Zen and the art of knife sharpening

Against the backdrop of our modern world of instant information, where people can go to Wikipedia or Youtube and quickly become "experts" in just about anything, it's nice to occasionally be reminded that there is still value in true expertise and devotion to art.

Take, for example, the art of sharpening a knife. Sure, I like a sharp knife in the kitchen, but I've never really given a second thought to the differences between knives or investing in tools to keep them sharp. You know, you buy a knife block, it has a sharpening slot, you use it when the knife gets blunt, end of story... right? Ha.

I guess my first insight into the value of a great knife came last year in Japan, when my wife, having grown sick of the standard (easily blunted) knives we had, insisted on buying a top quality chopping knife to take back to Australia. Her Dad's advice was that the best local knives were found at a weekend market in Kochi city. So we drove 2 hours across the island to get there and do our knife shopping. To go with the knife - which ended up being something more like a butcher's cleaver and had me a little worried about whether or not I was being a good enough husband - she also picked up a sharpening stone. Now that we have it all back here at home, my wife keeps the knife wrapped in newspaper to prevent oxidation of the metal blade, and soaks the stone in water overnight before using it to sharpen. It all seemed a bit over the top at the time, but I can't complain, I'm not the one chopping vegetables every day.

My appreciation of the effort that should go into keeping a good knife sharp went up a notch last week when I went out on an animal health survey for work. Animal surveys are the stuff of biosecurity legend, but in short, we head out into the wilds of northern Australia, jump in a helicopter and chase feral animals around in the name of protecting our country. For the unlucky few pigs that we catch, the usual fate is a post-mortem, taking samples of blood and tissue to check for pests and diseases of concern. To do a post-mortem, the most important thing you need (besides for a dead pig) is a good sharp knife. And what better thing to do around the campfire at day's end, in the company of classic bush characters, than to clean and sharpen your knives and discuss the finer points of the act as you go?

My campmates in eastern Cape York were all veterans of remote area field work and already had a history of spending long evenings debating the relative merits of one sharpening technique or another. They confirmed something I probably should've already known - that Japanese knives are still considered the best in the world, owing to techniques of metal folding and lamination that have their origin in the long Japanese tradition of swordmaking. They pulled out their sharpening tools - not just one stone, but two, one rougher than the other, with a vice to hold your stone of choice firm, and a diamond-edged sharpening steel rod to finish the job. And woe betide the poor soul who brought an electric knife sharpener to the last survey!

Listening to their talk, I soon realised that sharpening a knife can be a very personal, meditative experience, enhanced by developing a proper appreciation of a well-sharpened blade. Like so many things in this world, when you scratch the surface you soon find that there is so much more to know, if only you care to dig deeper. And of course, when I had the chance to do a post-mortem myself, I soon learned that cutting through the thick hide of a fully grown razorback pig is no fun with a blunt knife! I have a feeling that I'll never be able to buy anything but a top quality knife ever again...

The rest of the survey was similarly full of great experiences and insights. The last time I drove a car off-road was in Japan - once you get north of a little town called Laura, it's almost all dirt roads in Cape York. The country we flew over in the helicopter was amazing, with pockets of rainforest and stretches of coastline that have probably never known the footfall of a white man. There were crocodiles in every other waterhole or riverbend - we got in close to a toothless 15-foot monster, the biggest wild croc the pilot had ever seen. And though we still had electricity and a hot shower, it was wonderful to disconnect from the world wide web, hang out with some good blokes, sleep under the stars and get back to the simple life for a few days. I'm not sure that I'd want to do this kind of work all the time, but I am sure when I look back on my time as a quarantine officer that I'll remember this survey fondly.

A month or two ago, however, I thought I might not get the chance to go out on survey at all. It was mid-February when we found out that my wife was pregnant with our third child. Which was wonderful news of course! But unlike the pregnancies for our first two children, it was quickly apparent that this one was more delicate, with Masumi needing to make a couple of trips to the hospital's emergency department. I didn't want to head out into the bush for a week if my wife's health was at risk. Fortunately, things have settled down since we passed the 20-week mark and Mum and baby both seem to be doing well. Just to make sure, I had my own mother up to Cairns to keep the family company while I was out in the field. It all worked out well, and indeed, I think it's fair to say that everything is looking good now.

