Home again, home again, jiggity-jig.

It was a balmy 6 degrees as we boarded the plane at Narita (around 7:45pm local time), rather bracing for someone dressing for Australia's late-spring.

Method to our madness - wear them out before the 9 hour flight.

Aside from some fear-inducing turbulence somewhere north of Guam (the on-screen flight-path had us reassuringly over an ocean trench at the time), the 8000 kilometre, 9 hour flight went reasonably well. We were once again joined by scores of Japanese school kids (aren't they ever in the classroom?). Lily tested out the complimentary air-sick bags, Hamish tossed and turned, while Josh slept blissfully away.

Welcome to Australia ladies and gentlemen.

On the walk from the plane to our hire car we passed around a half-dozen coffee shops - all advertising multiple varieties of heated coffee. Clearly, we are a blessed country. The rental car was sandwiched between a pair of cars so snuggly that I had to scoot across the passenger seat to reach the wheel (it was either that or attempt a Dukes of Hazzard window-entry).

My 7 minutes of sleep caught up with me somewhere around Kensington, so I handed the driving duties to Jenny and reacquainted myself with Australian radio. The running commentary normally heard coming from the back seat was conspicuously absent - all three kiddies deep in slumber.

Our journey's final leg gave me plenty of time to reflect on the past month or so.

I could rave about the pockets of beauty (be it a Zen garden, or cold, clean water cascading into a Koi-filled pond, perhaps a Shinto Shrine - older than the West) nestled among the grim urban landscape. I could also describe the sea of tradition and sense of selflessness that permeates the culture. Maybe talk about the vast changes in both landscape and the people across the islands. While I could do those things, I shall instead give some snap-shots of individual significance.

• Tattoos - practically non-existent - even the desperately heavy-metal hospitality staff at the Hard Rock Cafe were ink-free. 
• Pocky - our constant companion.
• Cigarettes - societal acceptance is somewhere around where Australia was in the 80s (vending machines, advertising, restaurants, etc).
• Their toilets vary from ceramic holes in the ground (sans toilet paper), to electronic, automated marvels that will practically make you a sandwich.
• Grapes - theirs taste like Grape-flavoured Hubba Bubba - a concentrated version of itself.
• You should consider stopping at railway crossings in Japan. Seriously.
• TV - it is madness. It is madness that has been given red cordial and then stayed up way too late. I loved it.
• They are pushy, yet polite drivers. Hesitate, and they will swarm past you. Cut them off, and they will display no frustration/anger at all. It appears they have removed emotion from their driving entirely.
• Bowing will get you everywhere - even their road signs have people doing it.
• They will meticulously carve fruit into delicate works of art, yet their coffee tastes like the back of a postage stamp - and not a nice-tasting stamp.
• They wear surgical masks in public to avoid giving other people germs if they are unwell.
• Conservation of space. They make extraordinary use of what little they have, and then grow some veges for good measure.
• Dress sense - on the one hand, their svelte frames just go with their tailored suits and heels, but on the other - plush-toy beanies.
• Pedestrian crossings - if there isn't a traffic light involved, do not expect the cars to slow down. I think they are more for the motorists, a kind of, "Watch out for people running for their lives - here".
• Bean paste - found in pretty much everything. Fortunately, it grows on you.
• Honesty - people trust other people. Things that would be taken despite being bolted-down in Australia are left out over-night, safe in the knowledge that it will be there in the morning. 
• Raccoon Dogs - just because.