its a mixed bag of responses you get when you ask a group of people about climbing mt.fuji... a 3776 metre volcano, sitting smack bang in the middle of japan.

our plan of attack was to start climbing at 8pm, and arrive at the summit before 4 am, just in time to see the sun rise, and hopefully beat the massive crowd working their way up to the top... i in hindsight foolishly agreed to this proposal. for by the time we reached the 8th station (2am) at an altitude of 3400m, i was dreaming about the comforts of a soft pillow, a warm bed, and a hot mug of coco when in reality i was hugging a cold, snow covered, volcanic boulder.

i was snapped out of my delirious state by my vibrating mobile... "hello?", "are you still alive?"... jeez, my mobile works at 3400m?! and my friend hands me a cup of hot coco, and then tells me we can get some ramen... If you can get noodles, and presumably order a pizza (whether they deliver is another matter ofcourse) from 3400m, then you can do it from anywhere in japan.

the final 400 odd metres was pure torture... fighting fatigue, burning thighs, and a distinct lack of oxygen. what spurred me to the summit was thoughts of a lush, warm, tropical paradise, full of bikini clad women serving mugs of hot coco, dancing to awesome beats of drum and bass... no wait, thats my thumping headache. and as the final indignity of being overtaken by a grandpa in surely his late 60s sunk in, i tripped and stumbled on the last step. it wasnt quite the tropical paradise island... it was more like "rocks", and "rocks" and more "rocks".

as we waited in the freezing winds (gets pretty windy up there) for the sun to rise, i looked around to see two guys boiling water to make coffee, and another guy sucking hard on a ciggarette. i suppose if youve come this far you deserve to have a smoke and a coffee. the sun finally showed itself to cheers from a bleary eyed crowd, while thousands more were snaking their way up to the peak. i looked down at the poor bastards making their way up, and suddenly realise that what comes up must come down.

Week 2 Post Sydney

the fresh smell of spew, that rancid, acidic vapour mixed in with whatever was had for dinner, greets me as i stumble out of the train... from the smell and sight of seeing half a dozen guys doubled over and wretching, and atleast 2 guys sleeping on the seats, i know my connecting train is long gone. as i walk towards the stairs the guy in front of me doubles over and starts his business. for fucks sake. unable to take the stench i side step the landmines and run up the stairs to see a whole group of middle aged men slumped against walls, and/or doubled over. those who can walk are looking dazed... i imagine this is what a hospital ward must look like after an outbreak of severe salmonella poisoning.

ive had a pretty big night myself. a night out with work colleagues which always ends up at karaoke... you can make a left or right turn but we always end up there.
its not everyday that your GM passes out at Karaoke... he's only had 2 drinks... pretty funny shit, I have my fun by dedicating a soulful rendition of Aerosmith's 'I don't want to miss a thing' sung so close to his face that I thought he'd surely wake up. Its not everyday that I take the piss with the GM but as I get to the last few bars, i realise that i just dont give a shit... I've had a fucking long and exhausting week... so much going on at the moment that i can't tell which way is up. i feel like ive been sucked under by a monster wave, tumbling and spinning, just hoping to be spat out on the surface cos i just dont have the energy to swim right now.