Child number three should be joining us in October. We don't know if it's a boy or a girl - since we have one of each already, it'll be fantastic to have a surprise this time around. The only thing we do know is that we need to pick a name that uses just one Chinese character, to match Ryo and Aya. We've got a few in mind already. We'll keep you all posted.

Lots of love,

Dave

For F's sake

I don't usually engage in arguments. When I encounter opinions that are different to mine, I'm usually open to them, and I don't care to challenge other points of view when it's of little real consequence. Really, you're welcome to think whatever you want if it doesn't affect anyone but yourself. Live life and explore this existence in whatever way you see fit.

But I guess, like anybody, there's some issues that press the right buttons and ignite that little arguing flame in the cockles of my heart.

For example, vaccination. Adults choosing not to vaccinate themselves is one thing. Adults choosing not to vaccinate their children is completely another.

For the record, I had my vaccines, I'm fine. My children are fully vaccinated, they're fine. I understand that, very occasionally, children have bad reactions to vaccine components. Some of them die or have permanent problems, that's very sad, I'd be shattered if it happened to me. But I'd be no less shattered if my son was hit by a car. Nothing in this life is 100% risk free. And the threat to my children and children everywhere from diseases like polio and measles is so much greater than the miniscule risk of having problems with vaccination that, for anyone who trusts modern medicine, vaccination is a no brainer.

These days, where children dying from measles is almost unheard of in a country like Australia, people who actually have no expertise in these matters are somehow given a platform to spread misinformation about issues like vaccination. As a result, a growing number of people get bad information and end up thinking that it's okay not to vaccinate their kids. These are the kids who get and spread whooping cough, because not enough people are vaccinated. These are the pockets of population where diseases like measles are making a comeback in our society. Parents these days have no idea what it was like to live with polio, we're so lucky to be free of a host of child-killing diseases. Frankly, people who don't believe in vaccination are bonkers and their kids are suffering because of it.

Unfortunately, their decisions put my children at risk, too. Maybe their children should be sent to separate schools of their own where they can all get sick and die of measles and polio together, far away from my children? I shy away from that sort of segregation, but if people believe in their right to choose about vaccination, shouldn't people also believe in the rights of parents to send their kids to schools that are free of preventable diseases? Touchy issue.

So today, I was driving home from work, listening to the radio, when another thorny subject came up. Fluoridation of water supply. Seems the Cairns Regional Council has today voted to cease adding fluoride to our city's water supply. First I'd heard of it, but apparently it's a done deal.

This is another issue where all the reputable subject matter experts, such as the World Health Organisation, the Australian Medical Association and the Australian Dental Association, say, "It's good for you, not bad for you, good for society more broadly, and this is backed by peer-reviewed science." And of course, there's a whole bunch of other people, claiming to be knowledgable but actually having no verifiable credibility, who say that fluoride is a toxin and it's doing you harm and what the hell is it doing in people's drinking water... these people somehow get given as much credence as the genuine experts, and we therefore have a situation where your average citizen can't easily get the true story.

The council's line is that the Local Governments Association of Queensland has an official position that fluoridation of water supplies is akin to "mass medication" and shouldn't be done without the prior approval of constituents. Righto. Chlorine or ozone in your water apparently doesn't qualify as "mass medication", according to the LGAQ, but fluoridation does. Never mind that fluoride occurs naturally in the earth and in all fresh water, sometimes in greater concentrations than under controlled fluoridation scenarios. The LGAQ is clearly a more credible authority on public health issues than the WHO, the AMA and the ADA... pffft.

Ah, but this isn't about public health, this is about choice. People should have a choice about whether they're drinking fluoridated water. I don't disagree with this. I simply disagree with the notion that adding tiny amounts of fluoride to a town water supply means that you no longer have a choice. Get a filter. Drink bottled water. Install a rainwater tank and drink it fresh from the sky. Or get it from below the ground. Recycle your grey water. Move off the water grid. Move towns. Move countries. More choices than you can poke a toothbrush at. Don't tell me you don't have a choice.

