First up

"If you start a marathon thinking about mile twenty-six, you're done before you start. When you're out there paddling, you can't be thinking about the island on the horizon or how many hours are left. You focus only on the stroke you're taking right now. Just the catch, the pull, the exit. Be where you are, focus on the current self, and let the rest take care of itself."
- Nathan Fa’avae

I really enjoyed listening to this. Not because he’s a kiwi or a world-beater, but that’s definitely part of it. No, mainly it was because of the parallel between the mindset needed to win at adventure sport, and what we try to do as yamabushi.

It reminded me of a phrase used by the All Blacks (New Zealand’s national rugby team, and one of the most winningest teams in sport, in case you are unaware):

Be where your feet are

This is the phrase used when the team is under immense situational pressure, like when you find your mind wandering to something irrelevant in that particular moment, like the scoreboard or the clock, or a mistake you made earlier. It’s a reminder to focus on where you are right now, and what your next step needs to be to progress.

For us yamabushi, if you’re walking along a cliff, for example, you are essentially forced to be where your feet are. It couldn’t get any clearer than that, and it is a great thing to remember when you find yourself in a pivotal but pressured situation. Kind of badass when you think that just like Nathan, yamabushi purposely put themselves in these situations, but that’s precisely where these solutions come from. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

As a father of two young girls in the modern world, this also struck a chord with me, although it would take me a hell of a lot of preparation, both physical and mental, to get to this stage. Maybe in NZ!

Our kids are growing up with an incredible amount of privilege compared to how we had it, or how generations before us had it. Everything is push-button, heated, comfortable, and safe. If you don’t deliberately introduce friction into their lives, how do they learn what they’re actually capable of handling?

That’s why I take them out into the bush for seven or eight days at a time. No phones, no screens, no easy outs. You’re wet, you’re tired, you’ve got to carry your pack, and dinner doesn’t happen unless you make a fire and cook it. It’s not about being cruel; it’s about stripping away all the noise so they understand that discomfort isn’t fatal. You want them to know that when things get genuinely hard, they have an internal gear they can drop into—and you only build that by testing it against the elements.

- Nathan Fa’avae

If this speaks to you, defs watch the video! They also had Steven Adams and Graham Norton on.

And this: This video explains Japanese technology waaaay better than I ever could:

Want to know why Japanese technology is so… shit? (like actually?). This video explains is so well! (Basically outsourcing the outsourcing, then outsourcing that again until any basic change requires layers of approval)

Meetup in Tokyo on November 5

Next week! (Or next next week in Japanese. A week ends on a Sunday, so if I said next week in Japanese, it would mean the 29th, even though it’s only five days away).

Daily Yamabushi Posts for October 16 to 22, 2026

Here are my Daily Yamabushi posts for the past week. Get more Daily Yamabushi posts at timbunting.com/daily-yamabushi. Discover more Japan essays and daily insights in the Kiwi Yamabushi Substack Archive, or follow my writing over on Medium.com.

Rather than clicking on these individually, you can just read all at once here.

1. A Way to Enjoy It

2. Fresh Eyes

3. Take A Walk

4. Slowly Grinding Away

5. I Need You to be You

6. That’s Where All The Fun Is

7. Mindset Is Malleable

Original Article:

Read more

I see a lot of comments from Kiwis and Aussies asking why they can’t get decent coffee in the morning in Japan. It’s not that you can’t get decent coffee, it’s that Japanese coffee culture is based off something entirely different: Kissa. Kissa culture was alive and well when espresso-based coffee came over, and it essentially absorbed Australasian coffee culture. I’d even argue it wouldn’t have survived otherwise. Also, stick around for how I survive with my own Home and Away setup (a little Australian joke for you there).

We were in Starbucks1 getting some gifts my wife wanted when I thought to myself: ‘how quaint, a souvenir shop selling coffee.’ Mind you this was Te Whanganui-a-tara Wellington, the place that claims more cafes per capita than anywhere else.

Now, I know what you’re thinking: Surely they’re dreaming. Surely there are more cafes per capita in say, New York or Melbourne. Surely souvenir shops shouldn’t be included in the numbers.

And you’d be right.

Let me tell you though, it is indeed true that in Te Whanganui-a-Tara you can get a decent brew by just going around the corner from where you are.

Fuel Espresso two doors down, for example. And, if I might say so myself, their Espresso Doppio Macchiato was *chef’s kiss* pure heaven (not AI, I swear).

In Aotearoa, as in Australia, coffee is treated like the essential morning emergency service it is. On the whole, us Kiwis, and our counterparts across the ditch, are early birds. We don’t even need an alarm. We just listen out for the first hiss of the barista’s practice brew.

Easy peasy.

Japanese people, on the other hand, I have no idea what they set their alarms to, sunset? I mean, I know a cafe here that opens at 1pm.

Opens.

Try ordering a flat white in Aotearoa around that time. Well, 1pm is still lunchtime and therefore reasonable, but 2pm? The door will slam and a closed sign will sway in your face. So much for a culture of self-proclaimed coffee addicts.

In other words, just when us kiwis are closing up shop for the day, Japan is waking up.

Why is that? (Also, how do I survive?)

Simple.

Japan’s coffee culture is built on something entirely different. Something you may have heard of before: Kissa.

Kissa, or Kissaten, are the OG Japanese coffee shop that boomed in the mid-20th century. They have some very important differences with antipodean coffee. These differences explain exactly why Japanese people are zenzen daijobu with a cafe opening when the sun has already started going down.

Coffee Blacker than Kazuhiro

The coffee in Kissa is historically black; dark-roasted slow-drip filter (the best of which is cotton filter), or siphon. None of this third-wave unwashed sun-dried tomato light roast business the coffee world seems to have gotten its panties in a twist over.

