Far have I wandered and much have I seen......

Far have I travelled and much have I seen......

I fear I have neglected you once again; my updates have been lacking- well, not only lacking, but completely non-existent.  I am sorry, and I wish I could give you a reasonable excuse or valid reason for my lack of words on this blog/diary/journal/thingymabob, but I can’t.  There is no excuse other than living life, forgetting to turn on the laptop, not having too much to say. Although those last six words are not really true, for in Tokyo I had experienced several earthquakes and storms, then I packed up my bags and headed off to Sydney, Australia for three weeks, and currently you find me at the start of the third of three weeks in Melbourne.

I’m not sure where to go and what to say first, other than it’s been a blast travelling around.  You could say this is like a geriatric gap year, and rather than dossing down in hotels, dorms and the like, I’m staying in apartments and hotels. Currently, I’m on the 16th floor of an apartment building in the Southbank area of Melbourne, with views over South Melbourne, Albert Park (where the really fast Grand Prix F1 cars go round and round), St Kilda and, in the far distance, a place with the familiar name, Brighton.  Of course, if I cast my eyes a little right, I can see Port Melbourne, Hobsons Bay that opens up into one of the biggest bays I’ve ever seen, the name of which I think is Port Phillip. 

Over there, somewhere, beyond my eye’s view is the town of St Leonards and the narrow opening of the bay, according to the locals, is called The Rip and is less than two miles wide and beyond that is the Bass Strait, Tasmania and the rest of the world!

Although, if you’ve read this far,  you’ll already have seen the photos of how vast the view is, both in the daytime and when the night falls and the lights twinkle in the distance. So, I’m sorry you’ve had to endure this word salad just to get to this part.

The reason I jumped out of Tokyo was twofold: first, the immigration person at the monolithic X-shaped building that houses the Regional Immigration Bureau would only extend my tourist visa for another 30 days. Secondly, I was looking to escape the notoriously hot and humid summer weather where temperatures regularly soar into the mid to high 30s.  Thus, I gave up the rental on my riverside Sumida apartment and headed on a Japan Airlines Boeing 777 to a land down under where women glow, and men plunder!

A 1998 vintage me!

It isn’t the first time I’ve been in the land of the kangaroo and wombat; no, I was first here, albeit briefly, in September 1998 as part of a round-the-world trip in little over three weeks!  Ha, Phileas Fogg took 79 days to complete his circumnavigation of the globe whilst I did it in 24! Ok, I cheated a little and flew by aeroplane, but have you ever tried getting a ship from Gatwick to Los Angeles? Goodness, 1998, that was so long ago and whilst a few things like walking on Four Mile Beach at midnight, nearly falling off the concrete seat/barrier outside Sydney Opera House and buying a collector's edition of Titanic complete with a few frames of the original actual film are as clear as if they occurred a week last Wednesday. The bulk of the memories have long since been consigned to the waste-bin of my mind. Of course there have been generations of changes in those 28 years; therefore, it is like coming to a nation for the very first time, with just occasionally a whisper of deja-vu echoing in the darkest recesses of my noggin.

    

Feelings of familiarity abound when visiting Circular Quay, the goings and comings of the famous ferries, still in the same old green and cream colour scheme of old, although I do have a vague impression they were for a brief moment blue and white vessels. The Harbour Bridge and the big shells or sails of the Danish architect Jørn Utzon-designed Opera House don’t change, and emotions of visiting old friends cross the minds of nearly every tourist, so often have we seen these icons of Australia. Yet, despite the countless times on computer and television screens and printed in newspapers, they still seem much bigger in reality as opposed to in the mind's eye.

Is she coming or going?  With two bows, it is hard to tell.

Darling Harbour, like the city itself, seems a little more developed; many more skyscrapers or tower blocks vie for attention and dominance. Gone is the monorail that seemed so modern all those years ago, although the remnants of one or two stations still linger. Yet, if you let your eyes search, mixed among the modern developments you'll find traditional functionaries including Queen Victoria Building or QVB as it's known these days. Its classic splendour remains timeless to some, but for some reason, insides reminded me of the Grace Brothers department store of the 70s comic telly programme – Are You Being Served! 

