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, or 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, which 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 the 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 who 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 are selling copies of Big Issue, some are just with signs detailing their plight, and others are just asking for a couple of dollars from the passers-by who 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 is 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 on 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 constant 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, when the magic and wonderment of the everyday experience is still held with such precious naïveté, when 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, which 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!

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

Reflection on a day of aimless direction

The day has been marked by showers, drenching the city and then relenting for a peaceful while before attacking the weary traveller. An informative weather pixie might tell you the temperature was 24c, but that just demonstrates that you should never trust a pixie! It has not climbed out of the teens; indeed, it hardly climbed into them, achieving only 13 according to the funny mam on the telly!

My first thought was not where to go today, but to make sure I had my wooly hat and waterproof jacket with me, for need them, I would. (And did!) Much like most of my exploration of Sydney thus far, plans I had none, desires few and needs even less. So I just ambled along, taking each corner as it came, deciding then and there if it was right or left or as the case may be, straight on!

I'm not sure I'm alone in this theory, but quite often, getting lost is more fun than knowing where you are. It was something only relatively new to me, something I found out last year in Japan, when I turned off the electronic devices and just wandered around without a destination or care in mind. I saw and experienced more that day than most of my other 'well-scheduled' explorations. Maybe one day I'll tell you about them!

Today was one such day, going hither and thither and that way and this, although it is actually quite hard to get yourself lost in a city where you can read the road signs and have clearly defined and visible landmarks. You try it, go on, I dare you! 

I started at the ANZAC War Memorial, with its cascading water steps and pools of reflection for reflection and marveled at the height of each splash that gave off an optical illusion in the right light of water climbing back up, rather than tumbling down. I must have looked like a right fool, trying to get a photo of the aforementioned effect, but I've long since learnt to care less about what others think of me. Perhaps if I had a better camera, or I were a better photographer, I'd be able to share with you the beautiful sight my eyes beheld, rather than just writing about it. Oh well, I don't have, and I'm not, so words, you will just have to make do with. 

I tried to lose myself, but simply found a different and oddly shorter way to Darling Harbour, which was pleasing nonetheless. If I'm being thoughtful, I'll try to look at different things, or from different positions, for it can be quite remarkable what differences your eyes will see in familiar places when viewed from a different angle. Try it, walk on the other side of the street on your way home, and see if I'm not wrong. 

I might have walked further into the hills beyond Darling Harbour; however, my feet were aching, or rather, just the right one, with the plantar fasciitis, so I needed to rest up for a bit. 

I watched the people for a while, the way one does when one has too much time on one's hands. I wonder how many 'ones' I can write in a sentence before it stops making any sense? Perhaps that was enough, or perhaps before the fullness of time, your eyes will chance upon another string of words piled together with a singular aim of beating three!

Rested for a bit, I did, walked for a bit I did next, and before I knew it, I was near the old strange music house again, or hus as it would be in Danish. Odd how that happens. 

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

Sometimes sport gets in the way of sleep, other times sleep gets in the way of sport. England v Mexico

I am, I confess, jolly tired today; I have been so ever since I woke up and will be so until my head hits the pillow again for slumber's sweet refrain to collect me from reality.

The reason for my lack of energy is due to sport!  Yes, sport. That may have surprised you, but I stayed up late to watch the British Grand Prix, back in dear old Blighty.  I then got up early to watch the England football match in the World Cup, all the way from America.  It was a good match, and Mexico played well, I thought, although not as well as 'our boys' as the score line can testify. Kane and Bellingham did the necessary for England, and Jimenez and some chaps whose names I've forgotten scored for Mexico. 

The rest of the day was filled with doing a celebratory jig in the bathroom, a wander to Circular Quay, a nip round to Darling Harbour, a saunter to the Maritime Museum, and watching two big cruise ships in different places in the harbour. 

It was another damp and somewhat chilly day, the temperature struggled to climb to 14 degrees, and had I not known it was winter downunder, I would surely have been disappointed. When one thinks of Australia, one mostly thinks of long hot days of golden sun, frolicking on the beach, and Neighbours! One doesn't usually think of seasons much like ours, just the wrong way round. Or, maybe you do, maybe when someone says Australia to you, the first thing that jumps into your noggin is cold winters and a climate similar to Italy!

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

The furthest you can go and walking in the rain.

It's been a cold day here in Sydney, just reaching around 14c on the old thermometer thingamajig. There were quite a few police units around the city when I went for a walk earlier today. Apparently, according to the news, the Prime Minister was in town today for the Labour Party conference. I'm rather shocked and perhaps saddened to admit that I had to look up who the Prime Minister of Australia was. I'm usually so good at those sorts of things, but I guess I missed the appointment of Anthony Albanese, who has been in said job since May 2022. I remember some of the previous incumbents of that position, including: anglophobic Malcolm Turnbull, ineffectual Tony Abbott, the first female PM, Julia Gillard - who incidentally actually came from Wales, some bloke called John who was in office longer than Maggie Thatcher, and Bob Hawke, who always reminded me of Liberace!

In the morning, I walked to Circular Quay, just to watch the ferries go about their business for a wee while. I can't say how long I was there, for time just evaporates when there is no pressing need to look at the clock, or watch, or more likely these days - the mobile phone! After a bit, I looked at the ferry map for the longest route, and that was the very next ferry I would take.  Parramatta - here I come. I loved the journey, in fact, I liked the journey more than the destination, but sometimes that is the way of it, the doing is better than the arriving. Although I'm not saying Parramatta was bad, I'm just saying the bits I saw were not excessively interesting; however, having said that, I did find the coloured glass awning around part of the New South Wales Police HQ rather impressive. 

It was raining when I took the ferry back to Circular Quay, and it was still raining when I walked back from the Quay to the hotel. Day had already turned to dusk, or perhaps beyond, with night starting to reclaim the day, allowing lights to shimmer and shine on the wet surfaces. I rather like walking in the rain - but let that be our little secret because if you tell people you like walking in the rain, they tend to think you are a couple of sandwiches short of a picnic or the lift doesn't quite go to the top floor!

Dinner was, if you're remotely interested, salad and a milk bun. I confess, I'm rather taken with the Australian milk bun, which admittedly is little more than a white bread roll, it still has a rather nice taste to it!.

 

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

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