The real star of the show though, and the real reason Kissa open so late, is their food. I’m talking egg sandos, ‘pizza toast’, and an abomination called ‘Napolitan pasta’ made with capsicum (or green peppers, as the rest of the world insists), bacon, mushrooms, and then straight up ketchup. The sort of thing that would make Italians say ‘You’ve already ruined my espresso. Now pasta too!?'

Mamma Mia!

Oh yeah, as much as I hate it, I would be remiss to not mention smoking too. If Japan were to ever actually outright ban smoking, which it won’t while the Japanese Ministry of Finance is legally obligated to hold more than a third stake in a tobacco company, it would be a death sentence for all things Kissa.

Really putting the smoko in smoko!

While there are exceptions, on the whole Kissa were never designed for the morning commute. Coffee until lunchtime in Japan is 100% about convenience. They already had an answer to the morning jitters in the form of sub-par canned coffee from a vending machine, convenience store coffee, and, Kami forbid, instant coffee (**shudders**).

Oh, and um, souvenir shop coffee?

Let them have their Boss Coffee, I guess.

Now, let me ask you, would you want to serve lunch at breakfast time?

Exactly.

Neither do Kissa.

When third-wave and espresso coffee culture made its way into Japan, it really was a foreign import. Then, just like Buddhism blending into Shinto, so too was Australasian coffee culture blended into Kissa.

Well, to an extent. They’re still separate, but similar things.

Kissa are more for unwinding in the afternoon, or in some cases, the evening. The whole ‘no caffeine after 3pm’ thing doesn’t seem to phase the Japanese much, possibly because of their history of drinking tea?

Who knows?

There are still espresso shops around, especially in the bigger cities. Out here in the countryside though…

Yeah, good luck with that!

Either way, Japanese people treat cafes more as an after-lunch pick-me-up rather than a morning thing. Survive the morning through sheer will and, um, delusion, then save the cafe for after lunch when we naturally start to become more tired. Sure, the food coma caused by copious amounts of rice consumed at lunch can’t help, but maybe that’s the true reason for the post-lunch early evening brew?

Who am I to say?

In short, just like us kiwis need coffee in the morning to survive the day, Japanese people need coffee to survive their (admittedly much longer) day.

Which is all well and good for the locals.

But ahh, I’m not Japanese. I can’t survive off sub-par coffee. I need essential morning emergency service.

Every. Single. Day.

Which is pretty much why I learned to make coffee myself:

Home:

I have an espresso machine I use to make espressos (duh) and lattes. I also always have paper filters and a Hario V60 handy if I want some smooth kazuhiro coffee. However, my absolute favourite is the cotton nel filters (from the word flannel) when I can get them. These help the coffee maintain a lot of the oils and don’t get that paper taste. This is what I’d suggest you drink at a Kissa in Japan if you can find it. Real snobs would know what I mean.

Away:

When I know I’m going to be away from my setup, I carry a portable espresso maker2 and pre-ground beans. A crime against specialty coffee, I know, but I’m yet to find a decent portable hand grinder for espresso grind. I guess I’m telling you to do this if you can’t secure your essential morning emergency service.

So where does that put you, humble visitor to Japan?

Japanese cafes open too late. Australasian cafes close too soon. What we need is a hybrid. A place that sells coffee in both the morning and the night. Maybe you could make one? You’d go great guns.

You could even model it on Starbucks. Opening until relatively late in Aotearoa, and very late by Aotearoa standards in Japan, Starbucks seems to have solved the conundrum.

Just make sure you sell more than souvenirs.

Further Reading

Meetup in Tokyo on November 5

Check out this awesome graphic made! Come join us!

Daily Yamabushi Posts for October 9 to 15, 2026

Here are my Daily Yamabushi posts for the past week. Get more Daily Yamabushi posts at timbunting.com/daily-yamabushi. Discover more Japan essays and daily insights in the Kiwi Yamabushi Substack Archive, or follow my writing over on Medium.com.

Rather than clicking on these individually, you can just read all at once here.

1. Stop Before the Storm

2. The Sixth Gear

3. You Flinched, I moved.

4. Live Like This, Die Like This

5. Anywhere There’s an Anyway

6. It Starts Now

7. Your Sweet Time

Case in point:

Last week, Shonai Airport held their 35th anniversary. They allowed us onto the tarmac to check out some planes, sit in planes, sit in a police car (a very common thing at events designed for kids here), and watch a tribute to 35 years of aviation to what has to be one of Japan’s smallest rural airports.

Besides when getting on or off a plane, how often are you allowed on the tarmac? My cousin is a pilot, I have a friend who is an Air Traffic Controller, and even I’m not allowed to do that! (reminds me of Grand Theft Auto for some reason).

So yeah, that was fun, and fun for my kids.

But you know what else is fun?

Seeing how small small Japan really is.

This airport came about thanks to the support of Kaichi Nitta, a sort of Mr. Burns-like character in this region, due to his wealth mainly, who unfortunately passed away this past July.

Mr. Nitta built a farming company called Hirata Bokujo, Hirata Farms, where he pioneered a hell of a lot of stuff in the pork farming industry in Japan.

Not only that, he quite literally put Shonai on the map by helping get Yamagata and the Shonai region an expressway.

An expressway!

Who does that?

Mr. Nitta of course.

He also helped develop Sakata’s north port, which these days is more well-known for the cruise ships it brings to the region (and the Lizard People, original article here).

Whenever anyone comes and visits me here in Sakata, there are a few places I like to take them:

Somaro

Somaro is a former inn converted into a Maiko Tea House. Without Mr. Nitta, it wouldn’t exist anymore. Thanks to him they repaired the building and made it useable, and in my humble opinion, very cool (my Japanese TV debut was there too).

