is widely regarded as one of the best in Japan. It sits alongside Kanazawa Castle Park, which is also a pretty impressive sight, with each capturing perfectly the symbiotic relationship between traditional Japanese culture and nature. As we wandered around the fastidiously manicured gardens, we constantly came across beautifully harmonious tableaux with visitors sitting on benches quietly absorbing the scene. A bride and groom in traditional dress were being photographed amongst the blossom of the Japanese plum grove, while close to the Meijikinen monument an old man could be seen balancing a spinning plate on a bamboo stick. There were quaint wooden teahouses jutting out over reflective ponds that narrowed into winding streams as well as the occasional gently flowing waterfall. Kenrokuen Garden was certainly living up to its reputation and with such perfect spring weather, we couldn’t imagine it looking much better.

Another reason for visiting Kanazawa was to have a look at one of the most cutting edge art galleries in Japan. The 21^st Museum of Contemporary Art was opened in 2005 and has already attracted over 1.5 million visitors. As we approached the impressive low lined circular glass building, we sensed that this minimalist environment would provide us with some interesting encounters with modern art. With permanent works from artists such as Leandro Erlich, James Turrell and Anish Kapoor, the gallery gained a reputation for innovation and has openly set itself the mission of ‘awakening Kanazawa’s creative energy and becoming a compelling regional cultural attraction’. Sadly, our creative energy was left a bit flat when we discovered that the majority of the gallery was actually closed due to preparations for its next exhibition. All we were able to do was just wander around the buildings outer perimeters, catching sight of the odd piece of art here and there. Still, we remained positive, as we have learnt over years of traveling that there are occasionally such disappointments. It certainly didn’t dampen our enjoyment of the city, after all there were plenty of other things yet to see in Kanazawa before heading home.

Kanazawa has quite a few historic districts and over the two days we were there, we spent quite some time wandering through backstreets exploring them. To the east, the Higashi Chaya area is still regarded as the geisha district of the city, with a streetscape of wooden houses that wouldn’t have changed too much since the feudal-period. To the west, the Nishi Chaya district is known for its traditional tea houses, while just a short walk away is the beautifully preserved walled residences of the Nagamachi area that allowed us to see where the samurai once lived.

Over the past few years, Jules and I have seen many Buddhist temples, but we hadn’t seen quite as many in such a concentrated place as we did in the Teramachi district (meaning ‘temple-town’). With over seventy temples packed into just a few streets, we could easily imagine how in feudal times this district would have been regarded as a major religious centre. While most of the larger temples on the main street had been well preserved, we felt that the smaller, less maintained structures in the back streets also tended to provide a valuable insight into how this area might have once been many years ago. Clearly Kanazawa was becoming more mindful of its past and was now making every effort to preserve what remains of its historic districts. By revitalizing its artistic and cultural traditions, it was not only celebrating the city’s unique place in Japanese history, but would also ensure a strong economic future through tourism.

Dining with the Sumos

2014-04-12T09:13:00.000+09:00

This years Grand Sumo Tournament was back again in Osaka and Jules and I found ourselves in the fortunate position of being invited by one of the sponsors to come along to view the big event. We had attended a couple of years ago but had found ourselves quite a way back in the upper seats, toward the back of the stadium. This time we would be viewing from what is referred to as a private box, but is in actual fact a small, tatami matted area with cushions to sit on. In any case these were very sought after cushions indeed, as they would be quite a bit closer to the action. However, the biggest bonus of the invitation was the opportunity for us to attend a post tournament dinner hosted by the Sumos themselves. This was a customary event held by the various Sumo ‘stables’ as a way of thanking sponsors and supporters, while also allowing them to meet some of Japan’s most revered sportsman in an informal setting.

It was mid afternoon on the final day of competition when we took up our positions in the box. The tournament had been running for two weeks and it was now approaching the final events that would decide the ultimate grand champion and the all important rankings. While our seats were very much sought after, it was still quite a tight squeeze, leaving little room for leg adjustment when the pins and needles eventually began to set in. However, the position was terrific; close to the action, but not too close as to have a Sumo land in your lap after being tossed off the dohyo (the raised wrestling ring). Being a sponsors box, we were being well looked after too, with drinks and a generous supply of bentos to keep us nourished between bouts. As is tradition, we were also presented with gift bags containing several nicely wrapped presents as a mark of appreciation of our support for the event…at this point Jules and I were beginning to feel a little guilty, but of course graciously accepted them rather than offend.

With the final bout having been fought and the grand champion decided (Kakuryu, with 14 victories and only one loss) it was time to head off to the Sumo dinner, but with absolutely no idea what to expect. We imagined sitting in a traditional wooden building steeped in the traditions of this ancient sport, but what we found was a surprisingly modern high rise environment, much like you would find for any corporate organisation. Sumo is after all a very professional business these days and so, much like any other corporatised sport, they too have moved with the times. We were however, pleased to be greeted by several Sumo, complete with the traditional ‘chonmage’ styled hair and dressed in their post-tournament robes. These gentle giants looked slightly out of place in this contemporary environment, but they were more than happy to act as hosts by leading us to the elevators and eventually to our seats at the front of a large conference-like room.

The formalities and award giving were about to begin, where each Sumo in the stable would be presented with an envelope of varying size, commensurate with their achievements during the tournament. With the speeches well underway, bowls of noodles, cold meats and sushi began to be served by the Sumos who, despite their size, worked their way around the tables with the graceful ease of a ballet dancer. With the formalities soon over it was time for some fun. There was passionate singing, some impersonations of famous Sumos and several rounds of audience games, all adding to a very relaxed atmosphere. The drinks and conversation flowed while small groups took their turn in having their photographs taken alongside a sizable Sumo.

Clearly the sponsors and supporters who had been especially invited to the event were all very highly regarded by this particular stable of Sumo wrestlers. They had expressed their appreciation with good humor and through the generosity of their hospitality that night. As visitors to the country and as invited guests, we too felt very special for being there. As we stood to leave, they presented us with framed signatures and other momentoes as a reminder of the evening. It had been a remarkable night and yet another one of those unforgettable experiences that Jules and I will cherish from our time here in Japan.

Anime Comes Alive in the Streets of Osaka

2014-03-30T17:51:00.000+09:00

While the traditional and historical aspects of Japanese culture still remain the central focus for ceremony and celebration, increasingly modern culture is beginning to establish its own traditions and events. This phenomenon has been primarily driven by the increasing popularity of Japanese animation (known as anime) and also through a wide range of ‘Marvel’ comic superheroes that have invaded the country through numerous action packed movies from the US. As a result, there are many anime/comic stores throughout the country where you can also buy an extensive range of books, videos, memorabilia and costumes. Here the youth of Japan often spend a small fortune on their collections and enjoy nothing more than actually dressing up and parading as their favorite characters. They certainly need little encouragement to take to the streets for the annual Nipponbashi Street Festa, which is a particularly popular annual event in Osaka. This is an anime-themed festival that his held in an area called Den Den Town, which is the electronics centre of Osaka and home to all things manga or anime.

Although the weather was cold and overcast (being March), Jules and I decided to head downtown to see what it was all about. Coming up from the underground, it was clear that this was a very popular event, with large crowds streaming into the area. Increasingly, the sight of coloured hair and strange looking costumes gave us a pretty good guide that we were heading in the right direction. Yet with temperatures plunging and the clouds quickly building, we weren’t quite sure whether festivities might soon be called off by the time we got there. We should have realized that such devoted fans are made of sterner stuff than that and even when a slight bit of snow did eventually fall they remained there in force.

With the normally busy streets closed off from traffic, a wide range of fascinating characters could be seen, each striking well practiced poses for groups of excited amateur photographers. For everyday people, dressing up in such extravagant costumes certainly generated the sort of frenzied attention that would normally be reserved for pop stars and movie idols. There were no inhibitions here, with plenty of cross-dressing and a proliferation of skimpy costumes despite the chilly weather. No one was camera shy either; they seemed to love acting out their characters and appeared to thrive on all the attention. In the parking lot, highly decorated cars adorned with popular anime graphics were also very much the centre of attention. Their owners could be seen vigorously wiping down their pride and joy once the brief burst of snow had passed and as the sun re-emerged, their shiny cars became the backdrop for even more photographs.

There was certainly no denying the energy and excitement of both the crowds and its participants at this years Nipponbashi Street Festa. The day was a celebration of youth culture and the unique way of experiencing a sample of the visual aesthetic that has emerged through the popularity of anime. Despite the weather, the tremendous sense of fun was evident, providing a positive contrast to how many from other parts of the world might perceive modern Japanese life. It was an opportunity for ordinary people to openly express their sense of fantasy amongst a crowd who clearly where in admiration of their passion for anime, manga and the world of comic book characters.

Higashiyama by Lantern Light

2014-03-22T09:15:00.000+09:00

Higashiyama is one of the most traditional and prettiest areas of Kyoto, providing a buffer between bustling downtown and lush green mountain forests beyond. It is a great place to experience old Kyoto with many traditional wooden buildings and shrines as well as a myriad of food and craft shops that cater to its constant stream of visitors. The area is particularly popular in mid-March when its picturesque narrow lanes are adorned with small lanterns for 10 days of evening illuminations. While officially this is one of the many local events that signals the start of Spring, the temperature is still a bit brisk at that time of year, particularly when the sun goes down. However, Jules and I decided to brave the chilly evening in order to experience a very different perspective of this wonderfully historic part of town.

