Let The Honeymoon Commence....!

Oh.  That's right.  We'll be sharing a bedroom with our two small children for the next 6 weeks.

I did something I’m ashamed of.  Actually more to the point, I did something that I’m ashamed of, because I know it's bad, I loved doing it, I loved the effects, and I will be sure to do it again.  But before I confess, let me explain the circumstances……Briefly.  Let’s start with the post-wedding comedown, which included major house pack up, scramble to see all my beloveds, stuff storage, final dinners, and final goodbyes.  Flight to Melbourne, more beloved-seeing scrambles, late night dinner, repacking and re-storage….and finally……a 9 hour overnight flight to Japan, via a 2 hour stop-over in Sydney (10.30pm departure from there).  Very crowed flight = no chance of blocking off the surrounding seats to lie grumbling 3 years olds down for 3 hours sleep (if we’re lucky).  This is the usually the best we’d be able to hope for.  Because, usually, by the time the ridiculous 11.30pm meal is finished, and following the promised viewing of the plane movies they always get in a tizzy about (piss OFF Happy Feet Two….stupid little dancing penguin idiot); it would take us to about about 1am.  And, of course, even at this rude hour, the bloody economy cabin lights would still not be dimmed.  All this would typically result in two little girls with a serious case of the "over-tireds" and therefore even less chance of them going to sleep. Crap.  Sux.  Shithouse.

Hello my little darling

This visit, we had a 6am arrival (Japan time) to contend with, and of course had no chance of checking in at our hotel until mid/late afternoon.  Plus, we had a full day of snow gear buying ahead of us.  All great of course - but tricky with the midgets at the very best of times.  All of that realisation about the anticipated hell of day 1 of our "honeymoon" was starting to collect into a bitter taste in my mouth.  Plus, I was already one exhausted individual.  Until I had a brilliant plan.  That genius idea was to drug my daughters, and thus myself.  It was the first time (for them that is, I’m no stranger to better living through chemical enhancement on long flights - I just can't do it much these days in case the kids break into the cockpit while I'm on the nod).  Anyway, it worked like a charm.  On them I used a child-friendly anti-histamine.  Sweet little Phenergan – friend to many parents - including my own so I hear, the 70s was Phenergen's heyday.  Watch out though baby owners, you can’t use it in the under twos (bring on that breakfast dose on their 2nd birthday though).  Also, it can go the opposite way and make your offspring hyperactive instead of drowsy.  Now THAT would be bad on an over-nighter.  On mine, however, it lived up to the hype.   When things began to look promising, I pumped a Xanax into me.  Again, what a pleasure.  All three of us nodded off just as the plane took off.  Slumped at awkward angles in our upright prick of a seats; seats that would normally produce a long flight of interrupted sleep, sore necks, that annoying jerking thing that happens that wakes you up in terror.  Naturally they'd be plenty of howling, whinging, bitchin’, and finally red wine consolation (and that's just from me).  Not this time.  None of that nonesense.  We dozed and frolicked in our pleasant dreams all the way to Tokyo, where we woke refreshed and ready for an active day in the big city.

There she blows......

The old hood

God knows what's inside, but they sure look cute

Chalky said he felt sick to his soul to see me dish out the doping meds (whatevs Mr Perfect) – but I bet that feeling became obsolete, when he got to watch Argo without any whinging or nagging, and chow down in peace without a slimy paw slipping into pinch his ice cream (I love ice cream).…..So, in absolutely brilliant moods, the four of us got off our flight, amidst the red eyes and shitty attitudes of our fellow travellers,  to see the red morning sun of Japan slowing ascending over the hills.  How very symbolic for our touch-down in the land of the rising sun.

Very nice indeed

I was elated!! We were back!! Konichifuckingwa everybody!!!!  A couple of hours, and a bus and taxi ride later, we arrived at our hotel in Tokyo.  Only for a bag drop.  The front desk seated us in their executive lounge (whose morning tranquillity we destroyed in one vile swoop), and apologised profusely that we were not able to check-in. Stop grovelling love, it's unbecoming..... We were offered, however, an immediate check-in option.  We could pay an extra three and a half thousand dollars and go directly to the president’s suite.  What a tempting offer. And not to mention, an incredible bargain.  The fact that they suggested it in all seriousness is one of the funny things about Japan.  They didn’t give a shit we looked like refugees, or were all sporting bad cases of halitosis.  They really though that perhaps an upgrade of that calibre was really what we might have liked, and budgeted for.  I should have asked to at least view it.  Lets face it, it would have been the closest I would ever get to the presidential suite.  But then of course, seeing it would make me despise our real room we would be of course forced to occupy following the presidential tease.  It was a no win situation really.