Obataro

The same goes for Hiyori Bakery and Cafe, a place we call Obataro. Located in a converted Meiji Era (1868-1912) inn, this structure was extensively repaired recently, but not before appearing in Academy award winning film Departures (something I wrote about more than three(!) years ago).

And, for the ah, wealthier people around, credit also goes to Nitta-san for the Shonai Golf Club, and Sakata City Museum of Art.

Oh yeah. Did I mention it gets a bit personal too?

The university I work for, Tohoku University of Community Service and Science (thankfully abbreviated to Koeki University), also came about in big part thanks to Old Man Nitta too. It pretty much owes its existence to him.

And I guess so do I.

So yeah, that’s how small small Japan is.

Meetup in Tokyo on November 5

Meetup! Just a few weeks away now!

Daily Yamabushi Posts for October 2 to 8, 2026

Here are my Daily Yamabushi posts for the past week. Get more Daily Yamabushi posts at timbunting.com/daily-yamabushi. Discover more Japan essays and daily insights in the Kiwi Yamabushi Substack Archive, or follow my writing over on Medium.com.

Rather than clicking on these individually, you can just read all at once here.

1. The Team That Shows Up

2. Part of Your Training

3. Real Freedom

4. Risk And Opportunity

5. Whose Job Is It?

6. Inadequacy

7. Making The Most of It

As a 16-years-a-gaijin, and after learning Japanese for more than 25 years now, it takes something truly out of the ordinary to surprise me about Japanese culture. Yet just last week I got such a healthy dose of culture shock it even bewildered the Japanese themselves, and all because I found some of the most dangerous weapons known to man, in my suitcase.

I’m a swimmer. Well, a swimmer with balls. A waterpolo player, I used to play waterpolo, OK? Needless to say, I can swim pretty well, as I have for the past 30-odd years.

Any swimmer knows you can practice your crawl technique using ‘pull’. You place a floating figure-eight foam thing called a pull buoy between your legs and swim using only your upper body.

Simple enough.

Except, despite being readily available in Aotearoa New Zealand pools, my local Japanese pool doesn’t have any, nor do local sports stores. So, what is a poor yamabushi to do? Why, shove a flutter board between my legs like some medieval torture device, of course.

Until recently, that is.

You see, being a big boy and all, last month on a visit to my hometown I bought my very own pull buoy. 15% off too! Kiwis know you never pay full price at Rebel Sport. While there, I had a look for anything else that could help my stroke too, and found some plastic finger paddles. A quick message to my swim coach Gemini later, and those plastic paddles were quickly added to my arsenal.

When I got back to Japan last week, I was very keen to test these toys out in the water. I strutted proudly to the side of the pool and placed them down, but not before having a chat with my favourite lifeguard, Konno-san.

Due to his smiley nature, and the fact he’s a bit on the heavier side, Konno-san is the sort of fellow you could aptly describe as jolly. To be honest, he’s kind of like the Japanese Santa Claus.

Except, um, he’s bald, and he has no beard.

To make matters worse, besides the Coca Cola red of the Santa we know, Konno-san is always wearing what could only be described as ‘lifeguard orange’, an orange kiwis would understand as the same hue as Orange Guy (fitting, as it’s election season).

Well, after a few warm-up laps I put my new paddles on, and started swimming. Halfway down the return lap though, I notice an orange figure running alongside trying to grab my attention.

Konno-san.

This immediately triggered a memory of my very first lap in a Japanese swimming pool, way back in 2010. Back then too, I noticed a figure in lifeguard orange running alongside me trying to flag me down. I’ll always remember it because the lifeguard was kind of condescending, “In Japanese pools, wearing a swim cap is ippan joshiki (common sense).”

Well, common sense ain’t so common in Aotearoa then. Caps are an inconvenience, unless you have long hair that is.

Alas, rules is rules. I bought my first ever swim cap that day, and got a good lesson in abiding by arbitrary Japanese rules. You see, despite having zero follicles on his scalp, even Konno-san willingly (blindly) stretches a rubber cap over his head when he swims.

Speaking of, I pulled up to the side of the pool and stopped to talk to Konno-san:

“Are those… plastic?” he asked, looking genuinely apologetic.

“Ah, yes, they are,” I said.

“Yeah. You can’t have them in the pool. They’re too hard, they might injure someone.”

I stood there, a swimmer for more than 30 years, trying to understand how something built precisely for swimming pools could be officially banned in Japan. I felt like asking “Is common sense too hard too?”

I’ve written about it before, but Japanese people love signs. This very pool has a whole wall of them they keep adding a laminated sheet to for each and every tiny detail you could possibly imagine.

Except, maybe, weapons-grade finger paddles? I could have sworn I’d never seen such a rule, I would remember that one.

And you know what?

The retirees in the lane next to me who had gathered like a flock of seagulls to see what the fuss was about had my back. Mouth agape, one of the older gentlemen said, very plainly, “I’ve never heard of that” to which all the others nodded.

That’s right!

It wasn’t just yours truly who got a healthy dose of culture shock, it was the Japanese people in Lane 2 and 3 as well!

Come to think of it, many of the older people like to walk across the lanes right when and where I’m about to turn. More often than I’d like to admit I find myself swearing into the water. Then for my troubles all I get is a heavily accented “sorry!” (this happened the same day too!).

Plus, more than once I’ve noticed older lifeguards on duty nodding off to sleep in their chairs (never Konno-san mind you!). Surely there must be some rule against that?

I took off my contraband, and reminisced about the arduous 9,000km journey we had just made together only to get thwarted by some arbitrary rules with equally arbitrary reasoning. Next time I should bring my knuckledusters. Surely they aren’t written on the wall.

