This is how things stand with me as of this moment: I have applied for one job (well, apply is too strong a word. Lets just say I may have a job soon.) I may start next week - I'll find out tomorrow evening.

Fiscally speaking I have enough money to see me through a few more weekends like the one I just spent in Germany, but I will have to lay down some cash for the house pretty soon so that will dry up very quickly.

At this moment I sit in a dark loungeroom at 2am, about to play a computer game before my eyelids fail me. I am essentially trying to take it easy after the last few weeks, and before I potentially start work. But this doesn't signal the end of my holidaying, as evidenced by:

... my travel plans! October will find me (for a long weekend at least) in Spain with Mostyn, Melle and 8 other good souls, including Shaun. Barcelona in particular. Thanks to the magic of Melle our flights and accommodation are already booked and I need not put further thought into the whole affair until I'm sitting with a sangria in hand trying to decide between paella and tapas.

November will see the arrival of Kris, with whom I plan on jumping across to Italy. Probably on his first weekend here, as my other brother Matty arrives in London soon after. Since I've been to Rome I'm thinking perhaps Florence or something, but such concerns will have to wait till Kris has had his input...

Then, December. I plan on spending Christmas with the crew here in Wales, soaking up the snow from some kind of spa-ridden resort hosted by some kind of Michelin-star chef, who will incidentally also be picking us up from London. I believe this has also already been paid for, but I may be wrong there. In any case, I'm looking at it as locked in. New Years is still unspoken-for.

I plan on staying at this house for the forseeable future - anyone who wants to visit or travel somewhere in Europe with me only need ask, and I'll do my utmost to make a party of it.

And this web site now contains a full selection of my Japan (I added four new sub-albums: return to Tokyo from Kyoto, Gunma, Kusatsu and back to Tokyo a third time) and Germany photos, though I have not yet added witty little comments to the German ones. I still want to transcribe my Japan travel diary (well, it was really a 'Hello Kitty' notepad) here for my own personal satisfaction.

I write this in the comfort of my new house in London. The trip home was an exhausting conclusion to an exhausting week, and I can only feel pity for Shaun as I contemplate waking him from his 1.5 hours of sleep to send him off on his flight to Spain.

In my last post, on Friday, I mentioned we were trying to kill time before checking in at 3pm and having a curative nap. In my previous swearings-off of drinking beer (on account of aforementioned hangover) I had forgotten that passing time in Oktoberfest, of course, means drinking beer. We walked around to three tents before finding one with a table that wasn't quite completely full. In fact it was partially filled with some very nice Germans - Stefan, Wiekbe and Gertel - who spoke English quite well and in an entertaining fashion.

One liter of hair-of-the-dog and some of the most delicious pork steaks and bread dumplings with German coleslaw I've ever had later, and we were exchanging sincere Auf Wiedersehens and phone numbers with Stefan and his crew and moving back to the hostel.

The hostel was in good repair - apparently less than a year old - but it was packed to the proverbials with Aussies and Kiwis. We got our shit sorted, showered and relaxed for a little too long. Shaun slept while I watched Alf, Family Matters and A-Team reruns in German (they do seem to be 80s obsessed in Germany.)

We returned to the festival at about 6 to find that all the tents were full to capacity and had locked their doors. The word 'tent' seems to be some kind of historical artifact here, as they are large halls made of wood, very un-tentlike.

Wandering, trying to allay the disturbing notion that we weren't going to be partaking of the merriment we could see but not reach, we ate bratwurcht and pork rolls before joining the throng in front of the Hofbräuhaus tent front door. The Hofbräuhaus, of course, being the 'pig-pit' - the tent where one is advised not to wear underwear against the very real possiblity of having it swiftly and cruelly removed by the most direct route and thrown on the comic figure swinging from the center of the hall ceiling. This is where the Aussies generally hang out, and the tent we would probably have avoided had not we received notice that Stefan and his crew were in there.

We got in an hour and a half later and found the new crew. They were situated directly in the center of the hall with a bunch of other Germans. At this point I begin to feel that excess verbiage will do little good in conveying the true atmosphere, so I'll try to get the video Shaun filmed edited in some fashion at some stage. I would be remiss if I failed to mention the Ein Prosit song, though, as it is sung most exhuberantly every 10 minutes or so and signifies a massive toast, or as I came to realise quite quickly would be a more accurate term, binge. The best thing about this song is that once you learn the words, you can sing along with the Germans for half the night, it is sung that frequently.

That was how we saw our last full day in Germany. Slept well for a few hours in the hostel, where a Kiwi chick Amy had already crashed. Sleep was interrupted at 4ish by some retard roommate who decided it was more important to have the light on in the bedroom (while he was in the bathroom) than to leave us sleeping peacefully.

