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Last night, I caught an interview on TV with Dr Cathy Foley, the Deputy Chief of Science at the CSIRO (Commonwealth Science and Industrial Research Organization) in Australia.

She believes that Australia needs to promote science more vigorously.

The bulk of the interview focused on the vast majority of Australian Nobel Prize winners in science winning their awards for work performed outside of Australia.

In defense, Dr Foley did point out the case of one Australian scientist who had earned a Nobel Prize for work within Australia, but went on to outline a number of reasons why, in her view, Australian scientists at home are mostly not recognized. She mentioned that we “do not play the game” as is done overseas. Notably though, she ended her list of reasons by saying that Australians do not like to promote themselves (in science!!) due to the Tall Poppy Syndrome[1].

It was not, I think, Dr Foley’s intention to link this Australian “tall poppy syndrome” with “brain drain” from Australia, (the latter further, (better?), explaining why Australians win the Nobel Prize almost only overseas), but the implication is difficult to overlook.

So why do Australians exhibit a tall poppy syndrome? (It is not unique to Australians: the Japanese do it although the reason in that case is due to Confucianism, as far as I understand.)

Many Australians would say it is due to a strong spirit of egalitarianism in Australia[2]. (But some of them, wary of negative connotations, might say Australians don’t exhibit the syndrome at all!)

A clue about this is given by the way Australians regard Americans, (in stereotype). Australians generally like Americans but Australian affection never precludes friendly abuse, (“teasing”, you might say). In fact, it requires it[3]. Significantly, Australians “rubbish” Yanks over their tendency to “big-note themselves”.

And so there it is. To be passionately involved in your own pursuits/exploits, and to speak of them, is to “big-note yourself”. To do that, it is thought, is perhaps to seek admiration from others — but, in any case, at their expense. It is to find yourself superior to others. And thereby to cut yourself out of the herd and to earn whispered condemnation and repudiation. So it is thought.

One does better by finding more neutral or reticent topics. It may take longer to get to know people — less as well — but it’s safer.

Yet Australians are extremely competitive in the most sportsmanlike fashion. Indeed, there are no better sportsmen than Australians, as any Ocker in any English pub would be happy to most unwelcomely expound[4]. But competitive: only about sport. All else is verboten[5].

So why are tall poppies slashed in Australia??

I, of course, do not know the answer for sure. Nor do I think asking an Australian would likely yield an accurate insight[6]. But I will venture two suggestions.

After many years overseas, spent very close to completely out of contact with the Australian culture, I moved to Japan and eventually to a cosmopolitan city within Japan, (the home, among other things, of KEK, the national, high-energy physics institute), and began to mix once again within an Australian expatriate community.[7]

With fresh eyes, I observed old and familiar traits and behaviors.

Suggestion number one is that Australians are culturally quite socially-inclined, (like the Irish, perhaps, but not as much so). They hanker for acceptance within a group, to be well-liked, to bathe in “mate-ship”, to deal in witty repartee, to affectionately “put the boot into” one’s mates, (i.e. rib or drub them)[8], to give as good as one gets, and, ultimately, to behave compatibly and predictably. Here is Australian egalitarianism in its finery: subjugation of self to group?

Suggestion number two is the obvious but no doubt hotly-disputed claim that Australia, former prison colony, still possesses a passive-aggressive culture. “You can ask us to work, but be careful how much you expect.” (Recently, I watched a colleague ride the clutch of a vehicle all the way back to depot from a job in an attempt to burn it out or anyway shorten its life, in order to exact retribution from his employer for some secret grievance.) In Australian group-think, anyone working hard or trying to excel, is putting the rest to shame and/or under pressure to work harder.[9] There is a code of silence in the Australian workplace.

How would I like to change Australians? Truthfully: not at all. Australians are as they wish to be.

For those few who will not or cannot fit in, go ahead and leave.


[1]

Aristotle uses Herodotus’ story in his Politics, (Book 5, Chapter 10) referring to Thrasybulus’ advice to Periander to “take off the tallest stalks, hinting thereby, that it was necessary to make away with the eminent citizens”. In Livy’s account, the tyrannical Roman King, Tarquin the Proud, received a messenger from his son Sextus Tarquinius asking what he should do next in Gabii, since he had become all-powerful there. Rather than answering the messenger verbally, Tarquin went into his garden, took a stick, and symbolically swept it across his garden, thus cutting off the heads of the tallest poppies that were growing there. The messenger, tired of waiting for an answer, returned to Gabii and told Sextus what he had seen. Sextus realised that his father wished him to put to death all of the most eminent people of Gabii, which he then did.