Still suffering from the shock, I held the plastic paddles in my hands, stared at them for a bit, and thought to myself, “at least I didn’t pay full price!”.

Further Reading:

The Uniquely Japanese Superpower

Why Japan Has Tofu Exams But No Lifeguard Standards

Meetup in Tokyo on November 5

Update: I heard will be there too!

If you ever wanted a slice of Aotearoa in Japan, I’ll be at this meetup in Tokyo on November 5th. That’s right, I’ll be coming out of my yamabushi-hole deep in the mountains of Middle Yamagata and venturing to the big city, something I haven’t done since COVID actually. So come meet us in Tokyo!

Daily Yamabushi Posts for September 25 to October 1, 2026

Here are my Daily Yamabushi posts for the past week. Get more Daily Yamabushi posts at timbunting.com/daily-yamabushi. Discover more Japan essays and daily insights in the Kiwi Yamabushi Substack Archive, or follow my writing over on Medium.com.

Rather than clicking on these individually, you can just read all at once here.

1. In The Same Breath

2. They Could Well Be Right

3. Perfection Isn’t Perfect

4. What’s The Application?

5. Are You Doing What You Should Be?

6. This Is My Oyster

7. When It Comes To It

First up, if you ever wanted a slice of Aotearoa in Japan, I’ll be at this meetup in Tokyo on November 5th1. That’s right, I’ll be coming out of my yamabushi-hole deep in the mountains of Middle Yamagata and venturing to the big city, something I haven’t done since COVID actually2.

And it’s not just me you’ll be meeting but a whole lot of other Japan writers, some I’ve been following for quite a while like , , , , and someone I have been following for more than 10 years (not sure if you knew, but it’s true!) .

A Slice of Japan in Aotearoa New Zealand

I got back from Aotearoa earlier this week and while I was there, I found a lot of Japan related stuff:

Japanese Coffee.

Or, rather, coffee made by a Japanese person. Oh, and Matcha too I guess.

It wouldn’t be a Kiwi Yamabushi post without some reference to coffee, or Japan, or coffee by a Japanese person, in Wellington! Ok, that last part is a step too far, but the newly opened Awaji Coffee run by Aoi Kobayashi, a Gifu native, is the perfect spot to get your slice of Japan in downtown Wellington.

I kind of only spoke in Japanese to Aoi (and her staff) too, despite their English being more than good enough. Aoi obliged, and because of that, I got to feel like I was in Japan for a short moment, which hardly ever happens in Aotearoa.

Unless, of course, you are under the:

Sakura.

Honestly, we were a bit too early for it, but there was a Sakura festival at Aston Norwood, just north of us in Kaitoke earlier in the month.

My only problem with this festival is that, New Zealand doesn’t grow rice, but Sakura is directly related to the rice harvest. So the original meaning of why even celebrate being under the cherry blossoms in the first place is so special is completely lost on people.

Although, I don’t think even Japanese people realise the reason behind it… If you see a Japanese person in the wild, ask them if they know that the kura in iwakura is the same as in Sakura.

And finally,

The Last Samurai.

Or rather, the location it was filmed in.

Taranaki!

Daily Yamabushi Posts for September 11 to 24, 2026

Here are my Daily Yamabushi posts for the past week. Get more Daily Yamabushi posts at timbunting.com/daily-yamabushi. Discover more Japan essays and daily insights in the Kiwi Yamabushi Substack Archive, or follow my writing over on Medium.com.

Rather than clicking on these individually, you can just read all at once here.

September 18 to 24, 2026

1. Impress Me

2. The Equivalent of Crying

3. To Be Unnecessary

4. Against The Grain

5. The Loose Screw

6. The Song Must Go On

7. Make it Permanent

September 11 to 17, 2026

1. I Pride Myself

2. Lucky to Have You

3. Spin The Car Around

4. Now or Never

5. Drawing Between The Lines

6. The Reference Point

7. Right In Front of You

Alas, that’s exactly where I got it.

Cafe Infidelity and The Eye of Sauron in Aotearoa New Zealand

When I was a little boy, Friday night meant one thing, and one thing only:

Aotearoa New Zealand’s staple dish:

Fish and chips!

Which for me meant chips and a pineapple fritter from a local shop in Waiwhetū. We each got one thing with our chips, and I ah, wasn’t very creative.

That was 30 years ago, I like to think I’m more creative now.

Either way, I went back to Waiwhetū recently for mum’s funeral. Due to the nature of the event we had to rush back to Aotearoa from Japan and I didn’t have time to prepare my normal coffee setup. Which was fine and all because it’s Aotearoa. These days decent coffee can be had on pretty much any street corner, including on the street corner in Waiwhetū where we used to get fish and chips.

Or, to be precise, the exact shop.

You see, our old fish and chips shop is now Rascals Espresso Bar.

There’s probably something in that: the place we used to go for sustenance on a Friday night turned into a place we currently go to for sustenance every morning. And you know what? What with their album of the week, customers’ dogs’ photos on display, and umm.. coffee? it’s a definite upgrade!

If only rural Japan turned dead shops into cafes... I mean, if a small suburb like Waiwhetū can sustain two cafes side-by-side, anything is possible.

That’s right.

The lowly suburb of Waiwhetū is home to two cafes. Contrary to popular belief, the second cafe was not in a fish and chip shop, but it is close. A mere three doors down from Rascals and you will find elph. coffee.

Oh yeah, and the eye of Sauron.

My first day back here I just went to the closest cafe to our accommodation: elph.

And it was good.

Very good.

elph. is rather compact, but it has one special trick that makes it seem much larger: windows that open with a bench so you can lean over and people watch to your heart’s content.