The trip back to Köln was relatively uneventful, and at 300kph on the ICE. We had an awesome lunch at the Frau, consisting of herring salad on fried potato, mushroom schnitzel and the house special steak (soft egg broken on top, bean salad.) Then train to Köln/Bonn airport, Germanwings flight to Stansted, 2 hour bus to Victoria station, walked Claudia - a German chick we met on the plane - to her place nearby, caught a series of tubes to Kennington station, then walked back to the house.

Shaun and Mick are about to leave, then I'm gonna sleep. Yes, I care that this drivel should be edited, but I don't care enough to actually edit it.

Crazy ass time last night. The past few days have been:

Monday, decided to go to Germany with Shaun

Tuesday, went to Germany with Shaun, arrived Dusseldorf, caught a bus to Koln. Visited uncle Walter, ate awesome food and pub hopped the night away. Stayed in the Meininger hostel, which was awesome.

Wednesday, decided to go to Munich for Oktoberfest. Bought train tickets for about 200 euro return. Met family again and stayed at uncle Walters till midnight. Stayed in the Station motel, not so awesome. Met nice guys there though, maybe catch up in Munich.

Thursday, 6 hour train to Munich. Met Zoe and 'Skeety', Ness and a bunch of her friends. Predictable night: drink, drink, eat, lose Shaun. Stayed at Zoe's hotel floor.

Friday: woke up on Zoe's hotel floor, Shaun missing. Called hospital, police, festival drunk tent to no avail. Packed Shaun's stuff because Zoe was leaving in the morning and we had to move to the next Hostel (A and O hostel.) Found Shaun, disconsolate, red-eyed, with a gingerbread heart dangling from his wrist, wandering the streets of Munich. Much relieved. Moved on to next motel (A and O motel.) Getting sick of having to leave my backpack (with laptop) unguarded in unlocked rooms.

That's it so far - hungover as fuck, sitting in an internet cafe. If we could check in to the motel we'd be sleeping right now (can't check in till 3pm.) Shaun just got off the phone with Ulrike (Ali's sister, living in Munich - daughters of uncle Walter.) Leaving tomorrow morning for Koln again, then heading back to U.K. in the evening.

I guess I'll head back to the festival now...

Come this Wednesday my Internet troubles will be over. Then I'll be home again.

Till then, sorry for not replying to emails or whatever. Soooooon.

The contrast between two major cities couldnt be more stark. Tokyo - beautiful, unfathomable and completely alien. Whether in Kimonos, extremely fashionable workclothes, maid outfits, the latest giaru rebellion line or t-shirts with fucked up english phrases like I've got the crabs or EXCITING sex is good. Quiet sex is also good, you wont find a woman dressed uninterestingly. On a list of adjectives for London fashion, interesting and exotic would probably be closer to the end.

Tokyo, and all of Japan, could be defined in terms of respect. Respect for history makes festivals (and there are many festivals) a truly awe-inspiring spectacle. Respect for food makes every dining experience a ritual. Respect for the law means that no gathering is ever out of control. Respect for business means the customer is not only always right, but is in control of any transaction they partake in. I saw on many occasions a salesperson, having completed a transaction, going through a complicated farewell ritual long after the customer was out of sight. Every convenience store has wide bins with three compartments: bottles, plastics and other, and people use them correctly. London is as maintained as it needs to be. The dirt coating everything attests to disrepair that defies description in terms of respect. London is many things, but beautiful isn't in there at all.

But Japan is in many ways unapproachable to gaijin (foreigners). Sometimes interesting, we may be the focus of fascinated stares or more, I get the feeling that a westerner could never really assimilate into the culture. Another world, it's not seen as racism or xenophobia - it's not considered or questioned at all, in fact. It's just the way things are.

I desperately want to write down my impressions of that incredible place and the awesome things we did; every moment back in the real world evacuates the incongruous memories of my last few weeks. But I'm writing this now partially suspended from Mostyn's upstairs window, using a laptop that barely maintains a tenuous link to the internet through a stolen wireless network that would drop out of range if I pull into the house any further. For this reason I can't update further yet or upload any photos.

I hope to write a detailed accounting of my holiday soon, more so I can refer to it later and have Lance and Aki confirm details or add their own ideas than for any other reason.

Now that I have some time I decided to upload photos. There are brief explanations on each.

These photos are from the first few parts of my journey - Tokyo and Kyoto. I won't write more about them yet because I gotta get ready to head into Takadanobaba to meet Lance and his mates.

I'll hopefully upload more photos soon.

Lance has written a brief summary of some of the events of the last few weeks.