We arrived there late in the afternoon and noticed that despite the cool temperature, the area was particularly busy in anticipation of the lights going on around 6.30pm. One thing you can say about the Japanese is that they organize such events with passion and efficiency. There are always plenty of people to direct you, delicious food stalls and extra decorations. In response such festivities are always well patronized, with crowds of all ages filing in with cameras in hand. In Kyoto the wearing of traditional dress is also very popular with many women wearing the kimono, adding to the visual spectacle set against of the traditional buildings of Higashiyama.

This area is one of our favorites at any time of the year, but it was wonderful to see pavilions such as the Yasaka Shrine lit with traditional lanterns, while the nearby pagoda was illuminated with golden lighting. Here, professional and amateur photographers queued in anticipation of the setting sun and the chance to get a once a year shot of this magnificent historic spire under lights. Having skirted around the major attractions, Jules and I then wandered into some of the quieter laneways, which we found to be just as appealing as the little lanterns beautifully set off the traditional architecture. We were also able to discover a few hidden restaurants whose simple wooden entrances might have been quite easily missed during the day.

Having spent plenty of time exploring, we were both starting to feel a little frozen and in need of a warming drink. Thankfully Jules had heard about a place that was not too far away, so after a quick taxi ride we found ourselves walking down an inconspicuous street looking for what is regarded as one of Kyoto’s most secretive bars. Eventually we came across a magnificent old Buddhist temple and true to the theme of the night, we were led along a lantern-lined pathway to its doors, where we discovered something quite special. With no signage to be seen anywhere, it was inconceivable to imagine that just to the side of the main temple was a small, yet classy 10 seater bar. Established by the enterprising monks in 2008, this tastefully designed watering hole, set amongst a beautifully manicured Japanese garden is only now beginning to be discovered by visitors to Kyoto. I must say that sitting there with a warming glass of Yamazaki whisky in hand and looking out of the floor to ceiling windows toward a lantern lit courtyard garden was all a little bit surreal. However, it was clearly the perfect way to end an illuminating evening of sights and discoveries.

A Night in a Capsule Hotel

2014-02-16T11:30:00.000+09:00

If you ever fancied living on a space station, the closest thing that you might find here on earth would be to stay at a Japanese ‘capsule’ hotel. This unique and popular form of accommodation (also referred to as ‘pod’ hotels) requires guests to sleep communally in individual capsules that are stacked on top of each other, much like those seen in many sci-fi movies. It was certainly one of those novel things that Jules and I had on our ‘to do’ list whilst living here in Japan, but until now had never got around to it. So on a wintery long weekend we headed to Kyoto with friends to enjoy some of many attractions of this great city and to experience this somewhat futuristic form of accommodation.

Jules had done some initial research on what was available and while she found the choice a little limited in Kyoto, there was a popular one called ‘9 hours’ that was right in the heart of the city and offered very modern facilities. Being a long weekend, she was lucky to arrange a booking at the bargain price of approximately $25AU a head; this capsule hotel was no doubt the most affordable form of accommodation in town. Contrary to what the name of the hotel might have suggested, here guests were provided with 24 hours of accommodation so our plan was to check in early before venturing out to enjoy the sights and eventually the city nightlife.

Upon arrival, we were warmly greeted at reception by friendly young attendants who all spoke very good English. It was clear that they were used to all manner of visitors from around the world, keen to experience this very different form of hotel. The stark white interior with minimal styling provided our first indication to the modernist décor we would experience on the floors above. With check in complete, we couldn’t resist the opportunity to further explore the facilities and made our way to the elevators. The first thing we noticed is that there was one elevator for males and another for females. Here there is a strict demarcation of areas accessible to each of the sexes, so those interested in activities other than sleeping were clearly in the wrong place. Going are own separate way, I headed to the sleeping area to find a dark room with dimly lit streamlined plastic molded sleeping ‘pods’ arranged on two levels. While each capsule was very private, it reminded me of the old bunk bed arrangement and as I climbed up to test my mattress on the upper level, memories of high school camps strangely drifted back. The sleeping pod was small, but certainly not claustrophobic. The coziness was enhanced by a privacy blind that rolled down to cover the opening rather than a solid door, which might have felt a little too hemmed in. On the floor above we were provided with our storage lockers and access to a highly functional bathroom. With everything looking so white and clean, it was as if this hotel had taken a line from the architect Le Corbusier by creating the ultimate ‘machine for living in’.

After a very indulgent evening sampling the nightlife of Kyoto, it was well past midnight by the time we made our way back to our hotel. Around this time of night the capsule hotel really comes into its own, as the cost of a stay over is far less than catching a taxi home. Subsequently, by the time we had changed into our pyjamas (also supplied) and headed to the sleeping quarters, it was clear that all of the pods were now occupied and most of its occupants were tucked away for the night. Despite the closeness of the arrangement, it was all very quiet, as it remained throughout the night, with just the occasional sound of people rousing out of their pod in the early hours of the morning. At this point I wondered whether this form of accommodation could actually work in any other country other than Japan, as the people here are for the most part so considerate of others around them. There was no conversation, no coughing or any other of the usual sounds of the morning.

So after a warm and comfortable night, I eventually rolled up my blind and emerged from my upper level capsule. Stepping tentatively backwards down the steps, I must have looked like some sort of middle aged Neil Armstrong about to step foot on the moon. It was certainly difficult not to make space-age comparisons here! This form of accommodation could well be the way of the future, but for now a stay in a capsule hotel was simply a very cool and affordable way to enjoy a night in Kyoto, Japan.

Adelaide’s New Field of Dreams

2014-01-05T13:34:00.000+09:00

Back in Adelaide for Christmas and our hometown is definitely changing. After years of languishing in its own financial crisis (commonly referred to by locals as ‘The State Bank Disaster’) during the 1980’s, the old town is finally beginning to claw its way back and is starting to provide tangible evidence of a more prosperous future. One of the most significant signs has been the return of construction cranes across the city skyline with some major government funded building projects beginning to take shape. One of the most notable has been the recent re-construction of one of the city’s most famous landmarks, The Adelaide Oval. This has also been one of the most controversial developments ever undertaken in the city, as the old cricket ground has long been considered one of the most beautiful sports grounds in the world. Here in Australia this is truly hallowed turf, where history has been made, sporting dramas unfolded and where players became legends. With a proud history that dates back to 1871, this is Australia’s very own ‘field of dreams’!

In past years, many South Australians like us spent lazy summer days laying back on its grassy mounds or sitting in the shade of its elegant old grandstands watching cricket much like the early pioneers had done a century before. Apart from the occasional concert, cricket was just about all that occurred there, with Aussie Rules football departing to suburban grounds in the 1970’s. However, the grounds prime position within easy walking distance from the city centre had long been recognized as the ideal location for a much larger sporting arena similar to the famed MCG in Melbourne. So after years of public debate, negotiations between the various sporting codes and with government financial support, the deal was finally done. By 2014 Adelaide would have its own world-class stadium at a cost of $535 million and the old ground, as generations had known it, would be no more.

By the end of 2013 the new facility had already hosted its first international cricket match and with a Rolling Stones concert planned for March, the new Adelaide Oval was now almost complete, so we decided to take a walk around the complex to see it for ourselves close-up. This was a very strange experience for Jules and myself, as when we left Adelaide in 2009 the old oval was still very much in tack. Now, as we looked toward the ground from the statue of Colonel Light (the city’s original town planner) in its elevated position on Montefore Hill, the scene was almost unrecognizable. The most notable reminder of the old days was the traditional wooden scoreboard that still remains at the northern end, but it was dwarfed by the concrete and steel structures that now surround much of the ground. Having taken a tour through this Edwardian tin and wood structure many years ago, and having viewed firsthand the antiquated mechanisms and the conditions that scorekeepers endure during a game, it now appeared not surprisingly out of place, particularly set alongside the large digital screen right next door. Being a heritage building we felt reassured by the knowledge that it would be preserved in some way, but we couldn’t help think that its tenure at the new ground was now limited.

As we walked around the ground and entered through the new gates to view a brief video about the ovals great history, we continued to debate the wisdom of the decision to re-invent this beautiful old ground. I had visited Wrigley Field in Chicago several years ago and had very much respected the way this bastion of baseball had been lovingly preserved, yet on the other hand we had also seen the ‘Birds Nest’ Olympic stadium in Beijing and noted what a significant landmark it had become. After all it wasn’t just the viewing of sport that had instigated such a major decision, but rather the broader ramifications of such a development upon the mindset of the city as a whole. Such a major economic, social and cultural landmark would certainly have huge implications for the future of Adelaide that were simply too great to ignore. While Jules largely remained unconvinced, preferring the elegance of the old ground, the new stadium was beginning to win me over. Although, I too am a traditionalist at heart, I acknowledge that modern sport is very much big business these days requiring state of the art facilities and while a brand new stadium may have been a more desirable option, it always remained an economical pipe dream. So in this case progress had defeated tradition and while the initial signs are positive and the stadium itself impressive, only time will tell whether it was indeed the right decision.

