Stormy night, Japanese beer and a sense of belonging

There's a stormy feel tonight, the usual guitarists stringing away on the bridge in the park, the smell of fresh sweet potato fills the station as the last train trundles in. And above it all is a moon that somehow seems bigger than it should - overgrown and like a cartoon storm moon.

I return from a save article 9 (the promise of peace embedded in the Japanese constitution and under threat by Abe san as well as Koizumi's expansion of SDP force missions..) event and karaoke with my dear daiwas.

Today is the first time I have earned anything for being able to speak Japanese - admitedly in order for the unviersity to scrutinise my televised interview for basic foreigner mistakes and create some kind of amazing money spinning internet language course. But nevertheless immensely satisfying.

It was also the first time I have heard Spanish for ages. Amongst the celebration of Article 9, while queing at the bar I met a Brazilian, we ended up grabbing a sit and talking til the last train - he spoke Spanish, I spoke Japanese and it seemed to make both of us happy - him because he could express himself better in Spanish, me because I'd forgotten I could understand any language except english. I couldn't help but feel that Spanish is a language that's made for foreigners to speak - all gestures and passion in place of considered grammatical intricacies. Oh - why didn't I just stick to South America?