“The phrase has been in current use since Jack Lang, Premier of New South Wales, described his egalitarian policies as “cutting the heads off tall poppies” in 1931. Prior to becoming British Prime Minister, Margaret Thatcher explained her philosophy to an American audience as “let your poppies grow tall”.

[2] and there is most definitely a strong spirit of egalitarianism in Australia. And a gleeful readiness to cut men down to size.

[3] I learned a hard lesson about this in the US, when I lost a good friend, (an American), because of this cultural difference.

[4] my uncle still brags about being thrown out of an English pub for complaining loudly, long and with venom about the warm temperature of English beer

[5] but note that drinking is considered a sport in Australia:

His academic achievements were complemented by setting a new world speed record for beer drinking: a yard glass (approximately 3 imperial pints or 1.7 litres) in eleven seconds. In his memoirs, Hawke suggested that this single feat may have contributed to his political success more than any other, by endearing him to a voting population with a strong beer culture.

[6] since self-contemplation is such a subjective exercise.

[7] and once again soon finding myself an outsider.

[8] some tellingly link this to the level of homophobia in classical Australian society, (though now significantly eased off). You chase women, but you love your mates. But you have to be ever-so-careful in the expression of that affection. You may verbally bash your mate in front of your friends, (and get some back), to make it clear that you are not “poofters”.

[9] and I readily admit that, now upon my return to Australia after 25 years and some considerable mellowing in my own understanding of wage slavery, I see some logic in the view that the nowadays employer is no friend of the worker.

[This controversy was triggered by Mark Webber who is admittedly not a genius.]


