JustAnne.

V Festival 2009 - Gold Coast

It has been a very long time since I have been to a music festival for the music. I usually go for a good day with good friends with the added bonus of good music. So naturally, it has been a while since I have enjoyed a music festival as much as I enjoyed V Fest this year.

I was reminded how much 'nicer' V Fest is compared to other festivals. Their addition of more 'old school' bands usually leads to a very mixed crowd that works very well. And while there are still your regiments of Dickheads, security does a remarkable job of controlling them. Not too mention all the social sanctioning - very impressive V-Fest-Goers. I also felt that this year they finally got the toilet-to-festival-goer ratio just about right. And the toilets were so well maintained! Not a single one ran out of toilet paper!! But the toilets were just one small (although significant) part of what made the festival so fab. What made it fab were . . . 

Duffy!

The beautiful Welsh Blonde Bombshell and a little lady with a very big voice. What can I say? She was an utter delight to see live. She played in the early afternoon, which was the absolute perfect time to get your Duffy groove on. And while at one point I was madly applying another round of sunscreen to my not-so-sun-smart-self, my groove on I did get. Most fabulous! 

(Please Note: my complete and and utter lack of sun-smartness. What is coming over me in my old age? Photo courtesy of the Luscious Lindsay)

Elbow!

 

Okay, I have only very, very recently been introduced to this amazing band. Indeed, I have known of them for only a week. But oh, what a week! It was strongly recommended that I see these guys live and I was not disappointed. I think my friend said it best when he said "Any band that enters the stage with three trumpets and bugle, automatically win my respect". The moment for me was when the lead introduced a song with the statement "This is the song I wrote the day after I fell in love, with the woman I am in love with". And then he played the song I have been obsessing over all week (Mirrorball). And oh! My heart!! She sighed and then swooned. And then I had eye contact moments with the lead during the song, which was only slightly uncomfortable (usually I find this very uncomfortable). Needless to say, I went out and bought their album today.

Snow Patrol!

Sigh. These guys really are my band. And they were the reason I attended the festival. These guys have been with me through my early twenties for all my silly crushes, bad share house experiences and have travelled the world with me. And it was so wonderful to finally see them live. They were the first band I have ever seen dedicate most, if not all of their songs to the other acts of the day, and do it genuinely. A reflection, I think, of lil' Gary L's love of all things music. A love I know of as an occasional reader of his not-so-frequently updated, but wonderful blog. I tell ya, when a performer loves what they are doing and the world they are a part of it really is felt by the audience.

I staked out a very comfortable possie near the front of the stage and was happily situated with the other 'die-hards'. Another thing I love about V - you can be right down the front (to the side) for one of the headlining bands, and still have space to rock out. And rock out I did. You know, I can't remember the last band I saw where I knew all of the words to all of the songs - I think it may have been as far back as Regurgitator, which was, well, in high school. And you can just imagine how excited I got when the second song they played was one of my most favourite songs - Chocolate. I have never really been able to articulate why I love this song so much. It just speaks to me.

Earlier in the day I had mused that it would be cool if at some point during Snow Patrol it would rain. The combination of rain and music I love is a very special thing for me. I think it's a Bollywood Thing. That, and the fact that I am a stupidly hopeless romantic. And, well, it started raining. And then they played Chasing Cars. And no shit, it was one of the most beautiful moments in this little life-o-mine thus far. It was a total travesty that I had no one to share it with, but at the same time it was oddly appropriate. And yes, being the big sook that I am, I nearly cried. I nearly cried again later during Open Your Eyes as the song built up. I think I was still reeling from the rain and the Chasing of the Cars (it had stopped raining at this point).

Clearly seeing Snow Patrol was a bit emotional for me, and my reactions were certainly a first as far as my live-band experiences go. I walked away in a fuzzy haze of contentment, which can only be a good thing.

(anticipating Snow Patrol - and would you believe there is a substantial amount of vodka in that slush puppie? It was like drinking a really big Cruiser. This was not actually a good thing)

After Snow Patrol, things were a little blurry. By all accounts the Kaiser Chiefs and the Killers kicked bottom. There was another special rain moment during the Killers when it started pelting down. I remember thinking that if they played Mr. Brightside (the only Killers song I really give a damn about) I would just about lose it. And then they played Mr. Brightside. And me, and several thousand people totally lost it. It was pretty friggin' awesome. Although fifteen minutes later when the festival finished, the cold, wet reality of the rain sank in.

And here we are, wet, bedraggled and waiting for shuttle buses.

 

All in all, a most fabulous day!

Awww.

Just remembered that I had written the following quote about love on a piece of hotel notepaper and stashed it in my Tokyo guidebook.

He does not even understand that love cannot grow unless there is at least a complete and mutual understanding. - Soseki Natsume, 1905, "I Am a Cat"

Man,

I really love this photo. It is not the most flattering of shots, but if there ever was a photo that captured an evening - this is it.

Now. I really must stop dicking around on the internet and start packing . . . 

Choices, Choices.