Thinking Out of the Box at the Kobe Biennale

2013-12-08T12:12:00.000+09:00

Coming hot on the heals after our visit to the Venice Biennale several months ago, Jules and I thought that we would tackle the local version with the Kobe Biennale. Kobe is probably our favorite major city in Japan, being sandwiched between water on one side and mountains on the other and this event is just one of the many festivals that regularly occur in this scenic location. Having suffered the devastation of the Great Hanshin Earthquake in 1995, the city has over the years done remarkably well to rebuild itself not only structurally, but also more importantly as a community. Today it is once again a major tourist destination competing admirably with both Osaka and Kyoto and being essentially a seaport, it remains the starting point for many cruise ships visiting the Kansai region. In fact it would be the dockland area that would be the starting point for the Kobe Biennale, but the event would become a magical mystery tour that would take us through much of the city.

The Biennale was one of the more positive things that emerged following the 1995 earthquake, when art was recognized by the community as a means of healing both the heart and the mind. Art was seen as a way of bringing vitality back to the city by promoting its cultural connections with the past and to provide a creative vision of its contemporary future. So from humble beginnings, the event continued to grow to become quite a significant event on the Biennale calendar, of which there are now around 150 across the globe. However, what makes the Kobe Biennale particularly unique is that a large part of it is displayed in and around shipping containers, of which there are many in this huge port area. So this is where Jules and I began, by moving systematically from one container to another to experience a myriad of works including installation pieces, paintings by featured artists, examples of traditional Japanese calligraphy as well as displays and workshops from various local art schools.

While the exhibition was now in its last week (it runs from October 1 – December 1), it was good to see that it was still attracting a sizable local crowd who were certainly entering into the spirit of the event and finding it to be a positive uplifting experience. While our experience at the Venice Biennale represented the serious side of the modern art world, here it was far more relaxed. Maybe it was the novelty of using shipping containers as miniature galleries that often forced us to be at close quarters with other patrons or simply the open-air venue that promoted a level of conversation and laughter that is rarely seen in more austere traditional galleries. No matter what the reason, everyone appeared to be enjoying the creative endeavors of the mostly Japanese artists whose works were on display and clearly the original mission of the event was being fulfilled.

Having spent a couple of hours moving in and out of shipping containers, Jules and I eventually hit the streets with map in hand to head out to find some of the other venues. There remained much to see with locations spread throughout Kobe. You could even board a boat that would take you along the coastline to view sculptural works from the water, however with time pressing, we opted to tackle much of the remaining exhibits by foot and initially headed over to one of the main shopping areas that follows the railway line through the heart of the city from Motomachi to Sannomiya. Here nestled between antique shops, trendy boutiques, cafes and old vinyl records shops were small temporary galleries housing several or sometimes just one significant work of art. While the works at each venue were interesting, I must confess it was just as much fun finding them. From there we made our way to more traditional venues such as the Hyogo Prefectural Museum of Art and the Yokoo Tadanori Museum of Contemporary Art.

It was getting dark by the time we emerged from the last gallery and a blister was forming on my toe from all the walking we had done throughout the day. The event had been much bigger than we had imagined when we began and we had by no means seen it all. However, we had seen enough to be impressed. As an art event, it certainly couldn’t be compared to the Venice Biennale, but what it had lacked in international representation or status, it had made up through its energy and enthusiasm. There was a justifiable pride in what the event had to offer and it was clear that it is going to be around for a good many years to come. The city of Kobe had certainly embraced its artistic heritage and through their Biennale, it had ensured its commitment to all forms of visionary and creative expression.

Gigantor…Alive and Well and Living in the Suburbs

2013-11-30T15:29:00.000+09:00

If you were a television kid like me in Australia in the late 1960’s, you would well remember the introduction of the first animated cartoons that arrived from Japan. Of course we didn’t realise that they were from Japan at the time, only that the characters looked unusual (typically portrayed with large wide doe eyes) and the overall style of the animation was distinctively different from anything eminating from America. Little did we know that these animated shows would become the forerunner of what we now recognise as the ‘Japanese anima’ phenomenon. For me the standout series at the time was ‘Gigantor’ (debuting in Adelaide, South Australia on October 28 1968), which told of the adventures of a 12 year old boy who was able to control a somewhat portly looking 50 foot jet propelled robot in a fight against evil throughout the world. My friends and I just loved this series and couldn’t wait to catch each episode. Although the series only lasted for several months, there were plenty of re-runs to keep us entertained, until eventually the show disappeared from our screens.

I had almost totally forgotten about Gigantor until reading about the existence of a life size statue of the animated character somewhere in the suburbs of Kobe. It seems that Mitsuteru Yokoyama, the artist who had created ‘Gigantor’ (or ‘Tetsujin-28’ as he was originally known in Japan), had grown up in Kobe and had remained somewhat of a local hero due to his efforts in breaking into the American market and eventually worldwide with his popular animated cartoons. The statue had been built to honor him and his most famous animated character in 2009, and coincided with the 15th anniversary of the great Hanshin earthquake (1995). It was hoped that the Gigantor statue would act as a protector against such disasters in the future, while also providing a means of revitalizing interest in the local region.

So after Jules had done the necessary research, we headed out of central Kobe on the local train to the suburb of Nagata in a kind of pilgrimage to the TV memories of my childhood. When we arrived, we could see that while ‘Gigantor’ might be a very distant animated memory in other parts of the world, here he remained very much alive and a respected attraction to this region. Posters, stickers and billboards could be seen throughout the railway station with signage directing us to Wakamatsu Park where the metallic mega-hero could be found. He was in fact pretty hard to miss standing a full-scale 18 metres or 59 feet tall and in full action pose. Amazingly enough and despite his vintage as a super hero, he was still attracting some interest, with small groups of visitors keen to have their photo taken posing beneath his giant robotic legs…so of course, I had to as well!

While Jules had little recollection of the animated adventures of Gigantor, for me seeing him once again brought back plenty of happy childhood memories. It was good to see that the character was being appreciated within Japan as a significant aspect of their emerging post war culture. Television shows like Gigantor, The Samurai, Astro Boy, Kimba the White Lion and Marine Boy certainly enabled generations of the 50’s and 60’s to gain a new appreciation for Japanese aesthetic through the medium of television and in some way, programs such as these possibly helped to heal some of the old wounds of the past. I was interested to read that Twentieth Century Fox had bought the rights to the Gigantor franchaise and that a script for a movie had been developed before Yokayama’s death in 2004. Since then the project has remained shelved, but maybe one day Gigantor will once again take to the skies and a new generation will be able to follow his exploits. If so, you can expect an avalanche of visitors to see the big metal man of Nagata and I guess that’s exactly what the local businesses are hoping for.

Exploring Himeji Castle Undercover

2013-11-25T21:22:00.004+09:00

While enjoying an overnight stay in Kobe, Jules and I finally decided to visit famed Himeji Castle. We had been meaning to explore this historic landmark for quite some time but with the castle currently going through a massive five-year restoration project and covered in scaffolding, we weren’t quite sure what we might actually see. I had seen the castle from a distance in all its glory just a few months after our arrival in Japan while passing through on the bullet train and in hindsight we probably should have visited then before the work had begun. Still, the opportunity to view one of the truly great historic buildings of Japan could not be missed and so on a delightfully sunny autumn day, we took a comfortable 40 minute local train ride from Kobe to Himeji to see it close up.

Also known as ‘The White Heron Castle’ because of its distinctive white walls and a roofline that resembles the spreading wings of the heron bird, Himeji Castle remains quite a remarkable example of fourteenth century architecture. Although the building has undergone a number of major restorations during its long life, it has successfully managed to survive wars, fires, bombing and earthquakes and unlike other castles in Japan, remains almost perfectly preserved. Not surprisingly, the castle was designated a national treasure in 1931 and granted UNESCO World Heritage status in 1993 (the first landmark in the country to do so). It remains the most visited castle in Japan and has provided the setting for a number of major movies including the James Bond film 'You Only Live Twice' (1967) and 'The Last Samurai' (2003).

As Jules and I exited the train station, we could see a huge box like structure on a nearby hill, which we knew was Himeji Castle because of the painted representation on the outside of the scaffolding cover. Memories of our visit to Neuschwanstein Castle in Germany flashed back, where we were also prevented from viewing an historic castle due to renovations. As we got closer, the sheer scale of the restoration work became increasingly evident although what also became clear was that the scale of the grounds would still provide plenty for us to see. Also there was the added bonus of tourist numbers having been greatly reduced, which would make our tour around the castle far more leisurely than what would normally be the case.

As it turned out, our Japanese hosts had also made every effort to compensate for all of the restoration work by providing a very unique perspective on the castle exterior. They had sensibly installed a glass sided exterior elevator to take visitors to the top of the building from which you could descend by stairs while viewing architectural details at close quarters as the restoration was continuing. This allowed us to see the meticulous work that was proceeding by artisans who were using traditional building methods to repair plaster walls, woodwork and thousands of ancient roof tiles. While much of the exterior work appeared to be coming to an end, there would still be at least two more years of work to be done as attention now turned to the interior.

While Jules and I would have loved to have seen Himeji Castle without the encumbrance of scaffolding and coverings, we certainly did not leave disappointed. We had been provided with a unique close-up perspective of the exterior of the main building that others would not normally experience. The grounds were magnificent and we were able to venture inside several outer buildings to gain an insight into the lifestyle of those who lived there during ancient times. We admired the sheer scale of the stonework that had been pieced together like a giant jigsaw puzzle, on top of which ancient builders had created one of the most beautiful buildings in Japan. Likewise, we knew that with all of the work that is currently being undertaken, this piece of Japanese heritage would soon be uncovered to once again be admired by visitors for many centuries to come.