What is a "nanny state"?
Wiktionary defines it as, "a state whose [sic] government institutions are authoritative and over-paternalistic, interfering with and controlling people's lives."
I will add that a nanny state seeks to lead or override the personal decision-making of its citizens: a) the stated objective being their greater welfare; b) on the basis that the government is better qualified to micro-manage; and c) often on a case-by-case, seemingly capricious, administrative basis.  Social engineering is in strong evidence.  And there is often "iron fist" enforcement inside the velvet glove, a) since persistent resistance is usually present, b) revealing something of the true motivation behind the nanny state, (exercising brutal control).
In a nutshell, the government of a nanny state patronizes its citizens as children, not fully capable of making their own responsible decisions. Through feedback, those citizens relinquish responsibility and perhaps thoughtfulness and become accustomed to being coddled.  Government intervention becomes essential as the first response, (even before it is needed).
Safety or insurance costs to the general herd are often cited in defense of some of the practices of a nanny state.
What concerns me here is not whether a "nanny state" is a good thing or a bad thing.  Clearly, in a society which (largely) accepts its nanny state as the norm, it is a good thing.  Isn't it?
What piques my curiosity is that societies that choose to organize themselves as nanny states and are quite smugly content with the results nevertheless stridently object to the term "nanny state".  Why is that, I wonder?  Why do I not hear, "we are a nanny state — and mighty proud of it!"?
Is Australia a nanny state?
You decide.
I left Australia in 1984 and returned for my first visit in 1999.  Taking a taxi from Sydney airport, I was shocked to see a sign on the dashboard of the taxi, setting out on one side, the dozen or so responsibilities of the taxi driver, such as to be sober, make correct change, take the shortest, efficient route, to be dressed and groomed neatly; and on the other half, the dozen or so responsibilities of the passenger: to be sober, avoid coarse language, pay the full fare as requested, keep knives sheathed and refrain from love-making in the rear seat.
Several years later, my friend, Fabrizio, announced he was moving from Japan to Sydney to study for a PhD.  "Back to kindergarten for you, then", was my comment to him.  Later, he said, "you were right about that".  One story he told was about riding his motorcycle too fast down a Sydney artery.  He hadn't quite acquired the knack for fearing speed cameras, I suppose.  The authorities had parked two camera cars on that road separated by just exactly whatever the statutory distance is supposed to be — the result: not one speeding ticket, but two.  Nearly 500$ and SIX demerit points.*
I have now returned to Australia and this is the first time in my life that I have lived in a country where it is compulsory for adults to wear helmets while bicycling.  I've never needed one until now and I doubt the statistics justify the inconvenience.  But that's not my decision to make.  40$ for the helmet and the discomfort of wearing it.  One day, I will be late and rush out of the house forgetting that helmet and I can bet the constabulary on that day will be waiting down at the next corner for me, ready to hold me up for 20 minutes while they write out a ticket.  (Maximum penalty: 2,000$.)  Thank you for caring…
Government advertising.  (Social engineering.)  When a government ad comes on, I stab down on the channel changer post-haste.  I cannot stand Australian "safety" ads.  (If the remote control does not fall immediately to hand, I throw a shoe at the TV.)  These ads are vicious.  And sometimes heart-breaking.  "We are doing this for your own good (even if you are not actually guilty of the anti-social behavior we are targeting today)", translates to "we do not have to respect the norms of simple decency".  I wish I could find the example on YouTube of the ad I hate the most.  Really decent looking people, a couple, get into a car and drive off.  She tells him really gently that he shouldn't be driving because he took a "toke", (I don't know what that means.)  After a minute, he stops the car to get out and let her drive.  As he steps out, some blur, doing about 1.5 times the speed of light whisks him away with the approximate noise: BLAT!!  (The speed limit in Australia is 25 kph during roadworks and the whole place seems to be getting dug up all the time, so it's hard to understand how whatever hit him could have been traveling faster than a bullet train…)  The camera pans to give you a very quick glimpse, just enough to know that this nice young guy who one time made the horrible mistake of challenging Australian society on what is correct behavior, has been blasted to chunks of dog meat lying, now unrecognizable, on the side of the road about 50 metres downstream — and then pans back to the love of his life, who is now understandably throwing a hysterical, screaming, mental fit.  Just what I want my 3 year-old to see.  THIS AD IS COMPLETELY DESPICABLE.  That was then; this is now: I don't watch TV here any more.
Picture me sitting at a table in a nice, Italian restaurant in Box Hill.  The food is great and I have a nice beer in front of me.  But I am not enjoying it so much.  There is a large poster on the wall facing me stating that patrons acting intoxicated will be fined 12,000$.  Hmm, something wrong with my beer — it doesn't seem to be working…  Twelve thousand dollars or chop my tongue out so I never taste beer again — the penalty is irrelevant: the message is that there is a way to behave, it has been decided and you will tow the line.
Australia is now rivaling China in terms of internet filtering and censorship.  You can't object because the government is only filtering child molestation, snuff movies and climate change skeptics.  Well who knows what they are filtering: they kept it a secret until some wag leaked the list.  (If they catch whomever did that, you can bet they'll pull his driving licence for life…)
So what am I objecting to?  Nothing at all.  Not even the psychopathic "public service" ads.  I can always change the channel.  Stop watching TV.  Give up going to restaurants, shopping centres, …  No, I am not objecting to the nanny state.
Let me say that Australians, by and large, are very happy with the way things are organized here.  (Except for many young people who rebel, spending their night hours performing "burn-outs" or drag racing on the side streets or finding victims to "glass" or rallying to the beach to "welcome" immigrants…)  Oh yeah, that brings up another subject, doesn't it: be very, very careful how you discipline Australian children; one breath to the neighbors, friends or teachers about any kind of perceived "abuse" (e.g. corporal punishment) and they are off to a series of foster homes.
All I am asking is that Australians man-up and say, "we ARE a nanny state — and damn proud of it, too!".
But the thing is, Australians do not realize they live in a nanny state.  It is all they have ever known.
* Australians are a very sporting people.  They always keep their eye on the competition.  When others make a mistake and fall, Australians say "GOTCHA!" with great glee.  So the two speeding tickets on one day for a struggling student — the double jeopardy — is Australia's way of saying, "Gotcha, Fabrizio…".
The Dear Leader of Nanny States (the UK)
Here's an article about banning smoking in cars: on the pretext that it harms children — whether or not there are any in the car.  (@NDC: no more Ken-bashing videos on the drive home, mate; not with a fag lit up, anyway.  Could be used in evidence against you!)
Here's an article about Irish social workers confiscating a newborn baby (see below) from its parents, on behalf of British social workers, because the mother was "not clever enough to raise a child", nor to understand the commitment of marriage.  (Shocking and unbelievable, yeah?  Here's corroboration.)
And, not an isolated incident: here is something similar happening to British parents, on the run in Spain from social workers.



Proud mother: Kerry Robertson and Ben, who she isn't allowed to bring up


A couple who fled to Ireland after social workers threatened to remove their baby at birth have had the newborn snatched after all.


Kerry Robertson, 17, who has mild learning difficulties, and Mark McDougall, 25, went on the run after British social services said she was not clever enough to raise a child.


But just four days after Ben was born, Irish social workers marched into the maternity ward and forced them to hand him over.