ANZAC War Memorial  Photo Jason Shaw

St Mary’s Cathedral just down the road from the grammar school and the 1880s Town Hall are pleasing to the eye. If you like Italian Renaissance Style as seen by the Victorians, then you’d want to have a look at the old post office building with its tall clock tower and delightful arches. The State Library is also an impressive sight and calmed my mind each time I walked past, as did the similar-looking New South Wales Art Gallery. Although the building I saw most was less habitation- or retail-focused, the impressive ANZAC War Memorial at the top of Hyde Park. Quite often I’d plonk myself on a nearby bench and ponder the futility of war, the lives of the soldiers of the antipodean this 1930s-constructed Art-Deco mausoleum commemorates, the adorning sculptures' significance and, when they weren’t doing work outside, the oasis of peace in a busy city.

Hyde Park and the Botanic Gardens were my favourite places to walk, contemplate, picnic and just enjoy the experience of being, although I did rather also like strolling down Oxford Street, heading all the way to Centennial Park, where rest and snacks were in order, before heading up Ocean Street and back via Rushcutters Park. I was warned that Kings Cross could be a bit of an adventure to go through, but I didn’t encounter any problems; indeed it felt a darn sight more friendly and safe than parts of its London namesake!. However, I did notice the area had more than its fair share of people with either alcohol or mental health issues on the street. Perhaps no more so than London or Paris, yet here they were more noticeable, or maybe I was just looking around more than I usually do. Another thing I couldn't help but notice was the sheer number of homeless or street folk that exist here. Especially around the court building, or outside the high-end stores, you'll spot them and their sacks of belongings and bags of sleeping. Some selling copies of Big Issue, some just with signs detailing their plight, others just asking for a couple of dollars from the passers-by that pretend not to see them. 

Lazy afternoons on the bank of the Parramatta River   Photo Jason Shaw

Parramatta lies at the end of ferry route F3 along the river of the same name and just over one hour and twenty minutes away from Circular Quay, and I so enjoyed this ride that I did it again. Well, in fact I did it a further three times, to be exact, once on the way back that day and a return trip a couple of days later. There’s something rather soothing about travelling up (and down) a river that you don’t get on a sea cruise or journey. The gentle ripple of the water, the occasional wake of other vessels to sway the senses as well as the hull, the passing scenery on the banks as we glide along aboard a Parramatta River-class catamaran ferry with a top speed of almost thirty miles an hour. Oh, the joy of not having to rush anywhere and enjoying a desirously leisurely ride in the mild mid-winter morning. Yes, it may be late July, but over on this hemisphere, the seasons are the opposite to back home, and now it's winter here.

Remembering the moment just now has put me in mind of my fondness and spatial arrangement for open water that seems to have been fairly content since my mid-twenties, perhaps even before. I suppose as a child, I lived near two big lakes, which were a treat to go to on the long hot summers of my youth. There were one lower and one upper lake, with the latter having rowing boats to hire for a while in clement weather. I have no idea how much they cost, nor how long a time period you got for your cash; I just know when we did, I loved being on the lake, surrounded by water or circumnavigating the island that seemed like a wilderness land of dreams and monsters. Oh, the things we think of when we’re six, seven or eight, where the magic and wonderment of the everyday experience is still held with such precious naïveté, where almost anything is possible. Back then, the lakes formed part of an epic amount of land, a common area, where one could run, and the imagination could flourish with wild abandon. Of course, looking with today’s eyes, it is some 200 acres of nature reserve. Or as Natural England will tell you, it is a combination of various “habitats including two large lakes, a number of smaller ponds, wetland corridors, scattered trees and woodland and semi-improved grassland which includes the nationally rare plant Chamomile. Animal species seen on the Common include Roe deer, rabbits and foxes. The site is also important for bats, birds and many species of insects.”   To me then, as a youngster, it seemed like a whole different world. To me now, it is a memory of a different life, a time too long ago to fully remember and yet not far enough to completely forget. 

Yes, perhaps it is those early days near those two lakes that started an accidental, unconscious desire to live or be near the open water. Over the years, I’ve lived in Brighton, Portslade, Fort Lauderdale and Hastings, all of which are on the coast, and whenever I’ve travelled, it has been to places that are either by the sea or have a river running through them. That’s true, only if you forget a very brief interlude in landlocked Southern Illinois, which was about 700 miles from the nearest coast. Although having just written that, Crab Orchard Lake was nearby, which, despite what its cute little name suggests, is actually a massive 6,965-acre reservoir, and that’s just part of the rather gargantuan 43,890-acre wildlife refuge of the same name (yes, without the lake bit!)