The Power of a Big Rubber Duck

2013-10-14T18:28:00.000+09:00

The world of fine art is very often regarded as a very serious business these days, with works being carefully analysed for their aesthetic qualities or metaphorically peeled back like an onion in an effort to interpret their deep conceptual meaning. However, occasionally an artwork comes along that defies the temptation to enter into intellectual hyperbole and instead simply makes the viewer smile. Such is the case of the ‘Rubber Duck’ installation sculpture project by Dutch artist Florentijn Hofman that has bobbed up in many of the world’s harbours and waterways, creating great interest and excitement in its wake. Having read about the arrival of the forty foot yellow duck in Osaka, Jules and I felt duty bound to head down to the Aji River where the work was on display for the Aqua Metropolis Festival.

When this fun, over scaled floating sculpture was conceived, the artist set about to achieve the goal of "spreading joy around the world" by tapping into this highly recognizable symbol of childhood memory. Since its creation in 2007, several scaled versions of the design have visited 14 major cities of the world and been enjoyed by millions of spectators. It’s now regarded by the artist as somewhat of an endearing global ambassador, stating that “the world is our global bathtub” and that we all have a responsibility to “take care of each other in this bathtub of the rubber duck”. A bold sentiment indeed, but if any man-made object had the capacity to achieve that goal, it would certainly be the disarming nature of this giant Rubber Duck.

By the time Jules and I arrived at the Osaka docks, the mighty Rubber Duck was working its magic by luring thousands of locals out of their apartments to view the piece. I couldn’t imagine many other artworks that would have quite the capacity to generate such a crowd on a Sunday afternoon. Nor would such a work have anywhere near the same impact in a traditional gallery setting. This is what public art is all about … generating public interest by engaging viewers with a common sense of enjoyment, if only for a fleeting moment.

One of the elements that allow this piece to work so successfully is its scale. While it is nowhere near as large as a building, it somehow manages to rival a city skyline in a way that we humans are unable to do. Maybe because it’s a small object enlarged, that it somehow appears even bigger than it actually is? Certainly its colour and smooth form are in stark contrast to the grey tones and sharp edges of our man-made world. Like all other significant Pop Art pieces, the ‘Rubber Duck’ is highly familiar yet upon first viewing we are suddenly thrown by the completely different context in which it is presented. Much like the ‘Mouse that Roared’, it demands attention and it certainly gets it! For the Japanese there is also one other major factor that allows the ‘Rubber Duck’ to have such public appeal … it’s cute!

It’s appearance in Osaka had certainly set a happy tone amongst the crowd who also enjoyed some of the other public art works on display, each possessing their own particular sense of humor. Jules and I were particularly amused by a piece devised as a public toilet with an enlarged replica of the famous ‘Peeing Boy’ statue of Brussels (‘Manneken Pis’) placed on its roof. Crowds would wait patiently until a patron entered the toilet, inevitably causing large jets of water to spray from the statue into the river and at that point the cameras would click to great amusement all round. However the day belonged to the big ‘Rubber Duck’ who had once again proved the power of its presence and that in the world of public art, size does indeed matter.

Life's a Beach at 'The Lido'

2013-08-14T09:34:00.000+09:00

Having visited Venice only a year ago, Jules and I were keen to venture a little wider in our exploration of the island as well as other popular spots close by across the water. On our previous trip we had skirted a number of intriguing looking islands on the way from the airport and were keen to take a closer look this time around. One such place was Lido (more often referred to as ‘The Lido’), the largest of the islands that surround the main island of Venice and one that is so easily accessible by Vaperetto (local waterbus). The island itself is actually a very long thin sandbar that acts like a protective buffer between Venice and the Adriatic Sea, but over the years it has grown into a substantial town that has forged it’s own unique identity. So in mid-August and with 35+ degree temperatures, it didn’t take too much to convince us that a trip on the water to what is essentially a beach resort, would be a very good idea.

After a short boat trip we walked through the most modern Vaperetto Terminal in the Venice area to step into a world that was substantially different than the place we had departed from. No longer were there old crumbling buildings and narrow canals, but rather well kept homes, wide streets and cars! This might not seem particularly unusual, but when you compare it to Venice it was. While traffic had been imported via the ferry from the mainland, it seemed that the preferred mode of transport here was actually bicycles. This gave the town a nice relaxed feel, as they were clearly suited to an island of this size. We however, chose to use foot-power to make our way across to the opposite side of the island to inspect its celebrated white sandy beach (quite unusual for Europe). Here swimming and sunbathing had been taken to a highly organized and business-like level, reminiscent of the shores of Positano. While neat rows of colour matched umbrellas and sunbeds lined one side of the beach, the other side had rows of huts of varying sizes and luxury that were all available for hire. This was totally different from the laise-fare style of beach bathing we were used to in Australia. Obviously Italian sun worshippers were not merely satisfied with the clear waters and sandy beaches, but also desired resort style creature comforts to accompany them and were more than happy to pay for the privilege.

While the water was certainly tempting, we decided to bypass the beach in an effort to seek out one of Venice’s hidden secrets … The Lido Market. Jules had on a previous day asked a local whether there was a regular street market in Venice, only to be assured that there was none to be found. However, this didn’t deter her and she eventually discovered that Lido was the place to go. So after a bit of searching we finally managed to find it on the north-western bank of the island, set quite a distance away from the main part of the town. It was almost as if its location and the lack of information about the market was a cunning ploy to keep the tourists at bay, as there seemed to be very few foreigners to be found. Yet, what they were missing was one of the biggest and best street markets Jules and I had ever seen in Europe. The location was so picturesque and it had a terrific atmosphere, with excited locals stocking shopping bags full with all manner of produce and goods. We too picked up a few things, but in the end we simply couldn’t resist the smell of the spit-roasted chickens. So when the market was all but over, we sat contentedly on the bank that faced back toward Venice happily devouring our chicken accompanied with fresh baked bread … hard to imagine a better lunch!

As we headed away back toward the town, we couldn’t help but notice some of the impressive villas set back from the streets. Lido was certainly a grand old town and it reminded us very much of some of the places we had visited along the French Riviera. Not surprisingly it is often referred to as ‘The Golden Island’ and has over the years developed into a much preferred holiday spot for those who are happy to remain at arms length from the crowds and commercialism of central Venice. It does however attract it’s own audience toward the end of August when film buffs invade Lido for the annual Venice Film Festival, which remains the longest running and one of the most prestigious in the world. In a couple of weeks the festivities would all start again with George Clooney in town to launch his latest movie, so no doubt Jules would have liked to have stayed a whole lot longer!

Lido had proved to be quite a surprise in many ways; such a contrast to the familiar scenes of Venice, to be found just a kilometer or so across the water. We thought that if we ever returned to this part of the world again we would certainly consider staying here, as it seemed to offer something just that little bit different. Enjoying yet another day of glorious summer weather, it had certainly been the perfect place to spend our last full day in Italy and it had provided us with yet another truly memorable experience. It is not surprising that the term ‘Lido’ had become a byword for the relaxed lifestyle of a watery resort, but as Jules and I found out, it turns out ‘The Lido’ is a whole lot more than that!

Palace of Creativity at the Venice Biennale

2013-08-11T10:24:00.000+09:00

Given the decision of whether to spend our final few days in Italy in either Rome or Venice, the choice wasn’t difficult. Having avoided Venice previously because we believed it was a tourist trap, we had recently become enthusiastic converts having finally discovered it just a year ago. It turned out that Venice actually was a tourist trap after all, but oh what a trap! This city is so wonderfully unique that it simply can’t be resisted and so once again we were more than happy to take the bait. There was also another important reason for visiting once again and that was because this was the year of the renowned ‘Venice Biennale’. Occurring on every odd numbered year, this major exhibition attracts the world’s foremost contemporary artists and in the world of visual art it simply doesn’t get much bigger than this. As an art teacher, the Biennale is something that is generally read about but seldom experienced first hand, so the opportunity for me to visit would certainly be an added bonus.

With its origins dating back to 1895, the Venice Biennale has continued to evolve and now involves numerous countries from throughout the world presenting works based upon a selected theme. The theme of this years Biennale was ‘Palazzo Enciclopedico’ (The Encyclopedic Palace) ... “the desire to know and understand everything, a desire that recurs throughout the history of art” and not surprisingly the interpretation of that theme would vary enormously as we were to discover. With each country displaying their contribution in either the central exhibition halls or in their own purpose built pavilions spread over two sites, the exhibition would take many hours to view. So Jules and I prepared ourselves for a very big day and joined one of the queues that form early each day throughout the duration the Biennale (June to November), resulting in an attendance that regularly tops 300,000.