I need to . . . 

• Refill my car's wiper fluid - I like a clean screen, and it is filthy.
• Affix my current rego sticker to my windscreen - only a month overdue now.
• Book my car in for a service - four months overdue or 1,000km overdue.
• Clean my car out so I am no longer embarrassed by it.
• Get the car washed, there is a lot of poop on it.
• Do the dishes, they're starting to get a little bit wrong.

Instead, I am heading to the Gold Coast for a long weekend that will involve vodka, live music and lazying seedily on a beach. It is clearly the more grown-up thing to be doing.

I Coulda Sworn I Didn't Have Problem.

Okay. So I saw Confessions of a Shopaholic last weekend, a thoroughly delightful film. And not just because it features a red head in a fabulous purple dress that pulls a totally gorgeous fellow. It also makes my own shopping and wardrobe seem so modest. That was until I returned home and started unpacking my Tokyo goods.

There were a lot of things like scarves, make-up cases, bento boxes, banana cases, crazy badges, jams, a dress, some t-shirts, six pairs of socks and a blazer. Not too mention the kitschy fabric. When it came to fitting all of this new stuff into my granny flat I was forced to confront the Inconvenient Truth - that perhaps, maybe, I have too many things. The tragedy? I came back from Japan with a very clear idea about what further items I need to obtain through the autumn and winter season, you know, to complete my 'look'.

So today I went through my wardrobe and ditched a few things. Mostly pajamas, old sweaters and the occasional purse. And! I now have more room for new things.

New things may very well include the gorgeous purple trench coat I have been eyeing off at Portmans for over a month. I had moved on, but then it appeared in a Westfield shopping catalogue inserted into the latest InStyle magazine. On the cover. So I am thinking that Destiny must want me to have that purple trench coat, right?

Okay. So maybe I do have a problem . . . . 

Goals.

You know, I was sure that I had some kind of incredibly witty and insightful observation to share, but it currently alludes me. And while I do not want to overexcite you, it was very likely life-changing information. But as it stands it is quite late and I am sleepy. So I will just share with you my week so far.

My week of holiday post-Japan to potter around the house and hone my sewing skills has so far involved little-to-no pottering and zero sewing. Which is a little bit disappointing. Instead I have found myself sleeping in and then racing to catch up with various people who have been overseas/having babies or folk I haven't seen in a while. This has been very wonderful and lovely, but I really must try and squeeze in a walk/run sometime so I can play with my new Nike+, which accompanies my new Nano (I have lost my Shuffle somewhere in the granny flat - curse this small technology!). I am also trying to decide if I should pick up the Wii Fit I have on lay-by or get a pair of shoes. I am a woman torn between spending money on gadgets and fashion - why does life have to be so hard? I mean, seriously.

In other news, I was not overly impressed with Destiny's placement of me in the right time and place to attend my WW meeting tonight. I had completely intended not to go, wanting to have a week of detox (not being helped by all of this catching up business) before I faced those scales. But it seems Destiny had other plans. Through a string of coincidence and my own capacity to rabbit on to people, I found myself jumping off a bus at Indooroopilly Shoppingtown just ten minutes before my meeting was due to begin. 

Bloody Destiny. It was a particularly harsh weigh-in, revealing a near 3 kilo holiday weight gain. But that is ok. Sort of. I knew it had to be a reasonably high number. I got into a top the other day and noted that my boobs were huge. I had either gained a few kilos or I was sheltering our next Messiah in my womb. And while I maintain some sort of relationship with Destiny, it is certainly not that kind of relationship. And so, my trek back to goal begins - oooh maybe when I get there I can have a pair of shoes?! Yes!! That is exactly the kind of motivation I need. Black Patent Leather Mary-Jane Heels - here I come!!

The Toilets of Japan

As I sit in my own bed, enjoying the softness of the mattress and the company of my pooch, I find myself reflecting on my time in Japan. And then I realised that I had not completed my report on their toilets. So here goes.

The toilets of Japan both confuse and overwhelm me. And it is important for me to comment that I am still in a state of abject shock that my first ever squat toilet experience was in Japan. A country where they have sections of their department stores dedicated to electronic toilet seats, remains a country where you have to squat in most public toilets (train stations, parks etc). They even have the squat option at the airport, only there it is called "Japanese Style". Although from a Western perspective, the use of "Japanese Style" in reference to toilets conjures the image of the electronic, seat-warming style of loo. Hence my confusion.

I must also confess to being somewhat frightened by the operations of the electronic style loos. The first time I used one the sound of running water began as I sat down and scared the bejesus out of me. It consequently took me ages to convince my delicate bladder that it was okay to empty itself. Turns out this is what is called "Preparation", which is designed to encourage your bladder, but also hide the sound of evacuation. Preparation was something I began to understand and appreciate towards the end of my stay. There were lots of other functions on the seats that I was afraid to use. The concept of a bidet has always filled me with a feeling of mild dread, and I have to say that I let this emotion rule my experiences of toilets in Japan. 