Brightly painted beach huts at Brighton Beach in Victoria, Australia.  Photo Jason Shaw

Even on this trip, I am or have been near the ocean or river; in Tokyo it was both, living along the Sumida River, which flows into Tokyo Bay, that in turn enters the Uraga Channel and on to the Pacific Ocean. In Sydney I was near the harbour and spent much of the time crossing it to Manly, Parramatta, Mosman Bay, McMahon’s Point,  Watsons Bay and so on. Here in Melbourne, I’ve been in a hotel room overlooking the Yarra River and now enjoying an apartment with far-reaching views over Port Phillip Bay. Yesterday, I walked mostly along the edge of the bay to the resorts of St Kilda, Elwood and Brighton, with their golden beaches and gentle lapping waves. Next stop is Brisbane, and will there be a water connection there?  I guess you'll have to return here in a week and see if A) there is and B)  I've remembered to write a diary entry for it!

Toodle pip!

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Typhoon number 6 Jangmi

During the last day or two of May and the first couple of days in June, Typhoon number 6, called Jangmi, blew its way here, causing record-breaking rainfall, flooding, and quite a lot of disruption in many areas of Japan.

Morning world....here comes Jangmi.  Photo Jason Shaw

Jangmi, a Koren girls name which translates to Rose, a somewhat benign name for a storm that was anythng but. It affected Okinawa, Kyushu, Shikoku, and western Japan. According to the local news channels, it was a particularly powerful Typhoon, with strong winds, around 126 kph with gusts up to 180 kph, that's 78 and 112 mph! Travel was widely disrupted, some 524 domestic and 92 international flights were cancelled and numerous train services either halted or delayed.

Typhoon number six whilst having a morning cuppa.

The storm produced record rainfall in a number of regions, and there was some flooding and damage. According to News on Japan, 1.6 million people in the Tokyo metropolitan area were affected by official warnings; indeed, some parts of the city had Tokyo’s first-ever Purple Level 4 (Urgent warning - all residents should evacuate from affected area, when or before Evacuation Instruction is issued). The area where my apartment is located, just across the river from Chuo City, four streets away from Sumida City, Koto was in a level 3 warning area, but I had no plans to go out.  The day before, I'd purchased enough food and supplies for three days, including food that didn't need to be cooked or heated up in case of power outages. I've lived through the so called great storm of '87 in the UK, a Super Derencho in Illinois, USA in 2009, a 7.9 eartquake in December last year whilst enjoying my first visit to this fine country. Yet, I'd never been through a Typhoon, so I wasn't quite sure what to expect.

Even during a typhoon the expressway is busy  Photo Jason Shaw

  

Opps,  I went out on the balcony in my slippers, I'm so naughty!

and wind was the answer, a rather lot of each and then a wee bit more of both and guess what, even when I thought it was over a whole lot more came from the skies. As the day passed into afternoon, the typhoon had moved up and venturing out, I was greeted by a surprisingly pleasent early evening. In fact, if you'd been asleep all day and just came out after 17:00 you'd be forgiven for thinking nothing but a brief shower had occured. 

Sumida River - the calm after the storm.  Photo Jason Shaw

A poets view, a perch up high, refreshed anew, water drips from the sky  Photo Jason Shaw

In the olden days you could see Mount Fuji from that bridge. Photo Jason Shaw

The river seems high, the cloud breaks. Photo Jason Shaw

A ripple of light is a right good sight on a cloudy day.  Photo Jason Shaw

Eitai Bridge over the Sumida River. Photo Jason Shaw

The typhoon is blowing away as the skies clear.  Photo Jason Shaw

Watching the clouds pass  Photo Jason Shaw

You'd hardly believe more than 7 inches of rain had fallen in 24 hours.  Photo Jason Shaw

Its almost sunset time.  Photo Jason Shaw

Can you see the bird?  Photo Jason Shaw

Clouds and dreams. Photo Jason Shaw

A view to the back side of the departing Jangmi.  Photo Jason Shaw

That's all for today..... Copyright © 2026 Seafront Media

Lets take a walk and go and get lost

Walking, walking and more walking.