We began in The Giardini (The Gardens), which provided a leafy environment quite unlike anywhere else in Venice. Here, set amongst the trees is the large Central Pavilion as well as 30 other permanent national pavilions, each different in size and design. The grounds were spacious and on a warm summers day Jules and I enjoyed just wandering between venues in anticipation of what the next country might have to offer. Of course we patriotically sought out the Australian pavilion and while being a little confused about the work on display, we were particularly impressed by the contemporary nature of the exhibition space itself, complete with a retractable roof. We were also interested in the way each country chose to mount their exhibition. Some presented several artists who each interpreted the theme, while others simply chose to display only one large-scale work. Several other pieces combined elements of performance, with other works encouraging the interactivity of the viewer. Jules became involved with an installation by Russian artist Vadim Zakharov that consisted of a shower of gold coins falling three storeys high through the floors of the pavilion to the basement below to form a large pile of money on the ground. From here, only woman viewers (this is were Jules comes in) were invited to pick up a handful of the coins and place them into a bucket to be manually cranked back up by a man to the top so that the coins could shower down once again. Fortunately an umbrella was provided so that Jules could avoid being stoned to death by the force of the falling coins but otherwise it was all good fun, visually interesting and somehow managed to combine a vaguely cryptic social message.

Later we would head over to the second major site at The Arsenale (the original Venetian arsenal built in the 12th century) where the creative output continued. Here the works on display were even more adventurous with several exhibits combining film and audiovisual elements that often jarred our senses. While many of these were popular, we much preferred the more contemplative pieces such as those displayed in the Indonesian pavilion (their first ever contribution to the Biennale) that included a mystical piece by Albert Yonathan Setyawan entitled ‘Cosmic Labyrinth: The Silent Path’. Here under subdued lighting, a simple ceramic form had been repeated then positioned on the floor to create a visually evocative sculptural installation that perfectly reflected both its culture of origin and the title of the piece. Jules on the other hand was drawn to the sight and aroma of the floor installation of Sonia Falcona in the Latin American pavilion entitled ‘Campo de Color’, that consisted of hundreds of clay pots filled with colourful spices. I also particularly enjoyed viewing all 50 chapters of the ‘The Book of Genesis’ by Robert Crumb (one of my illustrative heroes) and I had to admire the way in which he tackled such an unlikely subject matter, taking him four years to complete the illustrations.

We had begun the day at 10.00am and walked out of the final pavilion at 6.00pm … it had been a marathon day, but one that was quite unforgettable. Like most art exhibitions, you are not expected to like all of the works that you encounter. Each has its own individual resonance and that’s what makes viewing contemporary art such a fascinating experience. The art works that we had viewed throughout the day had impressed us, inspired us, amused us, unsettled us, shocked us, entertained us and confused us, but they certainly didn’t disappoint. I had written copious notes on a small pad and had taken many photographs (it’s wonderful that the Biennale allows you to do that), so there was plenty for me to take away from the experience and eventually share with my students. The Venice Biennale had been a celebration of creativity that I was thankful to have experienced at least once.

A Pilgrimage of Faith and Food

2013-08-08T11:39:00.000+09:00

Umbria is a fascinating region of Italy that continues to attract visitors from all over the world for all sorts of reasons. For Jules and myself, it was its inescapable beauty and of course its great food and wine, but for others a journey to Umbria is much more of a religious pilgrimage. Indeed, the Christian faith here remains one of the most potent symbols of the region, evident in its incredible number of churches and its wealth of paintings and frescoes created during the peak period of the Renaissance. Of course, in the end all these factors begin to somehow overlap once you visit some of its major towns. Whether you are a Christian or not, you cannot fail to be impressed by its aesthetic contribution to the arts, while the link to the religion of gastronomy is also pretty hard to avoid. This was certainly our impression when we visited two of the more famous sacred towns of Umbria located not too far away from our home-base of Spoleto.

Assisi was about a 45 minute train ride away and offered us an opportunity to visit one of the prettiest and most significant religious towns in the country. As the birthplace of St. Francis and home of the Franciscan Order that he founded, Assisi is regarded as the most visited Catholic site outside of the Vatican. Upon our arrival we could see the old township of Assisi sitting high on the hill, distinguishable by the rows of arches that form the Basilica. In 1997 the walled city was hit by two devastating earthquakes, causing considerable damage to its historic buildings, requiring much repair work to be done in the preceding years. As we entered through the giant arches and made our way up the hill, we could clearly see the dedicated efforts of artisans in bringing the town back to its former glory. While the restoration is impeccable, we thought that it had tended to take away much of the patina of age, giving the town an almost ‘theme park’ quality. This feeling was further accentuated when we caught sight of coach loads of visitors descending upon the town and with that, the inevitable array of tourist stores that line its streets.

I’m not quite sure what the collective word for nuns is … Google suggested a flap of nuns, a convert of nuns, a gaggle of nuns and even a Whoopi of nuns! Whatever it is, there certainly seemed to be a lot of nuns in town visiting the various sites. It’s was clearly apparent that in the world of saints, St. Francis was indeed a superstar, attracting many faithful followers through his love of nature and animals. However, he is actually only one of the seven saints associated with Assisi, so there was plenty here to attract the nuns. Groups wearing the habit of their denomination could be seen wandering the streets throughout the town, admiring the churches, soaking up the history and picking up the odd souvenir. While we didn’t linger quite as long, Jules and I also weaved our way through the lanes, working our way upward to eventually reach the medieval castle called Rocca Maggiori. From this imposing building we were rewarded with the best vantage point to admire the town and the beautiful surrounding countryside.

Like most Umbrian towns, Assisi prides itself upon its homemade pasta, locally produced olive oil and truffles. There are also some particularly nice locally made wines and beers. However, the Franciscan monks have generally been reluctant to get themselves too involved in its production, leaving that enterprise to the Benedictine monks down the road in the nearby town of Norcia. Here, in the birthplace of St. Benedict, the monks have long been supported by their production of wine and beer and over the years they have developed some rather refined skills in that area. More recently they established a commercial brewery to produce a beer called ‘Birra Nursia’ that continues this centuries old tradition. In the name of research, we managed to sample a drop over lunch and it was certainly comparable with the best Belgian beers.

Norcia is much smaller than Assisi and has nowhere near the tourist traffic. It is located in a beautifully picturesque hilly location, which was easily accessible to Jules and I by bus. While for some a pilgrimage here means a visit to the birthplace of the Benedictine Order, for Jules it was the lure of the town’s reputation for cheese and pork products. The area is also well known for the quality of its truffles and the hunting of wild boar, which eventually finds its way into prized sausages and salami. The products produced here are so popular that they are shipped far and wide, providing a very sustainable industry for the towns folk. In fact the two major laneways in the old town are lined with little shops referred to as ‘Norciarias’ that are crammed with cured meat products hanging from their rafters and the overwhelming smell of cheese emanating into the streets.

In the centre of the town is the main piazza where a statue of St. Benedict takes pride of place and at one stage, we stepped into the town hall where several photos from the 1800’s reveal how little the town had actually changed over the years. I imagine that going back even further it would have looked pretty much the same as it did in the 13th century when the original monastery was first built and indeed why should it change! This is a sleepy little town with long established routines and traditions providing a lifestyle that would be difficult to improve upon. From the point of view of outsiders such as us, it seemed that the town’s folk had managed to get it right a long time ago. They had recognized that the secret to a good life could be found by simply providing sustenance for the spirit and for the stomach and who can argue with that!

A Close Shave in Spoleto

2013-08-06T11:17:00.000+09:00

If you have to shave, you can’t beat a shave from an Italian barber! This is something that Jules has heard me say often over and over. However, I must admit that the statement was actually based upon my one and only experience of having my then youthful stubble shaved by an old Italian barber back in Adelaide over 35 years ago. This satisfying and somewhat precarious experience with the cut-throat razor was so memorable that I have been espousing the qualities of the Italian barbering profession ever since. This all came to mind once again when we were walking through the market square of Spoleto and spied a traditional Italian barber shop or ‘barbiere’ as they are called in Italy. Here was the perfect opportunity for me to once again experience the deft hand of a master barber and hopefully confirm what I have been spouting about for all these years.

After a few days of cultivating my now graying stubble, I was all ready to tackle the ‘big shave’ when Jules and I headed into town to visit the local barbiere. Jules was there to not only see what all the fuss was about, but to help with the Italian language, as mine can only be described as rubbish! However as she soon found out, she was about to set foot into one of the few strictly male domains left in town. As we walked into the shop, it was like stepping back into the 1950’s with a couple of old-fashioned barber chairs placed on a decoratively patterned terrazzo floor. In one of the chairs there was an older gentleman having the finishing snips to his haircut by the elderly barber, who was immaculately presented in the white coat of his profession. Along the back wall was a row of low-slung tubular steel chairs in which a couple of similarly older men were reading their newspapers. As we parted the string tassels that hung over the doorway, everything appeared to stop. Newspapers were lowered as it became clear that not only was this new customer a stranger to town, but he was also accompanied by a woman!!

With all ears listening, Jules explained in Italian that the scruffy looking character standing alongside her was actually her husband who desperately needed a shave. With a half smile, the barber pointed to the waiting chairs and said ‘un momento’. At this stage I thought that it might take quite a bit longer than a minute considering that there were two other customers also waiting, but I was wrong. It seems that the old guys reading their newspapers were actually just in the shop to hangout, get away from their wives and/or generally observe the comings and goings of the town. A foreigner visiting the barbiere seemed quite amusing to them and would obviously provide something different to talk about over the pasta at lunch.