So. Lance and I woke up after 5 hours sleep (about one hour to my scheduled check-in time) to a particularly wobbly house (perhaps read the post below before you read this one.) We decided to pack all my stuff quickly then race, with incredible haste, carrying all my luggage, to Narita airport so I could call the KLM flight center and extend my stay in Tokyo by 4 days. Then we wobbled home with all my stuff.

This is an abridged version of the events, of course. But in any case, my new departure details are 29th August, 11:30am on KL 0862 to Amsterdam, then 07:05pm on KL 1027 to London Heathrow.

I need sleep. And the weird thing is that Lance and I have suddenly become some kind of amazing source of either amusement or fascination to Japanese schoolgirls. I'm not sure what the deal is, but we've been getting stares all day and its starting to make me think I'm wearing my pants backwards or something.

Anyway, I now have a few days to upload pictures and shit. And it only cost me about $150, which is ok.

Im not sure whats going on at the moment - its 4am and Im meant to be at the airport tomorrow morning before 10 (its a one hour train trip). I went out tonight with Lance, two Irishmen and a Japanese chick, and another Australian (but he went home early). There was some kind of festival (Matsuli) that took over the whole suburb for a time.

Drinks, photos and ridiculous music. Crazy crazy shit. Had dinner with Lances neighbours (awesome) and moved on to some play-your-own-music bar for after dinner drinks. Turns out nobody knows how to play the instrument they chose.

Went to the Irishmens house (they live together) and discussed absolute crap till about 30 minutes ago.

Leaving the country hasnt really factored into this process in any way yet. This I will regret.

Oh, and earlier today I went to fish markets, Reppungi (Lost In Translation hotel area), Tokyo tower, Harajuku (teenage ultra-fashion center of Japan), and Asakusan.

Im in a little hotel in Kyoto at the moment - sweating, hot, no air-conditioning, hung over from a night on sho-chu. Cicadas sound like infants would if infants could make mechanical noises when they scream. And they never stop.

When you come to Japan in the summer, bring short sleeved shirts and sandals. Everything is sacred, I spend a lot of time feeling clumsy and loud. There are beautiful temples everywhere. When you come here you need Lance and Aki.

The food is delicious, MasterCard fucking sucks (fuck you MasterCard) technology is advanced but also sometimes old and clunky. Narrow streets and many girls in kimonos everywhere. How the fuck can you wear a kimono in this weather???

Cant upload any photos from here - dont have the software probably, and Im too damn hot sitting here. Ill update when I get back to Lances house in Tokyo.

This place is awesome.

I think I'm going crazy. This morning I considered the fact that I am going to have no computer in 2 weeks time. This triggered a chain of thoughts that led inevitably to a singularity: I am going to buy a MacBook.

Why am I about to do this? It goes against every ingrained instinct I've cultivated in my recent 'saving for travel mode' commitments. For the last three months I have really put myself out to scrimp and save - well, I have gone to great lengths... I guess I haven't really gone out of my way, but it has been on my mind a lot, in any case.

I went home after a pub dinner the other night instead of hanging with Shaun at a nightclub. That counts as saving.

This morning I was overcome with the woes of nerd forethought - what would I do without a computer? I need a MacBook. Foolishly I turned to Scroop for dissuading advice, hoping for some words of counsel that might pull me from this fiscal promontory:

Paul I'm thinking of getting a laptop

Scroop Do it.

In desperation I tried to consider options other than the MacBook (about double the price of comparable non-Apple products):

Paul What's the best pc alternative that you know of?
Paul I mean, if you weren't to buy a macbook

Scroop Probably a MacBook Pro.
Paul ...

Scroop or a MacBook in black

Anyway, I'm thinking the 2GHz MacBook Pro is looking pretty good. On the other hand, I challenge you to find something that costs $3,200 that doesn't look good.

My plan from here is this: I will buy the MacBook Pro. Yes, Apple can have their pound off me. But my tourniquet for my travel expenses will be in a new 6 month interest free period on a new credit card. I discovered this morning that one can get a credit card that offers 6 months interest free on transfer debts, as well as no yearly rates and free international transactions. This seems almost awesome, as even with all that the interest rate is about 3% lower than my regular altitude card.

So yes, I have done some research. This doesn't turn me into one of those money centric people though. Just an idiot.

And yes, I also should mark this date as the moment I stopped fooling myself by imagining that I am not a consumer product whore of the lowest calibre. I remember fondly the days where I walked proudly without a mobile phone because I didn't want to be a slave to the Telcos. Farewell young pinko Paul, and may flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.

I am giving the Internet 24 hours to talk me out of buying a MacBook Pro. I don't want to do it, so it shouldn't be hard people! Please talk me out of it.