On the subject of councils now having a choice about fluoridation, there are two issues. The first is, what is the status quo? Do you currently not fluoridate, or do you already have the infrastructure in place and have fluoride in your water? This leads into the second issue of community consultation. If a change to the status quo is proposed, representatives are obliged to consult extensively before implementing the change.

If you don't currently fluoridate, and don't have the infrastructure, and have better things to spend a couple of million bucks on, that's fine. Tell people where they can get their fluoride tablets and then move on.

In the case of Cairns, the status quo is fluoridation. We have millions of dollars worth of fluoridation equipment already in place and working. Our community already gets the health benefits of this practice. Proposing that you are going to change this practice, for whatever reason, is fine, but the community needs a genuine opportunity to have input before you go and make a final decision. Our local councillors have failed to do this. They certainly didn't go to the most recent election on a platform of ceasing fluoridation. They haven't so much as conducted an independent survey to gauge community opinion. And they can't even claim to be making this decision on the basis of some verifiable sort of evidence.

So well done, councillors, you've delivered a solid slap in the face to everyone who believes in good science, good public health and good evidence-based decision making. You've completely F'd it up. Congratulations.

Eclipsed

I have to admit, I was initially a bit sceptical about the hoo-haa surrounding the total solar eclipse. A couple of years in advance, all the hotels in Cairns were fully booked out around the target date of November 14. The chance of a cloudy November morning on the far northern coast of Queensland is about 30%, so we had a 1 in 3 chance of seeing nothing but a false evening. And the eclipse was due to occur just after dawn, when (babies not withstanding) I am typically still in bed. Meh. How much of a spectacle could it be?

As the date crept closer, of course, there was nothing you could do to avoid it. Everyone in Cairns was talking about it. The forecast attempts from the weather bureau were coming thick and fast from about a week out. Local authorities were warning residents about likely mayhem on the roads for the few hours before and after. And makers of eclipse sunglasses were making an absolute killing - surely some of those crappy "filters" were nothing more than $5 squares of black paper!

In the end, though, I couldn't stay away. We had a friend visit from Japan and put in a detour to Cairns just for the event. A work colleague invited us around to his place, for a great view over the city and the mountains from his balcony. We borrowed some welding shields from my wife's father, who made them to view the transit of Venus earlier in the year. We bought some bubbly. We got up at 05:00 and were in place by 06:15 to see it all go down.

What do you know, there was a big fat cloud right in front of the sun as it rose over the coastal ranges. Massive fail incoming.

But wait... the edge of the cloud is brightening... glimpses of the sun, quick get the glasses... 2 minutes to go and the clouds have parted perfectly... what do you know, those crappy sunglasses really do work - but the welding shields are SOOOO much better, you can even take photos through them...

Within a matter of the last few seconds before totality, the sky darkened, the temperature dropped, and you could start to look in the general direction of the sun without being blinded. And suddenly, the sun was gone, replaced by the moon and its halo.

There followed two minutes of beautiful, perfect, somehow-I-feel-insignificant-in-the-universe totality. ABSOLUTELY INCREDIBLE.

Even our little boy Ryo noticed it, between chasing the dog around the house. "The mooooon!" he cried and pointed. I guess he won't remember it when he's an adult, but I'll make sure he knows that he's seen it, because for most of us it's truly a once-in-a-lifetime spectacle.

And I can sort of understand why some people travel the world chasing eclipses, waiting for their next solar fix. Brief though that interlude of totality may be, it is truly a wonder of our existence in this corner of the multiverse. I think the comment that sums it up for me was to the tune of, "The fact that the moon covers the sun so perfectly makes you wonder that someone must have organised it that way." It certainly makes we wonder, and in any case, it was wonderful.

And for all you guys hanging out down at the Esplanade, I think that cloud that moved out of the way for us must have moved into the way for you. Sorry. Better luck in South Australia in a couple of decades time, eh? :)

If I hadn't been living right under the path of the eclipse, of course, I probably wouldn't have bothered. Another reason I feel lucky to have moved to Cairns some six years ago. No wonder they call it paradise.