With the previous customer completed and the necessary small talk over, it was now my turn step up. However, I had forgotten that here they were running on Italian time, where everything appears to work in slow and casual motions. So as I waited, there was a leisurely sweep of the floor, careful dusting of the chair and a timely re-organising of the tools of the trade, all done at a pace that belies the fast paced world that most non-Italians now live. For me this was somewhat reassuring, as I sensed that the same slow and careful approach might also be applied to the use of the cut-throat razor and that was fine by me! All in good time I found myself sitting back in the chair and having my face lathered up with a soft hog hair shaving brush to form a thick foamy beard. Then with the raise of an arm, much like a conductor would do when about to signal the initial notes of a symphony, he began. After the first few swipes of the razor I could clearly tell that here was a professional at work. The angle of the blade, the steadiness of hand and the lack of hesitation suggested years of experience. My stubbly bristles were quickly erased as he confidently maneuvered his way around the contours of my face with the sharpest of blades in hand. With a final soothing balm applied, it was all over and as I felt the smoothness of my chin, it felt just as smooth as I had remembered it from all those years ago.

While it had been a little intimidating at first, the barber and his customers had quickly gathered that we were visiting his little shop as a gesture of admiration for his skills and they were very patient to indulge our curiosity. Although our Italian small talk was somewhat limited, we were gushingly complementary to him for his handiwork … bellissimo! He in turn had asked where we were from … ‘Australia’ we replied … ‘ah Australia’ he said, although it probably could have been Mars as far as he was concerned. Anywhere outside the ancient walls of Spoleto would likely seem like another world to him. While I would have liked to explain to him about my motivation for visiting, it would have been undoubtedly lost in translation. So in the end I will just have to be satisfied in being able to reiterate to anyone who’ll listen … you simply can’t beat a shave from an Italian barber!

Our House in Umbria

2013-08-04T11:38:00.000+09:00

In 2003, author William Trevor published a novella called ‘My House in Umbria’ that was later produced into a tele-movie staring Maggie Smith. The film was highly successful and received a host of Emmy awards. However more significantly, the spin-off from all this publicity was that it suddenly resulted in a much greater awareness of Umbria. Up until then this relatively small region of Italy had tended to be overlooked, being somewhat overshadowed by nearby Tuscany, which had provided the idyllic setting for so many popular books and movies. The fact is that Umbria was always just as picturesque as Tuscany and to anyone other than the Italians, it had tended to remain a hidden treasure. Having spent a little time in Tuscany a few years ago, we were now keen to discover a little bit more about Umbria for ourselves. So Jules set about finding a little house where we could base ourselves while exploring the region and also allow us to experience just a taste of Umbrian life.

The most obvious choice was the regional capital of Umbria, Perugia. As we were to discover later, it is a very picturesque old town that sits high on a hill, with an impressive array of grand buildings and chapels overlooking the beautiful Umbrian countryside. Its central piazza is wide and impressive with a large central fountain in the centre that looks much like a very large wedding cake. Perugia is essentially a university town that attracts students from all around the world and as a result it is quite large with more modern suburbs stretching out from its centre. While it certainly had some appeal, we thought that it might be a little too big for us and as it turned out it was. We were looking for a town that was smaller, a little more intimate and with the original classical architectural features you would expect in this part of the world but with some of the more modern conveniences. Somewhere that was a bit like us … with a love for good food, fine wine and a healthy appreciation for the arts … in other words, the perfect Italian town! Not surprisingly, Jules with her exhaustive research managed to find just such a place … Spoleto!

Having selected the town, the next trick was trying to find the best place to stay. Fortunately Jules managed to find a little gem! Set on several acres and tucked away on the hillside overlooking the town was a rustic little house that was simply advertised as an ‘artists retreat’. From here we could enjoy the stunning views and find a touch of isolation in the Italian countryside, while still being within easy walking distance to the town … perfetto! It was only shortly before our arrival that we learnt a little more about the significance of this particular house which would further add to its appeal. It turns out that it had once been the residence of the celebrated American abstract artist Sol LeWitt who had moved to Italy during the 1980’s. He had clearly been attracted to this town not only for its beauty but also by its progressive acceptance to modern art. During the early 1960’s another great artist Alexander Calder had set the trend by building and donating an enormous sculptural piece entitled ‘Teodelapio’, which still stands like a large black sentinel in front of the railway station. Later in 1967 the progressive American designer Buckminster Fuller also visited to supervise the construction of what he called the ‘Spoletosphere’, which was a work based upon his theories of geodesic dome construction. Over the years many other modern sculptures have appeared in and around the town, often providing a stunning contrast to the backdrop of classical renaissance architecture. Of course Spoleto’s association with the arts has not just been limited to the fine arts and it certainly was way ahead of it’s time during the 1950’s in establishing a world renowned music festival that still continues to draw big crowds to this day.

So it was with much anticipation that we finally arrived in Spoleto in the height of summer, although you wouldn’t have known it looking at the green shades of the countryside. The house and the town was everything that we had imagined. Both had the type of character and beauty that only seems to come with age and having witnessed numerous significant passages of history. The elevated views of the town were quite something, as were the outlooks provided by the walking trails at the back of the house that took us up through the woods to the tiny town of Monteluca. Another well worn track led us down toward Spoleto itself, where we would cross the 13th century aqueduct (an engineering marvel in itself) and past the imposing Rocco Albornoziana Fortress, both of which look particularly evocative at night under lights.

In the town the excitement of its annual music festival had subsided and life was now settling back into its regular laid back mode. At this time of year there were far fewer tourists and those who did come were quite happy to just marvel at its celebrated frescoes or wander the streets photographing the many picturesque laneways. For Jules the attraction was, as always, the food. There was an outstanding range of restaurants where the local pasta specialty ‘strangozzi’ could be washed down with a deep red Sagrantino wine from nearby Montefalco. She particularly enjoyed the freshly carved ‘porchetta’ on baked bread, as well the overwhelming selection of cured meats. This is also the home of the prized black truffle, which seemed to be added to just about every dish, much like we would use salt or pepper. Naturally the gelati also figured prominently during our many walks around the town, although we never did manage to work our way through all the flavours.

Some days we wouldn’t even leave the house, but would be quite satisfied to just live the life of ‘would be Italians’. Inspired by freshly bought produce and some newfound knowledge about cooking truly authentic Italian dishes, Jules would enthusiastically take to the kitchen. I on the other hand, would head for the garden to paint, inspired by both the setting and the creative energy that the house itself provided. Our time in Spoleto would be all too brief, only three weeks, but so eminently memorable. We will no doubt reminisce about the time we spent here for many years to come and I suspect that we will not be able to resist the temptation of referring to the place in which we stayed as ‘our house in Umbria’.

Capri and Cool Breezes

2013-07-30T11:12:00.000+09:00

While there is no doubt that the Amalfi Coast has one of the most spectacular coastlines in the world, it’s really all about the water! So clear and the colour of Persian Blue, everyone who visits in the heat of summer are overcome with the immediate urge to either get in it, get on it or enjoy the cool breezes that come off it! Along the coast, thousands crowd tiny beaches while slightly off shore, hundreds of boats take to the water to enjoy Amalfi’s waters. We had already been out to sea once since arriving, but we were keen to find another excuse to further enjoy the Mediterranean, so what better way than to take the boat over to the renowned island of Capri that lay just over 30 minutes away.

Having been on board quite a tiny craft a few days before, we were quite surprised by the size of the boat that would be taking us over to the island. Clearly its large capacity was an indication of the amount of people that normally head over to Capri during the summer months, so we began to brace ourselves for the type of tourist onslaught that is normally reserved for major Italian holiday hotspots. Fortunately, in the end the boat was well below capacity by the time we departed Positano, so we could position ourselves nicely along the gunwale to enjoy the views and of course the cooling sea breezes. As we powered along, we skirted the three small rugged looking islands collectively called ‘Li Galli’ that apparently have a history dating back to ancient times. It was here that mythical sirens were said to lure sailors with their beauty and lilting voices, causing boats to be shipwrecked onto the rocks. More recently the islands have became famous for being once owned by Rudolf Nureyev, proving that not only was he a great ballet dancer, but also had a keen eye for breathtaking real estate.

As we approached Capri, I must admit to being slightly under whelmed. Despite its reputation as one of the playgrounds of the rich and famous, it provided nowhere near the same visual impact of Positano and other towns along the Amalfi coast. When I made this remark to Jules she reminded me that what I was actually looking at was the port and the real town of Capri was to be found high up in the hills above. The port itself was all that we were expecting with hordes of tourists and tacky souvenir shops. Queues seemed to be everywhere … for the funicular heading up the hill, for novel open-top taxis, for tiny buses that tour the island, for boat trips to the famed ‘Blue Grotto’ and for other boats heading back on the water to get away from all the chaos.

As recently experienced hikers, we thought that we might provide the exception to the rule by actually getting to the town of Capri by following the 20-minute walking trail that leads you up the hill. Amazingly, we were pretty much by ourselves! So by the time the other visitors below had reached the head of their queues, we were already there, a little puffed but fitter for the experience. Just as it was below, the town was very busy but to be fair, it was a whole lot nicer. There was clearly a touch of sophistication here with narrow alleys filled with quaint Italian buildings converted into all manner of high end shopping. Restaurants were abound, each proudly displaying photographs of the various high profile celebrities who had previously dined there. Considered to be somewhat of a fashion centre, Capri boasts an extensive range of boutiques for the style conscious, as long as you are prepared to wear either white, off white or a pale shade of beige as these colours seem to be the official uniform of the well healed.