One of the main activities of my time in Tokyo has been walking. I’ve walked to Ginza, to Asakusa, to Akihabara, to Ojima, to Kachidoki, to Shimbashi, to Shiomi and all places in-between. I’ve not quite made it to Minato City for Tokyo Tower or Edogawa for Arakawa River yet, but who knows, maybe next week I’ll venture that far out.

Keeping fit is one of the reasons for me electing to use my own two legs as my main method of transport, rather than the epically proportioned rail and subway networks of Tokyo. The other, and perhaps, the main reason, could be called sightseeing, although for me it is slightly more a case of seeing life going on around me, rather than spotting typical tourist sights, which sightseeing usually conveys. My eyes are sweeping along the various streets, roads and avenues, my feet are walking down. I’m gazing up the restaurants offering a multitude of cuisines, many displaying pictures of meals served. I see the stores selling household supplies are commonplace, whereas clothes retailers tend to be mainly in the shopping centres. Another, conceivably surprising addition to the Tokyo scene is the proliferation of European-style bakeries making a variety of cakes and pastries at high prices, which are popular with the well-heeled ladies of the city, especially at the weekends. The queue outside my local one is always nine or ten deep of fragrant ladies under parasols.

I enjoy walking off the main thoroughfares just as much, down those narrower streets, where houses are cheek by jowl, where pavements are just differentiated from the highway by a white line. One of the charms of these less busy streets is the remarkably different styles of architecture that complement each other. There are funky new apartment blocks, next to vintage machiya - small, mostly wooden town houses, just over the road from an abode that looks somewhat like an akiya (old vacant property).  Then, just when you least expect it is a shrine, complete with banners, stone animals and an ink stamp in a box. You might think it is someone's drive, but if you look carefully, you’ll often find that shadowy uneven ground is actually an entrance to a small but peaceful park.

Over the last few days, I’ve spent a lot of time walking down streets like that. I’ve gone out with just a phone, a packet of Polos and a plan of having no plan! I left the mobile internet Wi-Fi thingamabob behind as I didn’t want to rely on Google Maps or other such location-finder apps to influence my wandering. I don’t have mobile internet on my phone – well, I do, but I can’t afford to use it on my current plan whilst in Japan! Plus, if it didn’t have a pedometer and audiobook app on my phone, I’d have left it on the side in my apartment as well. For more than seven hours over the last three days, I’ve wandered about freely, deciding which direction to turn at every crossroads only when I get to it, and happily getting lost. Every now and then, I can honestly say that getting lost is the most fun.  I advise you to do it, no, really, go and get lost sometime this week!

That's all for today..... Copyright © 2026 Seafront Media

Insomnia in the city.....

Insomnia and me are no strangers, indeed, you might say we are old friends, we’ve been acquainted since I was a sulky schoolboy in sleepy Surrey. For me, it comes and goes; it arrives unannounced, stays around for a week or so before it pops off again. There is no way I can tell when this old mate will show up, stomping about in my head, throwing things hither and dither and generally being annoying.

Shin-Ohashi Bridge as dusk is just about to fall.

I had regular bouts as a teenager and during college, then he disappeared for a long while before coming back in my late twenties. I don’t remember him visiting during my thirties, although, if I’m completely honest, I can actually recall a lot of details about those years.  I didn’t have many periods in my forties, although working twelve-hour night shifts on a four-on, four-off basis plays hell with the normal sleep pattern anyway. After I stopped earning a crust in the darkest hours before and just a tingly bit after dawn, I’ve had regular periods of sleepless nights. Usually it is when my world turns upside down, and daytime seems sleepy bye-byes time, and at night, it's wakey wakey after midnight.  Sometimes there have been reasons for it, job stress, end of relationships, death, illness and that sort of malarkey and other times, there seems to be no reason, none at all.

For the last few nights, he’s been back, the first time since I’ve been in Japan and about as welcome as a glass of Andrews Liver Salts when you’ve got the trots!.  Actually, yesterday that was also the case, I had both a sleepless night and a butt that was almost permanently on the heated seat of my class A loo.  The tummy trouble was, I’m pretty sure, due to consuming four cans of a ‘sugar-free’ alcoholic beverage as well as polishing off a tube of ‘sugar-free’ mints. Accidentally overdosing on sorbitol can have a laxative effect; well, it certainly does on me, as yesterday can attest to.

