A half-reluctant 3 days holiday trip to Yamanashi Highlands had me reliving the forgotten horrors of an organized group tour. Sponsored by a certain Rotary Club, whose members have affliations with my former Japanese language school, I had fatally commited my name a month ago, thinking perhaps I could meet up with some of my old friends, most of whom didn't turn up anyway. So after checking into the hotel the "program" started as we were ferried from place to place, touch and go travelling, stopping at one souvenir town after another till I was sure I won't survive till day three.

And what's with the incessant photo taking ?? Sure, I mean if the scenery's justifiably beautiful and all, but the crazied lot were snapping everywhere they went, outside a cliched souvenir shop, front of the roadside, long as they could find a place to stand. This lady, seeing me grieving in pain outside the souvenir shop, came up and asked : " Say, you don't like taking pictures ? "

Silence.

No more group tours for me.

I dunno which galaxy these guys came from, but on the planet where I live, and I'm no linguistic expert here either, I dare wager desert dwellers in Mongolia sure as hell don't speak Cantonese ( Lei hai bingor ? ). Cracked me up. Still, John Moore's remake of the film Flight of the Phoenix does happen on this planet no ? Confusing.

Anyway, a phonecall from my concerned mother regarding the earthquake ( happens intermittently here, most Tokyoites including myself have learnt to be fairly nonchalant about it, unless the roof actually comes down on our heads. ) had me assuring her that all was fine ( I keep reminding her half-jokingly that if the Big One were to visit, which by the way is overdue for Tokyo, myself, together with half of Tokyo's population would have long since coalesced with the remaining rubble by the time news hit Singapore shores. ) Anyway, passing the phone over to my brother as we caught up a bit I realized to my absolute horror I haven't spoken english for so long it sounded...wierd, foreign even. Like that part in Dances With Wolves, if you know what I mean. Couple that with my half_f**ked Japanese, too, and a nightmarish evening is complete, together with cantonese speaking Mongolian desert dwellers.

An invitation from my good friends Takeshi+Kojima for a summer vacation in Takeshi's hometown Gunma ( a largely rural prefecture north of Tokyo, very Riri ShuShu-ish. ) was an excellent way to kickstart the vacation, although temperatures there soared to a searing 37.1 degrees as we arrived, threatening to set my short crop on fire. This time round armed with a video camera documentation was high on the tasklist, and the highlights certainly had to include a drive up mountain Akagiyama ( home to the manga and film Initial D, although the drive up the winding roads gave me none of that "need for speed gusto" but a splitting headache instead. ), as well as the annual Takasaki summer festival, complete with fireworks and folkdances.