Like many such places we have visited in the past, Capri had everything but seemed to lack something! It was like looking into a glossy picture book world that wasn’t quite real ... a little too manufactured for our liking. What we thought might suit us better would be the nearby Anacapri, only a short distance away. This is often unfairly considered to be the down market version of Capri and over the years has tended to live in the shadow of its more famous neighbor. So being a little too far to walk, we boarded a bus for one of the most hair raising 10 minute trips of our lives. With narrow winding roads traversing steep cliffs and with an almost vertical drop below, there were quite a few audible gasps from the passengers. It seemed that disaster was imminent with every turn, possibly resulting in a repeat of the final scene from the movie ‘The Italian Job’ … but somehow we made it!

Anacapri had a totally different atmosphere from where we had just been. It was much smaller, with far less crowds and was decidedly less pretentious. We sensed that in all the hype that revolved around Capri, such smaller towns had all but been forgotten, yet as a community they were desperately trying to jump on board the tourist bandwagon having seen its obvious economic benefits. It was quiet and gentle in comparison; an ideal place for a gelato and a pleasant stroll before heading back to the chaos of the port.

Indeed by the time we had made it back by late afternoon, the scene was even more manic than we had experienced earlier. Day-trippers such as us were by now all converging back to the boats and clambering to get themselves back to the mainland. So there was a slight sense of relief when our boat (much fuller than when we arrived) finally upped anchor and began to set sea bound for Positano. It had been an interesting and enjoyable visit, despite all the crowds. Jules and I were glad to have experienced Capri, as it is one of those much talked about places that we felt had to be seen. As we bounced along on the afternoon swell, holding our hats and admiring the coastal view as our boat pushed into the wind, we knew that this was one of those travel episodes that would remembered as much for the trip as the destination.

The Walk of the Gods

2013-07-28T11:09:00.000+09:00

I’m not sure whether it’s our recent desire to experience the great outdoors or the thought of those extra kilos we have put on while tasting the local cuisine, but Jules and I have found ourselves doing quite a bit of hiking of late. We are certainly not seasoned trail blazers by any means, but the challenge of a good climb, the possibility of some scenic views and the promise of a beer at the end is normally enough to get us interested. Such was the case when Jules suggested that we might like to tackle the much talked about trek from Positano (via Nocelle) to Bomerano, which goes by the intriguing title of ‘The Walk of the Gods’. Now, we have both been traveling long enough to be a little wary of grand titles given to certain walking trails … sometime the hype can overshadow the actual trek. However, as we had already experienced some of the breathtaking views from the cliff tops overlooking the Amalfi coast, we looked forward to this particular walk in anticipation of the amazing sights it might offer.

With seemingly endless days of 30+ degree temperatures, we knew that we would have to begin the walk quite early in the day … a feat easier said than done when you’ve slipped into holiday mode! However, with the mountains above Positano still in shadows, we began the initial climb to Nocelle. We had been warned that this part of the walk would possibly be the most testing, as it consisted of a very steep series of steps winding up the cliff face. Well, when I say a ‘series’ of steps, what I really mean is an ‘awful lot’ of steps! It was a few days later, with our muscles still feeling the pain, that we found out that the actual total number of steps covering the 400 metres upward was over 1700! It took us 45 minutes and was a very testing way to begin. So with a certain degree of satisfaction, we sat down for a minute in a small piazza in Nocello, guzzling water and looking back down toward Positano that sat far below.

Our initial plan for the 7 kilometre walk was to see how we felt after an hour or two and if the going was getting too tough, we would simply turn back, but having come this far we just knew we would have to press on. Although we weren’t right at the top of the mountain range we were pretty close, on a trail that seemed to thread its way along the very edge of its rocky ridges. Occasionally the track would dip back into dark leafy valleys then emerge once again to reveal spectacular views of the Amalfi coastline and beyond. Gradually we began to see more walkers, but they were all heading in the opposite direction than us! It seemed that they might have been more aware of those steps from Positano to Nocelle than we had been and had chosen for the more favorable down hill option to finish their journey rather than at the start.

As we pressed on, we came across the occasional deserted stone ‘rustico’ and wondered whether some folks might have been totally seduced by such an amazing outlook, only to forget about the problems associated with inaccessibility of the location. True, the views did seem to get better and better the further we progressed and we could well see the temptation to build up there. Even when the trail turned inland on the final stretch, we could see evidence of small dwellings carved into the cliff face itself, looking like something straight from the days of the ancient Aztecs. Those who had somehow managed to eke out an existence at these lofty heights had over the years carved staggered tiers into the hillsides on which grapes, olives, lemons and corn seemed happy to grow.

After four hours of walking and a little leg weary, Jules and I finally wandered into Bomerano. Unlike the tourist towns down by the coast, this was by comparison a sleepy little place. It was well into lunchtime by now and most of the businesses were closed. All was quiet except for a few old men sitting on chairs in the piazza, discussing life as Italian men do, while watching the young men set up what looked like a small performance stage for the evenings entertainment. Jules and I bypassed them all and headed straight to the pub to enjoy the coldest glass of Peroni Beer we could buy … boy, did it taste good! With drinks in hand we also took up a seat overlooking the piazza to observe the scene and to contemplate our hiking achievement.

As we savored our icy cold drinks, we observed other venturers preparing to tackle the trek in the reverse direction. By now the heat of the day had well and truly settled in and although we didn’t envy what they were about to physically endure, we knew that they would be amply rewarded for their efforts, as we had been for ours. ‘The Walk of the Gods’ had well and truly lived up to its grand name and reputation as one of Italy’s great walks. However, at this point we were more than happy to conveniently take the bus back to Positano where it had all began.

The Captain & The Coast of Amalfi

2013-07-26T02:14:00.000+09:00

With anticipation and a touch of car sickness, we finally arrived in Positano. It was so good to leave the grime and congestion of Naples behind us and to break out into the countryside to eventually catch sight of the spectacular coastline of the Amalfi coast. Even though the narrow winding roads had some effect on Jules’ stomach, she was more than pleased that getting there had gone so smoothly. The place she had chosen for us to stay was not in Positano itself, but sat high on the cliffs facing the picturesque township, so it appeared to us daily much as it does on countless post cards, only better!

It was of course the height of summer, so we were anticipating huge crowds when we eventually made it into town. However, to our surprise it was relatively quiet, as foreign and Italian visitors alike had by that time taken up their position on the neatly lined rows of sun beds along the beach and most of the charter boats had already set off for the day. So, while local restaurants prepared their tables for the lunch time trade and the local shops owners hung out there tourist tempting trinkets, Jules and I wandered around the narrow streets taking it all in. It is hard to imagine such a picturesque coastal spot, with pastel coloured buildings staggering their way up the cliffs to overlook the azure waters of the Mediterranean. Having provided a backdrop to such movies as ‘The Talented Mr. Ripley’ and ‘Under the Tuscan Sun’, Positano has developed a worldwide reputation as the place to visit to experience a true Italian summer.

With memories of driving the coastal roads still fresh in our minds, we decided that the only way to see the rest of the Amalfi coast was by water. So the next day we booked ourselves onto one of the many smaller charter boats that head down the coast daily for a touch of swimming, sightseeing, eating and drinking… all the ingredients for a perfect day! Our tiny wooden boat was captained by Salvatore, an old Italian seafarer who was as tanned as an old sandal and with a cheeky sense of humor that comes with having one of the best jobs in the world! As we chugged along the coast, Salvatore would regale us with tales about the various coastal features and significant buildings we were seeing along the way. When he wasn’t doing that, he was handing out drinks or entertaining us with his repertoire of classic Italian songs. When he sensed that we were getting a little hot, he would drop anchor at a picturesque spot so that we could cool off in the crystal clear waters. One of these stops was at a secret ‘grotto’ where we could swim inside a cave to view the jade green waters. This spot was nowhere near as famous as the ‘Blue Grotto’ on nearby Capri, but it also didn’t have the tourist traffic either, so we could totally enjoy the experience alone.

Although we had been slowly meandering down the coast, it was early afternoon by the time we reached the actual town of Amalfi. This was quite a bit larger than Positano with a harbour bustling with boats, coaches and cars transporting tourists to and from the various scenic spots surrounding this famous town. It all seemed a little too hectic for us and at that point we knew we had made the right choice in basing ourselves near Positano. Salvatore also thought it was a bit too busy and as he was starting to think about lunch, he chose to turn the boat around and head back a little way up the coast to a tiny spot called Santa Croce Beach. Here we would enjoy a wonderfully traditional Italian meal complete with enough courses to see most of our small band of fellow sailors strung out on the deck like beached whales for the return journey home.

Today’s lunch was indeed bigger than normal with the addition of yet another course to the menu compliments of Salvatore, who had managed to catch a large fish (around 3 foot long) earlier in the morning and had brought it to the chef to cook and share. While each course just kept on coming, Salvatore managed to pace himself nicely, after all he was used to such banquet meals, indulging in them almost daily. In between explaining various dishes, how to eat the large local lemons and introducing himself to fellow diners, he managed a few mouthfuls of each course, then nicely broke it up with a glass of vino. This probably explains why he was in such fine singing voice on the way home as he stood at the stern of the boat steering the rudder with his foot. He had clearly had yet another great day and so had we!