However, this one feature means elph. seems to have attracted the wrong kind.

You know the type.

The resident older dude with his two-hour old coffee who by now is well and truly part of the furniture.

Yet perhaps the most impressive, and terrifying, part of his whole setup is the complete lack of a smartphone.

In 2026.

I know!

Zero interest in doom scrolling. Zero interest in pretending to look important, or cool for that matter.

Just pure, unadulterated people watching. Or people judging, am I right?

Everyone knows these old dudes are lowkey judging everyone like they own the place, but no one cares because they are old dudes lowkey judging everyone.

You know, the enlightened type. They have reached 100% main-character state of uncaring even a cat would be proud of.

I’m willing to bet you’ve seen a few. I certainly have. In the past year alone I’ve seen some in as far flung places as Australia, Ireland, and of course where I live in rural Japan.

In Japan they call them Ojisan, and their natural habitat is glued to a Starbucks table.

Anyway, little did I know, this guy at elph. wasn’t simply lowkey judging everyone…

Seeing as this is espresso country, I know I probably shouldn’t, but I ask the nice people of elph. whether they have filter coffee.

Negative.

Now, what with the stress of the past six months, I’ve um, put on a bit of weight. I’m trying to watch my weight by doing intermittent fasting. Filter coffee simultaneously tastes great, has zero calories, or thereabouts, and is easy on the stomach (unlike a shot of espresso, for example).

Alas, elph. doesn’t do filter coffee, so I bear that in mind and order a flat white instead. I hadn’t had one in quite a while, and my fast can wait another day.

Like, the next day.

I want to see if anywhere else nearby has filter coffee, AKA our old fish and chips shop turned espresso bar.

Problem is though, I have to walk past elph. to get to Rascals. I know full well if I get seen walking back with a coffee cup from another shop the guilt would kill me.

So, I do the old put-on-a-hat-and-keep-your-face-low trick as I walk past.

And I’m in luck. Maybe elph. haven’t opened up shop yet or something. Their windows aren’t open, and the old dude is nowhere to be seen.

I scurry past, enter Rascals Espresso Bar, and ask whether they have any filter coffee.

Affirmative!

I order one for myself, and a mocha for my wife, but the moment the words leave my mouth I get an unsettling feeling in my stomach.

‘Must be hunger from the first day of a fast. No biggie.’ I tell myself.

Idiot.

I pick up my order once it’s ready and head out the door. The moment I step outside, though, I notice the windows are slightly ajar, and through the gap a blazing red judgmental eye locks onto the coffee cups in my hands, before slowly moving up to the shocked look of pure horror on my face.

You wouldn’t believe it unless you saw it:

The Eye of Sauron.

In Waiwhetū.

In the window of elph. no less.

You see, one does not simply walk past elph.

Now for the rest of my stay here I have to make like Frodo just to get my morning brew.

Thanks, Sauron.

Dickhead.

Daily Yamabushi Posts for September 4 to 10, 2026

Here are my Daily Yamabushi posts for the past week. Get more Daily Yamabushi posts at timbunting.com/daily-yamabushi. Discover more Japan essays and daily insights in the Kiwi Yamabushi Substack Archive, or follow my writing over on Medium.com.

Rather than clicking on these individually, you can just read all at once here.

1. Dams and Levees

2. Why us? What is?

3. Make the Most of a Good Situation

4. Force it Out

5. Plasters Out

6. You Know You Have to Do That

7. It All Adds Up

Dad died of a heart attack. Mum’s death took more than ten years. I can unequivocally confirm that dying quick is the way to go.

My parents were both in fine health up until just over 10 years ago when dad died. They were perfectly healthy at our wedding in 2015, although to be honest we did notice more than a few things with mum then.

There was a time probably around 2017 when I told mum I was going to visit her, but she had completely forgotten. I had to get myself to her house from the airport (not easy in Wellington after flying in from Japan) and even then nothing was set up. I had to get the bedding for my bed out and everything. That was quite a shock at the time, but it would have been a good surprise for mum!

I was somewhere over the Pacific when mum actually passed. Luckily we got to say our goodbyes in March. I remember wondering whether in-flight wifi was a good thing or not, flying time is ripe for catching up on reading and all. But if it means getting messages like this in transit rather than when you land, well yeah I’m still debating that. I have never stared at a message on a screen for so long.

Surprises Along The Way

There were a few things about mum’s death that surprised me, but in hindsight make a lot of sense:

First, due to the nature of mum’s disease, grief starts well before the person actually passes. What really surprised me about that was in recent weeks I was forgetting things like Japanese words I normally wouldn’t forget, or things that were just said to me a moment ago. Don’t worry, this is not dementia, it’s a survival mechanism. You only focus on the immediate things that matter, not whether it’s going to rain next Tuesday, or if little Jimmy will have a cracker but not a biscuit.

Anyway, that was weird. And it may continue for a little while. I’ve taken to keeping notes more often in the meantime.

One Step Closer to Harry Potter

Another weird thing is the realisation that I find myself as an orphan at age 38. Something like 30 to 35% of people in their late 30s have lost one parent. That number goes down considerably when you factor in losing the other (something like 5%).

Most people lose their parents sometime in their 50s or 60s. I’m about 15-20 years ahead of the curve. Let’s just say if you come to me complaining about your parents, well, don’t be surprised if I don’t care so much. It’s a survival mechanism, don’t you know.