Love,

Dave

Beautiful design

I don't know what my wife is doing, but our little girl is BIG. Growing at double the rate of most babies in the eight weeks since her birth. I've searched the house for syringes and growth hormone - nothing. Maybe there's something about giving birth on Australia Day that puts a little extra zing in your breast milk? In any case, our daughter Aya is already as big as most kids twice her age and every bit the healthy, beautiful girl we had hoped for, so I guess we'll just count our lucky stars.

The character we chose for Aya means "beautiful design", with some common usage in relation to kimonos. Masumi was keen to have a one-character name, to match our older boy Ryo. I was just happy to give her a solid, easily understood name. It happened that she joined us on her due day - just like Ryo - and at a time when we were about to move into our new home. With such good timing, and in the face of the awesome reality and blessing of now having two children, it's easy to believe that it really is all part of some greater, beautiful design.

Oh, and there was the small matter of her being born on AustrAYA Day... :)

Of course, new baby and moving house all made for a good deal of mayhem to kick off the year. Having Masumi's mother on hand to help for nearly two months made the house even busier, but certainly lightened the load. Another big help was ten days of dedicated paternity leave, courtesy of our recently approved enterprise agreement. A few of the boys from work pitched in to help us do the move - couldn't have done it without them! And we were in the house just in time for my brother to visit for a week, during which I put him to work with shovel and wheelbarrow to make a fantastic start on the landscaping.

In the four weeks we've been in the house thus far, we've always had a visitor staying with us - Masumi's mum, my brother, then my mum. It's only now, a month later, that we finally have the place to ourselves. The company's been wonderful, but it's nice to have a quiet Saturday night to ourselves, at last!

However, I could do with a little extra help around the garden still. We're getting someone else to do the patch of grass out the front, but I've got a massive load of rocks and gravel still to move around by myself, trying to stop our soil from eroding away in the big wet. It's only really the last couple of weeks that the wet season has come on in earnest here in tropical north Queensland - all the rain went south before that! Hopefully a few well placed boulders will help to hold it all together until the dry.

We get to enjoy a bit of quiet time until June, when we're probably heading off to Japan for our usual summer pilgrimage. If you have a chance to visit Cairns in the meantime, now that we've got room for guests, feel free to get in touch!

Until next time,

Dave

The agency formerly known as...

This past few weeks, I've swung a hockey stick in earnest for the first time in over a decade. Our boy Ryo has learned to run so fast that I can't get the 10 steps from my bed to the toilet in the morning without him catching up. And we went to Fiji to see my best mate get married to his beautiful girl. Good times.

Also, where there was once a flat patch of grass on our block of land, there now stands a fully-fledged house just waiting for its finishing touches before we can move in. Here's a couple of snaps to give you a feel for the house and the valley we'll soon be calling home.

And last, but certainly not least, my wife Masumi is looking very round, plump in the most lovely way. Our little girl - yes, a girl! - is due into the world on Australia Day. But the baby is very active, and a summer pregnancy is hard work in tropical Queensland, we'll just have to see if they can both wait that long!

So it's been busy, and that's just the stuff going on at home.

When I haven't been lazing in the Fijian sun, work's been busy, too. I'm settling nicely into my new permanent role at quarantine. Er, that is, the agency formerly known as quarantine. Like any good government organisation, we're into a cycle of reform, rejigging and rebranding. Unfortunately, our new name is much further along in the cycle than, well, everything else. So if you call up the agency formerly known as quarantine, perhaps looking to report something formerly known as a quarantine emergency to someone formerly known as a quarantine officer, be prepared to instead be directed to a biosecurity officer working for DAFF. Yes, that's right, we've been DAFFed. Be careful or you will be, too. Now we just have to wait for our uniforms, signage, legislation, and the rest of Australia to catch up.

Speaking of waiting, I've been thinking lately about writing a book. I have a bad record of saying things like this and never really getting down to it, but this time I think I've got a more concrete idea of what the book could be, hopefully that'll provide enough fuel for the fire. To make sure I follow through, indulge me while I outline the concept.