In Captain Salvatore’s little wooden boat we had experienced all that the Amalfi coast had to offer compacted into just one day. Through his conviviality, the scenery and the sea air (not to mention the food and wine) Jules and I had momentarily tasted ‘La Dolce Vita’ and I’ve got to say it wasn’t half bad! It may sound a little cliché, but there is something in this intoxicating mix that repeatedly entices Italians, foreigners and romantics of the world back here each summer.

On the Streets of Pompeii

2013-07-24T18:58:00.000+09:00

Touching down in Naples, Jules and I could see the hazy, yet unmistakable silhouette of Mt. Vesuvius looming large on the distant horizon. Below on the foothills that led down to the ocean there were thousands of houses and apartments of the city, whose comparative scale only further accentuated the overwhelming presence of the dormant volcano. Over the years the local population and the giant mountain have somehow managed to co-exist and despite the various eruptions recorded throughout history (the most recent being in 1944), the local Napolese have always returned to the area in the knowledge that such events were relatively few and far between. However, to see first hand the destruction caused by molten lava, ash and poisonous gases you need go no further than the cities most popular tourist attraction … Pompeii.

Jules had stretched the budget for a driver to take us from Naples to Positano and as we would be passing Pompeii along the way, we asked if we could make a small detour in order to visit this much celebrated archeological site. While we first imagined that the ancient Roman city would be well away from the major populated areas, we eventually discovered that it was actually just off the local freeway and surrounded by suburbs. However, once we had exited the motorway, the proliferation of concrete constructions quickly gave way to a large green belt that much better suited the type of environment that might have existed there over 3000 years ago.

Once we entered Pompeii itself and opened up our map, we began to appreciate the scale of the original city. We could see that in its day this was quite a place, complete with bustling streets, thriving businesses, venues for public gatherings and homes representing various status in Roman society. It seemed quite incredible that a township of this size could have been suddenly covered by metres of volcanic ash on that fateful day in 79 AD and then managed to lay totally undiscovered until the 1700’s. Even the name of the original city had almost been totally forgotten with the passing of time. Today, the archeological dig still continues, with only three quarters of the site excavated and several large areas remaining roped off to the public.

Jules and I had entered through the Porta Marina (the original town gate) and then worked our way up the hill toward the ancient city to eventually arrive at ‘The Forum’, which was once the spacious main square of Pompeii. From here we headed down the main street as Romans once did in ancient times. It was fascinating to still see the grooves and ruts worn into the flagstone road as a result of years of use by horse drawn chariots. We also noticed the large stepping-stones used by town’s folk to cross the street in order to avoid getting their sandals wet when the roads were regularly flooded.

With limited time we darted around to some of the most popular venues in town during Romans times. We were more than impressed with the Amphitheatre that once seated 20,000 people and the Great Theatre, where the greatest actors and entertainers of the day would have performed. As we sat high up in this semi-circled arena enjoying a cooling breeze, a couple of patriotic Canadian tourists stood in the centre of the stage and burst into their national anthem, proving to us all the amazing acoustic qualities of this space. Of more historical significance was that here was where emperor Julius Caesar was murdered by his Roman senators on the ‘Ides of March’ (March 15) in 44 BC, a date that would remain poignant throughout history and often quoted as a date to ‘beware’ in Shakespeare’s famous play.

While the hot sun continued to beat down on the ancient streets, we both wandered around and imagined what life might have been like during these times. A visit to the Bath House revealed some amazing architectural features and relief sculptures while the ‘House of the Faun’, (so named because of the bronze statue of a dancing faun found in a central water feature) provided an indication of how the more wealthy residents of the city might have lived in their day. Of course there were also several plaster cast remnants of some of the poor souls who lost their lives on that eventful day, further humanizing the impact of the great eruption.

In the end, we were not at all surprised that Pompeii remains one of the most visited archeological sites in the world. More than any textbook or museum, the ruins provided us with a wonderful insight into the daily life of regular people during those ancient times. While our stay was all too short, we had managed to cover quite a bit of ground although to be fair, even a full day wouldn’t have fully done it justice. There was so much that had managed to be preserved and so many small details to be discovered. These streets had witnessed such a tumultuous event, but through the devastation a unique time capsule had somehow been revealed.

Testament to the Power of a Volcano

2013-07-20T16:39:00.000+09:00

On my last blog post, I was mentioning ‘Jason and the Argonauts’ and their mythical connection to Santorini. Well, their story continues … after having quite an adventure searching for the ‘Golden Fleece’, our intrepid band of heroes apparently sailed past Thira (now Santorini) on their return journey, only to encounter a bronze giant known as Talos who stood on top of a mountain throwing giant rocks at passing ships in order to keep them away from his kingdom. Many historians have naturally drawn an analogy here with the violent volcanic eruptions that occurred on the island over 3600 years ago. By all accounts this must have been an apocalyptic event, with the devastation literally tearing the island apart and wiping out its Minoan inhabitants. There are also several theories that the Santorini eruption may have even caused the destruction of the legendary city of Atlantis.

Early into our visit, Jules and I had taken the bus to the archeological dig Akrotiri where an ancient Minoan village has been uncovered from around the time of the eruption. While it is nowhere near as large or as in tact as Pompeii, it is relatively well preserved and did give us some idea of what life might have been like before this catastrophic event. However, in order to get a real sense of what caused this devastation, we had to do no more than look across the water from our verandah to the baron looking island of Nea Kameni to see the remnants of the burnt out volcano. Not that its completely finished yet, because as recently as 1950 it has been providing small eruptions just to remind everyone that it is still a force.

So early one morning we boarded one of the many wooden boats that take visitors over to the desolate island to allow them to come as close as they dare to an active volcano. On our particular boat, there was a large contingent from Finland who I think were actually more interested in enjoying the sun, beer and swimming in the crystal clear waters than actually hiking up a steep hill to see a dormant volcano, but it was all part of their tour package so they were happy to go along. When we docked, what struck us immediately was the unearthly quality of the landscape. What looked from a distance to be scrubby spinifex, turned out to be piles of misshaped rocks that had obviously been a result of the volcano long ago. There was little in the way of plant life at all, so much so that if a film director wanted to produce a sci-fi movie set on a distant planet, here would be a very good place to start.

The trek to the highest point of the volcano was dry and dusty and while there was plenty of evidence of previous volcanic activity, there appeared to be very little happening today. Deep chasms of crumbling rock suggested the areas where the volcanic vents may lay, but for now we would just have to be satisfied with the desolate landscape the unnatural views provided. More tangible evidence could be found at the other side of the island with the promise of a swim in the hot springs that lay just off shore. This greatly excited our Finland friends who were the first to leap off the boat when we arrived. By the time I finally hopped in and headed toward the warm waters, I could see them already in the shallows, caking themselves from head to toe in volcanic mud amongst much laughter. The mud is apparently good for the skin, but to me it just gave them the appearance of having been covered in chocolate sauce, which I guess was part of the fun.

Reading some earlier background information about the volcanic eruption, it was claimed that its force was the equivalent of 1000 atomic bombs. While such an impact is almost unimaginable, the end result was that Santorini, which was originally one island, suddenly was split into several islands of various sizes. One of the largest pieces to detach itself became the island of Thirasia, which we could see quite clearly from our apartment verandah. With a resident population of around 200 people, it is quite an isolated existence, however what the locals do rely upon is the daily visit of tourists and so that would be our next destination. With the Fins finally cleaned up, back on board and happily sitting back with a beer in hand, we headed across the straight to the next island.

Thirasia is an idyllic little settlement with all the scenic benefits of its larger neighbours but without the noise of traffic or other problems that result from a larger population. Things here are pretty much as they have been for decades, with ‘mod-cons’ only slowly beginning to infiltrate their traditional existence. A few small open-air tavernas nestle along the coast with families selling all kinds of meat and fish dishes cooked over wood fire coals. While the folk from Finland were tucking into lunch, Jules and I decided to walk the shore to find a nice secluded spot for a swim. While the beaches consisted purely of washed pebbles, there were still plenty of nice spots off the rocks to experience the pristine waters of the bay. Later, we walked down to a small wooden platform overlooking the water where ‘Tony the Greek’ prepared us both the best souvlaki we had ever tasted.

Back on the boat late into the afternoon, everyone appeared relaxed and subdued. Whether it was the long lunch, the heat or the copious amount of beer drunk by our Finnish friends, there was a certain quietness that had not been there earlier. The afternoon breezes had picked up as we held onto our hats and sailed on to the village Oia on the main island. Here a few of us would get off to enjoy the setting sun while others including group from Finland would head back to Fira. As we climbed the steep steps to the town, it was tempting to call on the services of a donkey as many seem to do but Jules is more principled than that and simply wouldn’t expect an animal to do something that she couldn’t do for herself, so we pressed on. When we finally reached the top, we could see our little wooden ship heading off into the distance against the backdrop of the two islands we had visited. Both of these islands had been born through the violent power of nature, but what had been created remained truly unique. It had been an enlightening and enjoyable day and in the end we both felt that it was somehow testament to Santorini that such a major volcanic eruption could not destroy its rugged beauty.