(Use this as a push for you to thank your parents, if they are still with us. Also, ask them why they chose your name too, something I never had the chance to ask (when I cared, at least). I know Timothy is from the Bible, but that’s about it…)

Reality Hits Fast

I went to pick up mum’s stuff from the rest home in the afternoon after they took her away. A mere 5 hours after she had been moved and that room was spick and span! All of mum’s stuff had been shifted into 5 big plastic bags, although a lot of it was clothes. That was quite a shock, but I guess the rest home has ends to meet…

On that note, I helped clear out both of my parents’ houses (they lived in separate homes). I don’t think I’m a minimalist, but because of that, I don’t think I have an excess of stuff either (well, not too much). A friend of ours has been doing some Marie Kondo cleaning up at our house. Let’s just say, given my experience, I think that stuff makes a lot of sense!

If not for the Japanese culture thing behind it, it’s definitely worth looking at your stuff and seeing if it ‘sparks joy’. If it doesn’t, guess who has to clean up the stuff even you don’t like? (I sound bitter, but I’m not. Well, about mum at least. Dad on the other hand… did those old cans of dried-up paint spark joy??)

The Yamabushi Connection

I became a yamabushi largely because of my dad’s death. Then there’s the fact mum died the morning of the first day of the Aki no mine autumn’s peak ritual, my only personal yamabushi training each year.

Dad died on a public holiday. From dad I learned you can forever mar that day as a sad day, or you can flip it on its head and think of it as a celebration of a life (well) lived. The choice is yours.

Yamabushi training is one of death and rebirth, not usually literal death though. I honestly believe yamabushi training is the most practical way to grieve that exists. Plenty of Japanese people either do yamabushi training, or climb mountains in memory of loved ones as that is where our souls are said to go when we pass. (The souls of the ancestors are represented by dragonflies, coincidentally something my uncle mentioned in his speech at mum’s funeral. Did he know Mt. Gassan, the mountain of the afterlife, is covered in them?)

Motivation

I hope you use this as a reminder to be thankful to your parents. Also use it as a reminder to look after yourself, especially by getting proper sleep and eating well.

And as I’ve said before, dad’s passing was motivation that led to what you’re reading right now. I intend to continue this for the foreseeable future, and you’ll notice I have kept up the Daily Yamabushi, of course.

If you’ve gotten this far and haven’t read ’s most recent book, do yourself a favour. Despite the self-help title, Eight Million Ways to Happiness is by far the best representation of Japanese spirituality and attitudes towards grieving I have ever read.

Lastly, here’s what I wrote for my speech at mum’s funeral on Tuesday:

Because of Mum

“Thanks Tim. Here is your mother’s funeral speech fully formatted and ready to copy paste into Microsoft Word.”

The purest form of love imaginable is that between a mother and child.

I’ve known mum my whole life. I knew about her a whole nine months before I even knew about any of you lot.

There are certain things we don’t remember because we know those close to us will. We store our memories in those around us, and no one more so than our own mothers.

So when our mothers die, we don’t just lose them, we lose a huge part of ourselves, the biggest part possible.

My earliest memory is mum pushing my pram down Wyndrum Ave on the way to Waterloo Kindy.

I still, vaguely mind you, remember, as a 4-5 year old, getting out of bed at Wyndrum ave, while it’s still light outside, opening the front door, opening the gate, and going down our long driveway to be found by a neighbour trying to cross the road.

So much for ‘eyes in the back of your head’ ay mum?

Mum taught me how to drive, how to spell ‘sufficient’, what a miser was, and how to tie my shoes. She taught me how to use the toilet. Mum taught me how to use a knife and fork, but she always admitted she regretted not teaching me how to use a spoon properly (true story, I hold it like a baby if I’m not actively thinking about it).

Because of Mum I could learn how to swim, and then play waterpolo for so many years, even coming third in NZ.

Because of Mum I could study Japanese, interpret for Olympic champions, world-famous magazine reporters, local mayors and politicians.

Because of mum I could have KFC on my fifth birthday.

Because of Mum I could have peanut butter for Christmas.

Because of mum I could go galavanting around the countryside.

Because of Mum I could meet my wife, and my two daughters.

Because of Mum I could exist.

Because of Mum I could learn that the purest form of love imaginable is that between a mother and child.

So Thanks Mum,

Ka kite ano

Your beautiful blue-eyed baby boy.

Daily Yamabushi Posts for Forever (August 14 to September 3, 2026)

Here are my Daily Yamabushi posts for the past week. Get more Daily Yamabushi posts at timbunting.com/daily-yamabushi. Discover more Japan essays and daily insights in the Kiwi Yamabushi Substack Archive, or follow my writing over on Medium.com.

Rather than clicking on these individually, you can just read all at once here.

August 14 to 20

1. Let Them Play Their Games

2. Incremental Gains

3. Stop Not Doing

4. Just Go Slow

5. Light on a Foggy Road

6. When Do You Do?

7. When Small Things Matter

August 21 to 27

1. We Can Work it Out When We Can Work it Out

2. Defeated

3. The Smoothest Way to Go

4. Watch Your Posture

5. If it Comes to it

6. When Doing Something Means Doing Nothing

7. Make it Bearable

August 28 to September 3

1. You Panic. I Panic.

2. Fear of Falling

3. Take Away Temptation

4. What Works

5. A Function Of

6. The Real Real Training

7. What is the End Game?

I have always struggled with ANA’s app. I find it extremely unintuitive (Air New Zealand’s is great in comparison), but this time around it kind of saved my ass. There was an option in the app to book a new flight, which I did successfully, and I still arrived back home on the Tuesday, albeit closer to 10pm.

I’ve heard the Shonai flight is the shortest flight out of Haneda, or at least one of the shortest, besides one of the islands off Tokyo’s coast. I’d believe it. The whole flying time was less than 40 minutes. If only we didn’t have to wait on the tarmac for 30-odd minutes beforehand, but yeah, first world problems!