I already have about 10 years of factual, written material detailing my experiences in Japan. Most of it is based on Shikoku, which is a place that few Japanese really appreciate, let alone foreigners. Shikoku itself is famous for a few things, but perhaps more than anything it is the island's pilgrimage of 88 temples that is most well known in Japan and around the world. Now, I reckon I'd have at least 88 good stories from my time in Japan. So, perhaps I can write a book of 88 short chapters, all about my adventures on Shikoku? If I write it well enough and add some good maps, it could be a story-based travel guide. Probably not quite in the league of the Da Vinci Code, but something like that! Anyway, whaddya reckon?

This all sounds like a lot of exciting change in our lives. True, new job, new house, new baby... it's all happening at once. But the substance of every day seems to be pretty regular - wake (always too early!) to the cries of our demanding baby boy, go to work, tap tap tap on the keyboard, come home, dinner as a family, shower with baby, put baby to bed, and get some time to ourselves before we sleep (always too little!) and do it all again. Routine is a good thing with young children, however, and we'll need to get it down to a fine art with a second baby in the house. And of course, every day as a parent has its little blessings. 2012 looks like it's bound to bring us even more.

We're in Cairns for Christmas. No spectacular plans, just some prawns, a smattering of presents, and good company. We're likely to hit the post-Christmas sales hard, and maybe a few garage sales in the New Year, too, to get ready to move into the new place.

Until next time, when I should be able to share photos of our daughter and gush like a proud father... stay safe, enjoy your Christmas and very best wishes for the New Year.

Dave

The fat man dances

If you need an honest opinion about whether you've put on weight, Japanese people will deliver every time.

Take for example my recent return to dance practice in Tokushima. I turn up to Tensui-ren's practice at the local temple carpark one balmy evening last month, and the first thing out of the mouths of most people in the group was, "Dave, did you put on weight?!"

Some people softened the blow with the follow-up comment "Shiawase-na futori ya na" - which equates to the fattening of a happily married man, and is probably on the money. One or two thought I looked a little bigger and stronger, a bit like my very solidly built brother (who they've met), which sounds much better than "fatter". Everyone was kind enough to otherwise seem happy to see me again.

So I could only accept the comments with grace. And get on with dancing to whip my long disused muscles back into shape and try to shake those love handles.

I only had a week or so of actual practice to get into some sort of dancing shape before it was time to don the yukata in earnest. But my first performance was not in Tokushima, the veritable Mecca of Awa Odori. Instead it was at another festival half way across the country on the tsunami-devastated north-eastern coast.

Joining a bunch of dancers and dongers from a variety of different groups, I jetted, bussed and bullet trained my way to Sendai city, about 3 hours train ride north of Tokyo. Sendai is a scant hundred kilometres from Fukushima's nuclear disaster zone. The image of Sendai's airport being inundated and planes being washed away was one of the first I can recall seeing when news of the tsunami flitted around the globe back in March. Nearly five months later, we were heading to this busy town of over a million people to lift some spirits and spread a little happiness, Awa Odori style.

Straight off the train, we danced in the street in front of our hotel, then jumped on another bus to visit a kasetsu juutaku, temporary housing for people who lost their own homes. We danced at a couple of such places, amidst rows and rows of demountable buildings set up in camps on sports grounds or old school sites. The families living there seemed grateful to see us, and I think we duly managed to bring a little joy into their difficult lives.

The next day we danced in the festival proper, Sendai's famous Tanabata Matsuri. If I wasn't in dancing shape before I arrived, dancing in the heat of the day on stage and down a 170m arcade was bound to do the trick. The locals were generally unfamiliar with Awa Odori, but I think that just made them more appreciative. We all had a good time and personally I got a lot out of the experience of being on tour with people who live and breathe Awa Odori.

But of course we couldn't visit a place like Sendai without going to see the after effects of the tsunami, the literal ground zero. Doing it taxi style meant we had the driver's local perspective on what happened. The bulk of the wave was stopped by a built-up section of highway a kilometre or two in from the shore. On the inland side, there was a bit of garbage and the occasional derelict car, but buildings were generally intact. On the seaward side, there wasn't much left.