Clear skies and gentle breezes

I did manage to head to the supermarkets today for a stock up and also a walk around the neighbourhood.  I enjoyed a lunch on the river terrace watching the boats go up and down the river, and after returning home, I sat on the balcony and again watched boats go down and up the river, until the sun started to set.

Now, as the clock ticks onwards to midnight, my mind is not in the least bit sleepy and is racing away to various subjects and topics. Indeed in the last twenty-four minutes, I’ve contemplated buying a new camera, which shop to get the tax refunded, potatoes ‘n’ mint with the possibility of growing one or the other or both on the balcony, where to buy a bag of compost, can kiwis fly, how many steps it is to the nearest vending machine that takes IC cards, what liquid refreshment to have next!

So, as the week rapidly races to its end, this sleepy insomniac is wondering if he should go for a walk before midnight to tire even further achy bones to encourage sleep to arrive before four in the morning. Or stand on the balcony and watch the last of the river traffic heading back to its mooring while I wait for the timely dew of sleep, falling with soft slumbrous weight, inclines my eyelids!

Pretty hydrangeas and other lovely flowers offer food for the soul.

Matsuo Basho keeps a lookout up the river. On a clear day, in days of old, you can see Mount Fuji

Who can say what dreams were made this day?

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A world of history is just around the corner.....Matsuo Basho

Less than a thousand steps from my apartment building is a memorial garden, a shrine and a museum all dedicated to Matsuo Basho, a leading haiku poet of the Edo period.

The small shrine on the site, which is believed to be the place where Matsuo Basho's hut was.

I’m not an expert, but from what I gather, this chap was about as famous as you can get, back in those times, which is the mid to late 1600s during the Edo period. Now, legend has it that in 1680, Basho abandoned life as a priest, moved from Nihonbashi in Edo to a thatched tiny house, or hermitage as they are called, in Fukagawa.

He used this hermitage as a base and concentrated on creating haikai, a form of linked Japanese verse, drawing his inspiration from a wide variety of subjects, including those he saw around him. He also wrote several travelogues, such as 'Oku no Hosomichi ‘ (‘The Narrow Road to the Deep North’), following a journey of some 1500 miles during the spring of 1689.  Oku no Hosomichi starts off:

“The months and days are the travellers of forever. The years that come and go are also voyagers. Those who float away their lives on ships or who grow old leading horses are forever journeying, and their homes are wherever their travels take them. Many of the men of old died on the road, and I, too, for years past, have been stirred by the sight of a solitary cloud drifting with the wind to ceaseless thoughts of roaming.”

He may have taken up to five years to write, rewrite and rework it, but all that effort was well worth it, for even to this day it is considered to be one of his best-known works and part of the reason his legacy lives on. Basho is also revered for playing quite a major role in developing the modern haiku.

Climb the stone steps for a wonderful view and a tiny memorial garden.

His thatched cottage or hermitage was called 'Basho-an' because it became overgrown with banana plants gifted by his disciples or followers, although, I suppose in today's parlance, we'd call them fans. After Basho's death, it was incorporated into the samurai residence and preserved, but it disappeared between the late Edo and Meiji periods. However, whilst the exact location may not be known for sure, there is a sweet little shrine on what may have been its approximate location, and it's just around the corner from both the memorial garden and the museum. The museum was opened on 19th April 1981 on the site of Basho-no-Ō Old Pond, where his cherished stone frog had been found following a typhoon back in 1917. Another of his famous works is this little haiku:  “An ancient pond - a frog jumps in - the splash of water

Basho left Edo for the last time in the summer of 1694, enjoying some time in Ueno and Kyoto before arriving in Osaka. Unfortunately, he became unwell with some form of stomach complaint and, with his disciples around him, he passed away in November, aged 49 or 50. His last poem offered a farewell to his followers.

“falling sick on a journey - my dream goes wandering - on a withered field.”

It is amazing what is hidden just around the corner. By looking around, you can open up your eyes to new sights and your mind to new experiences. 

Local legend has it that the statue moves at night!

Can you see the fish?

Looking upriver to the Shin-Ohashi Bridge and the memorial garden just in the right corner

More info on the museum:

Basho Memorial Museum | Koto Ward Cultural Community Foundation

Take a stroll around Koto city using a restored old map from the Edo period. 

Kase Map 'Koto Ward Revitalised Old Map' Service Launched | Fukagawa Edo Museum | Koto Ward Cultural Community Foundation

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