Anyway, I was originally planning for a layover of about 5 hours which turned into about 9. My original plan was to go to the Onsen (hot spring) in Haneda Airport Garden attached to terminal 3. I had to buffer that with a few strolls around the terminal, and a visit to one of the lounges (this place was perfect for me and they do drop-ins).

Before that, though, I put my luggage in a locker.

Or tried to, at least.

First, it wouldn’t fit. I had a soft-shell hybrid suitcase bag thing that I ah, had packed too much. My excuse is that clothes in Japan don’t fit me, so I tend to buy (a lot) when I go overseas. This time was no different. A few yamabushi heaves later though, and I was in.

Or so I thought.

If you look at the bottom of this picture, right under where you put the coins in there are a whole lot of logos including the coveted D-Barai. Once the luggage is in and the red lock button turns green, the screen pops up with a payment method thing. However, nowhere on the screen did it say ‘pay by QR code’, only IC card or cash. Now, I did have an IC card, and cash, but neither give me D-points. And let’s be honest, D-points are what I really wanted. I asked a random guy there who told me QR-code payment was indeed possible, but when he tried to show me…

Computer says no.

Turns out the lockers I had chosen indeed did not accept QR codes besides saying so right there.

The lockers on the other side though…

By then I was pretty ready for an onsen, even if it was quite literally 10x the normal amount we pay in Yamagata.

According to the website, it’s normally 4,800yen, but since it was Obon the price was jacked up to 6,000yen. To be honest, I just really wanted a shower of some sort, but also to kill the time in a way that didn’t make me sleep.

The onsen fit the bill.

Like, really fit the bill.

Had a steam sauna with mint fragrance, outdoor bath overlooking a river with Tokyo in the distance, and a cold pool that was actually cold (sometimes they aren’t). Almost as good as the onsen in Yamagata.

Almost.

Anyway, here are a few things I found while in transit (and before):

Chaeyongi ga johahaneun raendeom geim
Raendeom geim
Game start…

Further Reading:

Daily Yamabushi Posts for August 7 to August 13, 2026

Here are my Daily Yamabushi posts for the past week. Get more Daily Yamabushi posts at timbunting.com/daily-yamabushi. Discover more Japan essays and daily insights in the Kiwi Yamabushi Substack Archive, or follow my writing over on Medium.com.

1. All View No Visibility

2. The Old Lady

3. The Pause Before The Storm

4. As a Matter of Fact

5. My Entertainment

6. Looking in The Wrong Place

7. A Reason to be Kind

See if you can guess the things in the following passage that are cultural faux pas or otherwise impossible in Japan:

Aight. How many did you pick up?

It’s just after 7am on cool summer’s day in Cork, Ireland.

Being in Cork, Ireland is true. I’m not just a yamabushi, don’t you know? Hansei Hanzoku and all that. All of my four grandparents have some sort of connection to Ireland, and my Grandad’s family Cork especially. So I guess I could call myself an honorary Irishman? Nah, I don’t think the Irish would let me get away with that. Especially when I proudly wear my All Blacks shirt everywhere (sorry not sorry!).

Jet-lagged, I’m walking down Patrick’s Street with a croissant in one hand, and freshly brewed pour over coffee in the other.

In Ireland, as in New Zealand, you can walk around and eat or drink without feeling guilty. Sure, you can do that at festivals in Japan, but Japanese people really don’t like it around town. I suppose it’s a bit like talking with food in your mouth; common (Japanese) sense says you shouldn’t do it. Common sense also says there should be rubbish bins around, but I don’t know (more on that in a second)…

Wanting to capture this moment, I place the stuff down, whip out my phone, and snap a photo. Suddenly, I remember, ‘oh yeah, no sound’.

This is true too. Buy a phone in Japan and you can’t get rid of the sound when you take a photo. It’s to combat voyeurism, apparently. I only know this from stealthily taking photos for participants on the mountains during yamabushi training (I swear), but there’s a very easy workaround, so easy it makes me wonder why they still bother with the sound at all. It’s an app called Simple Cam. In other words, the barrier to entry for voyeurism in Japan costs about as much as a bowl of Ramen.

Once done, I throw the rubbish in a nearby bin.

This still seems to trip people up. Everyone knows rubbish bins don’t exist in Japan. Well, they do. But they’re about as few and far between as an empty seat on the Yamanote line at 8am. Once you find one it’s exactly like coming across a Kami in the flesh.

Just like in other countries how you have to be strategic about carrying a water bottle or a keep cup (not in Japan!), you have to be strategic about getting rid of your rubbish. To be honest, I’m completely used to it now. You can sneakily get rid of rubbish at cafes and the like by adding it to the outgoing rubbish on your plate, or find a Conbini and ‘borrow’ their rubbish bin instead. Either that, or wait until you catch one of the voyeurs, and put it in their bag or something (raw rubbish is best for this).

There’s a guy sitting there smoking a cigarette,

To be honest I was surprised to see so many people smoking here, but I guess that’s a European thing (?). Japan has a weird relationship with smoking, even having a third stake in a tobacco company. Creating a bizarre world where smoking on the street was banned years ago for safety and optics, but smoking indoors in a local izakaya remained sacred tradition.

shaking his leg like there’s no tomorrow.

This!

This is a cultural faux pas in Japan. You never shake your leg if you can avoid it. The call it binbo yusuri, literally ‘poor man’s shaking’. For Japanese people, this is a sign of anxiety, impatience, lack of self control, or even worse, a ‘poor’ upbringing. It comes from an old belief whereby shaking your leg is literally shaking away your wealth, luck, or good fortune, which of course leads to, well, being poor. In other words, if you’re poor, stop shaking your leg!

Since it is a little cold out, I put my hands in my pockets as I search for a public toilet.

