Welcome back, family, friends, and co-workers, to my travelogue of my prosaic travels.   

I am in Japan, and thankful that my knee gave me less trouble than expected, despite having to lug my two suitcases up and down a few flights of stairs in Shinjuku. 

The “alpen rose” Japanese inflight magazine contained a “colmn” that centered on watchmaking in the Vallee de Joux, with a nice picture of the Lac de Joux from the Dent de Vaulion that I recognized immediately, having just been there.  Are they trying to get the Japanese off the beaten path, or are the Japanese bored with Switzerland? 

The white wine appetizer nearly put me to sleep, but I made the mistake of waking up for dinner.  I never fell asleep again, but not for lack of trying.  I watched “The Namesake,” an interesting movie on a second-generation Indian immigrant to the US coming to grips with his family.  Then I tried to sleep, until the ice cream came, and watched “Music and Lyrics,” a cute, breezy romance with more eighties sound than you’d ever wanted to hear on a movie soundtrack other than Footloose.  Then I tried to sleep, until breakfast came, and watched the beginning of “Ghost Rider,” a movie where the first few minutes of film suffice to instill confidence that it won’t matter if you don’t watch the whole flick.  Unless, that is, you enjoy Nicholas Cage with a flaming skull instead of a head.  Gratuitous and goofy special effects on top of a ridiculous story line that tries to get the viewer rooting for the Devil as the lesser of two evils than his rebellious and pasty-faced underling that wants to subject the world, because the Devil send Flaming Brains Cage into the fray in his stead.  Or so. 

I filled out the Chinese language immigration form by mistake.  I think I got everything right; I used the Spanish example to guide me. 

The customs girl asked me if I had anything to declare, any samples, and when I denied, asked me to open my smaller trolley suitcase.  I did; she identified the shoes, ignored the free pens and pocket knives, and finally found the microscope scan head.  “What is that?” she asked. 

“A microscope.  I sell microscopes.” 

“Oh, ok then.  Thank you and have a good day.” 

I’m still a little puzzled she didn’t pull me out.  How was she to know that I won’t leave the scan head here? 

I dropped off the big suitcase with the big microscope at our distributor’s office and walked through the love hotels to my Toyoko Inn.  A couple walked out of one of them and I wondered if it didn’t feel weird to walk in (or out) of one of them considering that you’re announcing to all present what you intend to do (or did) with whom. 

Now it’s about time to check in, after lunch at the Cafe WILL.  I’ll shower, shave, and change into my suit, and perhaps apply that removable tattoo I won from the Swatch airline ticket raffle to the nape of my neck.  The Japanese dig Godzilla – they’ll love my lizard tattoo.