What can I say? There was a time in my life that I would not use public toilets. Indeed, it is only thanks to my overly sensitive tummy that I can now go number 2 in public toilets, an ability I only gained at the age of 19. And you can be absolutely certain that I did not use the squat toilets until it was completely unavoidable. I had avoided it until then because, and I quote, "I am neither psychologically or emotionally prepared for that". So really, I should be quite proud of myself for using. Yay me! Maybe on my next visit I can work myself up to trying the bidet. Maybe . . . 

Fare-thee-well.

By a fantastic stroke of luck, my father decided that we should return to Tokyo today and stay overnight before flying home tomorrow. Well, 'stroke of luck' is perhaps not the right turn of phrase, my father's decision makes complete logical sense to anyone who is well-enough versed in his inner-workings. But seeing as there are only a few of us privileged enough to have this insight, it could be considered a remarkable stroke of luck to the rest of the world.

So I have managed to indulge in some leisurely shopping and have splurged on my very own LeSportSac overnight bag, the price of which we shall not discuss. But I have seen so many of them while I have been here, and I love them, and I do not think it would have been right to return home without one. They have become so 'Tokyo' to me. Anyways, after my final pre-duty-free shop, I found myself indulging in a cream-based-orange-honey-frappacino and a cinnamon scroll at the Starbucks overlooking Shibuya Crossing. Totally not WW friendly. Indeed, this trip has not been WW friendly. I am very afraid of fronting up to those scales when I get home, but that is a whole other issue. As I was hoeing into my incredibly delicious frappacino I was struck by just how stylish people are here.

I know, I know, this has been said many, many times, but I have just not seen anything like it before. The people of London and New York are very well dressed and well presented, but in Tokyo it is different. I think the people here have more a individualised style, and they certainly seem to take more risks with their fashion. And there are so many shops here that every taste can be catered to. And even if people are wearing the same shoes or the same coat, there are so many other elements of their look that no one really looks the same. Clearly this is something that appeals to me, in fact, I love it. So perhaps that is what I have loved the most about Tokyo - that people can express their own personal style freely and look so damn good because of it. And I am soooo inspired about how to build up my own wardrobe this winter, I am already starting to think about the key items I shall seek out and lay-by upon my return (patent black leather mary-jane heels, knee high leather boots in red, more mini skirts and dresses, more tights and more thigh-high socks).

And then, as I meandered through the crowds towards the train station Franz Ferdinand blasts out across the crossing. That is another thing I have loved about Tokyo, it is never quite what you expect, even when you have no idea what to expect.

Tuesday 10 March 2009 – Missing Tokyo

So I find myself holed up in a small hotel in Happo-one at the bottom of a ski slope. To be wholly honest I am not inclined to ski, and much to my good fortune my father has forbidden it due to the ‘intensity and gradient’ of the beginner slopes. Apparently, I am not a good enough skier. He is probably right.

So instead I am planning a day trip to see some monkeys and generally just sleeping in and chilling out. I am finding myself missing Tokyo’s mammoth department stores and shopping malls. There are a few chintzy shops here but not many but I have stumbled upon the Best Lip Balm Ever, which I am rather excited about purchasing later today.

Indeed, I have been rather grieved to leave the craziness of Tokyo and the enjoyable company of Claire and her posse. In fact it would seem that my ’09 holidaying, which has been designed to alleviate my itchy feet has only served to aggravate them further. I now seem to being toying more frequently with the concept of moving overseas next year, provided the absence of some kind of earth-shattering life-changing thing of fabulousness happening in the next 12 months. I think it will have to be something pretty amazing to keep me here, definitely one of the big three – love, house, job. Although if the history of my life in Brisbane is anything to go by, things will probably remain as they are, which I am totally not ready to abide by. So upon my return home I think I shall make some gentle enquiries into the life of a social worker in Canada.

On a lighter note I have so many instances of fabulousness and interesting moments from my time in Tokyo that I want to share, but I could be at the computer all week. And I do not want to miss out on the Monkeys that Swim in Hot Springs. But here is my definite highlight:

As my previous mobile-blog post (goodness knows how much that is going to end up costing me!) suggests, I found myself rocking in a Tokyo nightclub to such fabulous ditties as Sweet Home Alabama and Beyonce’s Crazy in Love and Single Ladies. The exciting part was that not once, but twice, I was hauled up onto a podium to dance with varying groups of Japanese gals. Now you know me, I am not a woman who shies away from a podium. I rocked it with the ladies. And then one of the Japanese gals told me she liked my dress. It was very exciting. Later, Madonna’s Like A Virgin was played and I daggy danced my little heart out, and the Japanese ladies loved it. There was a line of us on the podium rockin’ out. It was totally awesome, although it occurred to me a few days later that it was very Bridget Jones a la Thai Prison. And I had a little giggle to myself on the bus.

Wowsers

I can't believe i'm at a club in tokyo. And i'm rockin' to sweet home alabama. And beyonce! All the single ladies, put yo' hands up!