Read on

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In my very first blog post, Leaving Japan, I referred to the culmination of a long odyssey.  I knew then that I should have to write about how that odyssey commenced.

In November, 1981, at the tender age of 26, I quit my job, assigned power of attorney to a friend, packed a suitcase, pulled the front door shut for the last time and rode to the airport of my home-town, Adelaide, Australia, to board a flight toward a country I had heard a lot about, but never before visited.  My intention was emigration.  My first destination was San Francisco.

Arriving in San Francisco, I rented a car, checked into an airport hotel and then placed a call to Harvey Poenack, in Bethesda, MD.  No answer.

The business of Harvey Poenack International was three-fold: 1) immigration specialist, 2) head-hunter, 3) tax accountant.  Harvey brought foreigners into the USA to work.  I had entered the USA in possession of an H-1 visa, authorizing me to work for Harvey.  But I was now unable to make contact with my agent.

To kill time, I drove into downtown San Francisco, milled around awhile and then proceeded to circumnavigate the Bay via bridge and freeway.  It was the first time I had driven on the opposite side of the road.  I marveled at six-lane freeways, (per side!).  I observed drivers turning right on red lights and, after building up my own nerve (was it legal?), pulled the same stunt.  I found a diner nearby the airport and the quantity, quality and price of the food, along with the endless coffee refills, was remarkable to me.  Plus the service was as cheery as it was snappy.  Tipping was new to me.  So was putting down a fiver for something marked 4.95$, but then finding one needed some extra change as the register rang up the total with the sales tax added on top.  (Taxes are generally well-hidden in Australia.)

The plan was to interview for a week on the west coast; then fly to the east coast for another week of interviews.  Harvey answered the phone.  The economy was in deep recession ('81/82).  All he had for me was a lone interview in Washington.  State.  I booked a flight one-way, planning to rent a car and drive back down Route 1 by the Pacific, if the interview failed.

As the 727 banked right to turn 180 southbound for Sea-Tac airport, I was presented with a magnificent view of the Seattle skyline, Space Needle and Lakes Aurora and Washington.  All the wooden houses connoted a shanty town to an untraveled Australian, but I think I fell in love with Seattle right there and then.  I had been quite disappointed to think that I was coming to, (for me), the most exciting country in the world and was looking at being marooned in the furthest corner of the Forty-Eight.  But the natural beauty of Puget Sound, Lake Washington, the Olympics, Cascades and Mount Rainier was too overwhelming to resist.

The rental car company in the airport did not want to rent me a car without a credit card.  I showed them the contract I had for the rental from their San Francisco branch and so they happily relented.  Man, this was so long ago!  Credit cards optional.  Service.  Trust.  How things have changed!

I checked into the Thunderbird Lodge in Bellevue, just in time for Thanksgiving lunch.  (Americans are almost all surprised to learn that other countries don't celebrate Thanksgiving.  Makes you wonder how much American history they really know, doesn't it?  ;)   )

The interview was with an American affiliate of a German database company.  HQ in Reston, VA, and an engineering team of about 50 people in Bellevue, Washington.  (Just a couple of miles away from Bellevue a small but malignantly cancerous company was metastasizing in adjacent Redmond, WA.)  I got hired.  By the database company.

I theorize that I am just slightly agoraphobic.  Thus, I prefer an overcast sky.  I know that is weird.  There are two kinds of people: those who can hack constant drizzle and those who can't.  Seattle is no place for those who have no affinity for the rain gods and the locals accept this philosophically as a gift (to keep away the Californian sun-worshippers who wouldst resettle there).  Perhaps Seattle is the Valhalla of people who, like the Douglas Adams character, are unknowingly rain gods, attracting precipitation in all its dreary forms, unbidden? In any case, they also believe that there is no finer place on the earth — not in August and September, anyway, the only months during which the drizzle abates.  However, I was not to experience those months in Seattle…

For the first six weeks, I stayed with very distant relatives, Henry and Jenny and their 18-month old son, in Kirkland on the NE shore of Lake Washington.  That was a great introduction to restaurants, shops and friends.  We became great friends and I think Henry and Jenny particularly appreciated the in-house, baby-sitting services!