More piles of garbage, more random car wrecks. Concrete foundations of buildings, occasionally the actual shell of a house or gas stand. Plots that might have been rice fields now ruined and empty. In the distance, near the sea, a mountain with cranes moving around on it, which we were told is actually a mountain of rubbish that is simply being pushed together in one place so it can be dealt with. We couldn't go near it because roads are still closed in some areas that are considered too dangerous to access or are being protected from looting. Five months later, forget about rebuilding, they are still cleaning up. It's hard to comprehend how all that used to be standing in that place was washed away. And hard not to fearfully realise as you're driving along that you are driving on roads that were under six metres of churning ocean a scant few months ago. Fortunately the joy of dancing was close at hand to chase away these fleeting nightmares.

No sooner were we on the train back home than our exploits could already be found on YouTube. Sign of the times! The comment below this first one describes the cameraman's surprise when a big foreigner appeared dancing down the arcade - the repeat frames of me reinforce the impact, I guess!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XyU4BpZWhaw

This second one is of our stage performance. I didn't even notice during the performance that one of our girls hit the deck. Full credit to her, she got back up, turned on the smile and carried on!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qdbkh_06F8U

And here's two more for good measure:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y0aObE7bf4U

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rZMnc0expPw

While we're at it, see if you can find me in these videos from the main festival in Tokushima:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MNeMtcbJy6c

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hPh4OmiByiM

Of course, I couldn't spend a month of summer in Japan without hitting the river for a good time with the crew at Happy Raft. After a couple of typhoons and plenty of rain in June, the Yoshino River had just come down to a nice level again by the time we arrived. Between dance practice, the festival and the recovery, I managed to head out west twice, both times jumping in a little boat by myself to cruise down the small rapids on the upper stretch of the river. The second time down I got to test out "mini-me", a 2-man raft the same shape as the big boats, rounder than the long inflatable kayak that is the usual for a 1-man paddle. I'll tell you, it's not easy to get a raft down the river by yourself with a single-bladed paddle, but it was a fun time!

In total I danced 2 days in Sendai, 1 in Naruto, and 3-and-a-bit in Tokushima city. We also headed out to Ikeda to watch the last day of dancing out west and see if any old friends from Minoda-ren and the valley were still around. Sure enough, quite a few familiar faces. It was all good baby!

Speaking of babies, I wasn't the only chubby foreigner dancing on the streets of Tokushima this year. Our 13-month old boy Ryo took to it with a passion, too. Whenever the sound of ringing gongs and beating drums (or even a spoon clinking on a glass!) wafted past Ryo's ears, both arms went up into the air and he started bouncing on his little legs before running off in search of the nearest group of dancers to invade. He loves it and it's a source of great joy for Masumi and I to see him in action. Now the only problem is whether he ends up dancing with Masumi's group Uzuki-ren or with my Tensui-ren!

Also speaking of babies, we spent a lot of our time in Japan meeting up with friends and family to tell them some good news - baby number two is on the way! We don't know whether it's a boy or a girl yet, but Masumi is due to give birth some time in January. Watch this space!

Adding to the excitement, and also to the pressure, is the fact that work on our new house has just started this week. The thin layer of grass and soil has been stripped away, leaving only dirt that has been pounded hard and flat. Next up should be drainage and a concrete slab. Then it's the race to get it done by Christmas - otherwise, it'll be the wet season, and the black hole of holidays into the New Year, and the baby will be due... there's some kinds of mayhem I'd rather avoid!

Fortunately, my work as a public servant shouldn't contribute to the mayhem, especially now that I've secured a permanent full-time position here in Cairns. The last six months or so have been a flurry of applications and interviews for positions in Canberra, and subsequent negotiations to be outposted in Cairns. Finally, the NAQS program decided that an in-house capacity to manage data and IT issues was necessary on an ongoing basis. I interviewed for the position by phone from Japan, in the midst of our holiday, and must have done enough to convince the panel that I'm the man for the job.

So with a new house, new baby and new job, it looks like we're set for being in Cairns for a year or two yet. If we can set ourselves up to visit Japan for a month or two each northern summer, we'll be living the dream.