Love a bit of city + kimono

Just in case you wonder if the shop in the background is indeed "Almond".....

Tokyo Architecture at it's finest - I actually once taught English here

So anyway, we told them to shove off, and instead spent part of our presidential budget on shopping for a fair amount of snow equipment.  We felt superior.  The prices are easily a quarter of Australia – many, many bargains to be had in a large district of Tokyo devoted entirely to ski and snowboard shops.  The main thing I was happy about, was getting new snowboarding pants.  I seriously nearly gave myself my own version of genital mutilation whenever I bent down to do up my bindings last year.  At least I’d have one aspect sorted if I ever thought about conversion to the Islamic faith.

Always time for everybody's favourite!

Good old Shinkasen desu 

It was a one night Tokyo affair though – the next day it was pack ‘em up, mooooooovvvveeee ‘em out (to borrow Alex’s favourite quote).  But first, there were a few issues actually getting on our train.  We had given ourselves quite a bit of time to get to the train station located right next to the hotel.  However, we didn’t count on the complete balls-up the bellboys were responsible for, in regarding moving our bags from room to lobby.  Strangely, they seemed to have lost them, that part was unclear though.  Thirty minutes to get a few bags in the elevator when the pressure was on seemed a bit of a bold move.  What was clear however, was that Chalks, myself, the girls, and an apologetic bellhop, ended up sprinting for our lives, through Maranouchi station, and just managed to squeeze (with thirty seconds to spare), onto our Shinkansen bound for Iwate prefecture.  Even though my husband! (first time in this blog everyone, first time….) nearly suffered a heart attack from sprinting up several flights of stairs, through corridors and along the train platform carrying his own gear, there was another person who attracted more of my sympathy.  The unfortunate bellboy was carrying all of my luggage.  This included my 30kg suitcase, my snowboard bag - bursting with not only my own equipment, but also the girls new skis, helmets etc, AND an extremely heavy and giant shoulder bag filled with books, my computer, toys and other assorted accessories.  The poor prick.

Toshihara in crocheted bunny form

His poor, golden, shiny nametag lay twisted on the ground beside him.  His scarlet red face ran wet with an intense sweat.  His heavy breathing indicated serious lung fuck, and on top of all of this, he had to endure wearing a really stupid looking uniform.  The worst was the hat with the gold tassel hanging off the side.  How he didn’t lose that ridiculous item on the fourth flight of stairs I’ll never know.  As he desperately tried to pass Chalks my bags before the train doors trapped him in their metal grip, he had to offer the required series of Japanese overdone apologies: “Please Mr Korman, I’m so sorry Sir, this will never happen again, please forgive me, it was a terrible mistake, please come back and stay at the Shangri-La again Sir, I promise you will have a much better experience, Sir……I’m soooooooo......  The doors finally slammed shut.  As the Shinkansen pulled away, I could still see the ruined dude bowing like a maniac, and mouthing more and more sorrys.  Hopefully we would never see him again.  Sometimes the submissiveness thing is uncomfortable.  I want it to stop, but it keeps going and going……It’s effective though.  No complaints about Toshihara from us.  Hope he got his nametag fixed before his boss saw it…..that’s the kind of thing that results in a sacking.

A few hours later we arrived in Appi “King of Snow”.  Although, it wasn’t as smooth as that.  Cut to an image of me swearing my head off in the dark, slipping around like an idiot, trying to drag an unwieldy suitcase across a frozen icy train platform, in a poor attempt to get to a waiting shuttle bus, with the snowboard bag on my back.  A bag so heavy that it was seriously disrupting my balance.  Meanwhile, the kids were face down in a high mound of dirty snow having quite the feast.  At that moment I wondered why we weren’t lying on a beach in Thailand ordering mojitos.  But back to Appi, The Snow King.   Like many resorts in Japan, it would have been totally cutting edge when it was built in the 80s.  Now, it just seems a little dated and unfortunate.  Whatevs, if the snow is good, the beer is cold and the little druggies are palmed off, we’ll take it…..plus, there must be somewhere I can get a mojito……too early 2000s though??? Maybe a 'white russian' then, or a 'sex-on-the-beach'.......Come to think of it, Cocktail itself, staring old Tommy Boy is probably promoted as a latest Hollywood blockbuster here. Is it time to reminisce with that classic yet?  It couldn't be worse than it was in 1988 could it????

Happy to be in Appi