I have very fond memories of Seattle.  My first time seeing snow falling: those large, whirling flakes that create the mental illusion of a whirring sound even though the snow fall is actually deadening most noise.  Driving down I-405 with crisp views of the snow-caps on the Cascades on one side and the Olympics on the other.  The giant, snowy apex of Mt Rainier to the south, magnified by wood smoke and suspended above the haze, as if floating.  Watching ducks show off, flaring for a water-landing in the moat around the office park, feet extended forward for splash-down and wings cupped, braking.  Seeing the same ducks attempting the same maneuvre the morning after an overnight snap freeze, falling backward on their rumps onto the ice, coming gradually to a halt after a gently cork-screwing slide, embarrassed and furtively looking around for now-unwanted spectators.

Seattle people staying home from work and school after a single inch of snow-fall.  Avoiding the very few out on the roads like the plague, due to their inexperience with snow.  I discovered Saturday Night Live and it was in the John Belushi era.  I was invited to Christmas parties and found people very hospitable and friendly.  I saw a very early flight simulator operating on a very early PC.  And I remember one conversation in which I was told earnestly that, if the Russkies ever did decide to invade the US of A, they would quickly become surprised and consternated by the level of gun ownership in America: "go ahead, pry our weapons from our cold, dead fingers!!"; much like Afghanistan, I suppose.  :)   People walking on their right-hand side of the sidewalk (they don't any more) and arranging their shopping carts accordion-style in supermarket check-out queues so as not to block other shoppers.  Receiving pleasant greetings from strangers.

Finally I moved to Bellevue, renting an apartment.  I had settled in at work and it had ramped up.  I wasn't technically so busy but the rest of the team were working about 90 hours a week.  I gritted my teeth and put in about 70, just for solidarity.  I still seemed to be spending all my time at work.  A very difficult adjustment for an Australian of that era, even one that liked to work.

In addition, at work, I felt like I was "hitting the wall".  I think every engineer goes through this and must learn to adapt.  It was the first time I had worked with so much code, written by so many other people with different coding styles, so many of them long departed, but with just the usual amount of documentation.  Next to none.  I was getting frustrated and not enjoying the work.  I started looking around for other possibilities.  The recession had deepened.  Nothing doing.

I called United Airlines to book a flight to the east coast to go meet Harvey.  The sales representative told me over the phone that only "coach" was available on the day I wanted to travel.  I didn't have time to cross the country by bus, so I politely declined and hung up.  (We call the back of the airplane, "economy class", in Australia.)  I never did get to meet Harvey.  :(

(Speaking of which is a good time to mention a lesson learned: when you have the opportunity to do something, seize it.  All the while in Seattle, I heard good things about Vancouver, the only outside place Washingtonians will say good things about.  I deferred making a day trip there because I was renting a car on a miles-limited, monthly basis.  It wasn't until 2006 that I again had a good chance to finally visit Vancouver.  Washingtonians say "Vancouver, B.C." to distinguish it from plain "Vancouver", meaning Vancouver, WA.  Like "Paris, France", as opposed to just Paris.  Texas.  :) )

I called a colleague in Australia.  One I had dealt with in Australia only by phone, inter-company.  I asked for a reference, but he refused.  Rather, he offered me a job in Sydney.  Working for a computer company, in a telephone support centre.  (Which is how I had made his acquaintance: over the phone.)  But it was a large, American, multi-national, computer company and I conceived the idea of working for this company in Australia and then transferring back to the USA.  (This would turn out to be a crazy idea.)

I was by now quite despondent and so I buckled and surrendered the dream.  I phoned Sydney and accepted the job offer.  I felt then that it was weak of me and I still do to this day.  My chattels had only just arrived at the docks in Tacoma — just in time to be turned around and sent back.

I left the USA at the end of March, 1982, after only a little over four months.  Just enough to have a tantalizing taste of American life and truly whet my appetite.  The experience had been exhilarating, albeit bitter-sweet.

I returned to Australia, discouraged and with my tail between my legs.

[I was to learn several months later that the Bellevue development center had been closed down for relocation to Reston and all but three of the Bellevue engineers had left the company.  My office-mate, Floyd, had joined the Redmond company then in 1982 and had gone to work on becoming an early-retiring millionaire.]

If you've read this far, congratulations and thank you.  :)

I am intentionally going to avoid writing any kind of comparison of the two countries, (and am not at all confident I could do a competent and objective job of such a comparison, anyway).

This next part is the one I have been dreading to write.  What made me want to move from Australia to the USA?  To try to explain, I need to interpret the motivation of my former self, 28 years ago.  It's painfully introspective for me to do and will no doubt seem trite.  I recognize that self and recall some of what he was thinking, but it now seems implausible and, frankly, somewhat risible to me today.

There were three, main factors.