While we were away, Masumi and I celebrated two years since our wedding and three years of legal marriage. We also received some great news - Masumi has earned her permanent residency in Australia. The saga that started with Masumi getting booted out of the country is finally, really and truly, at an end. We don't even get a second look from immigration officers at the border these days. It's no small relief to know that we can now just focus on getting on with our lives together.

The final thing I noted between all the fun of Tokushima's festival season was that it has been exactly ten years since I first set foot on Shikoku. A decade since I first took the long, spectacular drive out to Iya; took my first clumsy dancing steps with Arasowa-ren under the bright lights of Aibahama; took the steep hike up to the Amagoi waterfall with all my fellow JETs in Kamiyama; and first started to write this blog. It really hit home for me when Masumi, Ryo and I hiked up to Amagoi with some friends the day before we were due to fly out.

It's a little bit spiritual up at the top of the main waterfall there. I couldn't help but spend a moment thinking about all the wonders of my time in Japan and how my life has changed since 2001. I whispered a few words of thanks to any of the spirits who might have been listening before we hiked back down. It started to rain just as we got to the bottom - which I like to think was an appropriate answer from a waterfall named “rain dance”.

Thanks, Japan, it's been good. 'Til next time, love,

Dave

Catalyst

Chess brought me to Cairns.

Before choosing to move to the tropical far north, I already had half a mind to spend a summer in Cairns rafting the Barron and the Tully, after which I'd go back to Japan for more of that on the Yoshino River. And I knew there was a small Japanese community in Cairns, which made it a little more attractive.

But chess was the clincher. The catalyst. Without my little chess business, I may never have come to Cairns, and... well, who knows where we'd all be now.

The actual now is a bit different to the nows I had imagined back in 2006. Husband. Father. Public servant. Mortgagee. I don't remember any of those being high on my list. But there they are and I wouldn't have it any other way. Largely thanks to chess.

Well, I guess I would happily exchange the mortgage for outright ownership of our soon-to-be house. Nevertheless, since buying a block of land out at Redlynch back in November and proceeding down the road to building a house, we've had a great time learning the ropes of investing in a place to call our own. All going well, earth will be turned and concrete poured by the end of June.

Which brings me back to chess, because the end of the financial year will not only see our house starting. It will also see my chess business finishing.

It's not in a state of financial crisis - after all, once you've bought a few chess boards and other bits and pieces, it doesn't cost very much to maintain a chess coaching business. It does, however, take a good deal of effort and dedication, like any small business, and it has the added challenge of requiring someone who can play chess and teach children. Harder to find than you might think! I used to be able to do it all myself, but I'm not able to commit the needed time to it any more, especially now that I have a family and a full-time career with quarantine. So it's time to move on. Thanks, chess, it's been good.

It's no small part of this decision that my work with quarantine is getting busier. My days as a part-timer on the shift team at Cairns Airport are almost a distant memory. I've been working full-time with the Northern Australia Quarantine Strategy for 18 months now. In that time, the exposure I've gained to broad biosecurity issues and projects has led to an opportunity to join a national team dealing with biosecurity information management. I'll be taking up this new position as of July.

It doesn't mean we have to move to Canberra, thankfully. That'd be a bit chilly at this time of year, not to mention putting a bit of a dampener on our plans to build a house. I'll be working from Cairns for the foreseeable future. Still, the pull of Canberra might one day prove to be an irresistible force.

There are worse places than Canberra to raise a family. I've only been there a couple of times, but I like it, it's a beautiful city. It is, however, about 3000km further away from Japan than Cairns. And it's a very expensive place to live, thanks to all those highly paid public servants. And it's cold. Brrrrr. Give me the endless summer any day!

Speaking of summer, we'll be leaving this not-quite-winter for the northern summer in August. Which is, of course, dancing and rafting season in the land of sudachis, whirlpools and dancing fools. Our boy Ryo will get his first real taste of Awa Odori. And it'll be my first dance down the streets of Tokushima since our wedding two years ago. Yep, it's going to be a cracker. I hope yours is, too.

Love,

Dave