The first factor is the most easily defensible.  In those days, for a computer engineer, the USA was very definitely the centre of gravity of the computing world. That's changed a lot now with globalization and particularly the internet, but it was certainly true then.  I've had a most rewarding career and it is impossible to imagine having done all the things I have done if I had not been in the United States to do them.  I learned very much during my career working with all of my colleagues in the United States (and a considerable number of those had also emigrated from elsewhere).

The principal factor must just be blurted out and suffer its natural judgement.  I loved the United States of America and did so with all my heart.

America was, for me, the land of liberty and I yearned above all to be free.  Call that young man an idealist, naive and a fool — and there was very much I did not know then — but I can see no reason for shame on his behalf.

The most momentous day in my childhood / teenage had been Monday, July 21st, 1969.  I arrived at school that morning to learn that the Eagle had landed at 5:47 am (my time).  The whole school spent the morning watching live transmissions beamed from Houston (and ultimately the moon) and at 12:26pm I watched an American set foot on the lunar surface.  The whole history of the world had changed: ante Mare Tranquillitatis had transitioned to post Mare Tranquillitatis.  How could one not marvel and be inspired?

The third factor was that I know that I had a number of blind-spots in those days that prevented me from fully appreciating the appeal of living in the "Lucky Country".  I.e. Australia.  If I had, it would likely not have prevented me from making the move, but it may have dampened my zeal and shortened my odyssey.  Who knows?

I said I would not compare the two countries, but there is one over-arching observation to be made that I think is helpful.  When my odyssey began, I believed that America was the place "to do".  Now, at the end of it, I believe that Australia is the place "to live".

Possibly this reflects, more than anything else, something of the metamorphosis that I underwent during my journey.

(continued in Exodus 2)

From: The Monday Morning Quarterback

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I've been biting my tongue for a couple of weeks now because my personal rule throughout all of my travels — well, more of a guideline really — is that I refuse to either suffer or exhibit "culture shock".  Decidedly unable to fly the flag on this one, though.

About telecommunications in Australia (phone and internet), and having consulted a Swiss friend who is a telecom expert and intimately familiar with Telstra and gang (and who, in conversation, provided the title for this post), I am quite speechless and so will quote the immortal Marlon Brando upon the subject: "the HORROR…"

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Well, I hesitate to write this as it is merely a first impression — I have been back less than a week — but the main change in Australia in the last 25 years… seems to be in the beer.

When I left, Australians were indisputably the world's most accomplished, and most tenacious, beer drinkers.  The only misconception, the world over, was about the beer itself: "Man!  I can tell from the way you swill that hefeweizen, you have trained on the very best beer, jah?.  Sooo… Australian beer; tell me: what is it like?".

Well.  Actually, no…  Olympic athletes train under the most rigorous of conditions.  Marathon runners, the same.  (Maybe the SAS is the example I am searching for…  :)   )

Australian beer, back then, was undoubtedly the world's most…  challenging course.  Naturally, I didn't yet know that.

  —

So I returned, this week, planning to allow myself three to six months to re-acclimatize to the local brew.  As events have unfolded, I have been most pleasantly greeted by a huge turn-around vis-a-vis the quality and variety of the national beer.

  —

Alas, I do now tremble mightily for our future Olympic status.  :)

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I'm talking gratuity.   Pourboire

Today I received my first tip.  In my whole life!  I grew up in Australia where there is no tipping.  I live in Japan where there is no tipping.  I owe Graham 30$ on my bar tab.  So what are the odds?

I used to have days in the IT biz when I swore I'd put a tip jar on my desk.  (All the time, now that I think about it.)  I might still be in that line of work if everyone who ventured into my cube had slipped a fiver into that jar.  (Ah, maybe not.)

Four joyous weddings today.  At the bottom of the third, the bride's mother slipped me the packet.  I'd heard it happens.  But not to me.  Not until now.

At home, I called my fellow Knight Templar, Father Graham, and he talked me through opening the packet.  5,000円.  That's 50 rallods.  One Ulysses S. Grant.  We are starting to talk real religion here.

IN GOD WE TRUST.  :)

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My first blog/post and coming at a strange juncture: the end of a long odyssey.

After 25 years absent, I am returning to the country of my birth — Australia.  I do not quite know how to feel about the prospect, but have determined to treat it as a new country and a new adventure.

About Japan, I think I will miss a) delicious, fresh, cheap sashimi; b) long, hot, deep baths; c) sakura, hanami, nihonshu.  And, of course, d) fast Internet…

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