This one was surprising for me too, it took me a few years to get over. In Japan, as much as possible you don’t walk around with your hands in your pockets. This seemingly innocent act is anything but. Walking around with your hands in your pockets changes your posture making you look slumped and defensive. Or, it makes you seem darashinai, sloppy, lazy, or otherwise unrefined. This sends a signal that you are untrustworthy, arrogant, or “too cool” to pay attention to those around you.

In the past in Japan, hiding your hands signalled potential hostility. People were unsure whether you were holding a weapon, or in other words, hiding your intentions. Japanese kids are (apparently) taught not to walk around with their hands in their pockets, mainly as a way to help them catch their fall shall they fall over (true story). As anyone who has tried running on snow or ice with their hands in their pockets could attest to, this is good advice.

In other words, everything is about looks. Like how Takaichi says they want to avoid Japan ‘looking’ like it is unkind to foreigners, AKA it’s fine to be unkind, but not look it! Kind of like the whole phone camera making a sound thing. It’s just for show.

Post-coffee poos are not to be taken lightly.

Post-coffee poos are not to be taken lightly.

Which brings us, naturally, to the mechanics of Western toilets:

A few minutes later, I wash and dry my hands, and I’m on my way.

This one. Man.

To put it lightly, even in summer a cold toilet seat is rather unpleasant. Japan has that part very right. Forget the bidets and all the gadgets, please, for the love of Kami, introduce heated toilet seats, or at least seats that are not cold to the touch!

On that note, using a urinal in Ireland left me wondering ‘why the lack of shelf?’ Japanese urinals, and toilets in general, always have a shelf behind them for you to place whatever it is you may be holding in your hand (well, besides your penis).

So, how many did you pick up? How right am I? Let me know!

Further reading:

Daily Yamabushi Posts for July 31 to August 6, 2026

Here are my Daily Yamabushi posts for the past week. Get more Daily Yamabushi posts at timbunting.com/daily-yamabushi. Discover more Japan essays and daily insights in the Kiwi Yamabushi Substack Archive, or follow my writing over on Medium.com.

1. Cheerleaders and Coaches

2. One of Many, One of One

3. What Are The Sensations?

4. What About This Moment?

5. Get Lost

6. Life is Too Short

7. Put Some Stake in it

Step One: Go into Starbucks.

Mistake number one.

Step Two: Order a decaf.

Mistake number two.

Step Three: Expect a normal response.

Mistake number three.

I walk up to the counter to a server who was clearly sizing me up:

“Konnichi wa. Burakku dekafe hotto no toru onegai dekimasu ka?”

As soon as the words leave my mouth, she holds up a finger, turns to the colleague behind her, and, as if I don’t exist, says:

“‘Juppun kakaru’ tte Eigo de nan to iun deshitakke?” (“How do you say ‘it takes ten minutes’ in English?”)

Thinking, did I stutter? I immediately say:

“Nihongo de ii desu yo” (“you can speak to me in Japanese”).

What continues is a conversation in that awkward mix of semi-confident English on one side, and, to be frank, pretty good Japanese on the other.

Off the bat I probably should have just said “it takes ten minutes, does it?”, but I copped out.

Weakling.

Now, in case you missed it, Lizard People are the sort of people who arrive in a rural Japanese town en masse in a massive multi-million dollar ship, take token photos, and then go back whence they came (belong).

You, dear reader, by reading this newsletter have proven that you are indeed not a Lizard Person.

Thank Kami for that.

Normally, Lizard People are harmless. Although, they do leave behind a dangerous footprint: wherever they lurk, a permanent, town-wide “English Panic Mode” sets in, including, but not limited to, pretty much every corporate chain in rural Yamagata (which, as I’ve explained before, is as dangerous as it sounds).

And yes, that includes Uniqlo:

The staff member sizes me up as I wait in line. When it’s my turn, I put my Airism in the self scanning box thing, and push the button that says ‘begin purchase’. Next second, out of nowhere a ninja arm swoops in and starts tap tap tapping on the screen, trying to put it into English.

Woah Nelly! Hang on a second!

“Nihongo de ii desu yo!”

But instead of the expected dogeza, the deepest bow possible where the forehead reaches the ground, I get a simple “shitsurei shimashita”, the equivalent of ‘sorry for the trouble’, but quite literally: ‘I was rude’.

Yeah, no need to tell me.

Now, where can a yamabushi get some food around here?

I mentioned every corporate chain in Yamagata seemed infected, but there was one exception:

Family Mart.

The holy grail of all things Japan and convenience (mainly because of the D-points).

I notice the old dude behind the counter sizing me up before I even reach the onigiri section. I grab my staple, konbu (kelp) and ‘sea chicken’ (a story for next time), and place them on the counter. What with my recent luck at Japanese chain stores, my mouth automatically starts to say “nihongo de ii…”

“Attamegga?”

Zero attempt at English. Not even formal Japanese. Rural, Shonai dialect for “do you want it heated?”.

My kind of guy! I seem to have found the last bastion of non-Lizard People in northern Japan, in a Family Mart of all places.

I ask if he can speak English because… just joking!

Lizard People be damned!

Daily Yamabushi Posts for July 24 to 30, 2026

Here are my Daily Yamabushi posts for the past week. Get more Daily Yamabushi posts at timbunting.com/daily-yamabushi. Discover more Japan essays and daily insights in the Kiwi Yamabushi Substack Archive, or follow my writing over on Medium.com.

1. Attitude For Gratitude

2. Keeping The Rhythm is Keeping The Peace

3. Complaints Are Simply a Sign to Change Something

4. Get Them When You Can. Get Them Good.

5. Too Good For The All Stars

6. Your Existence is Offensive to Someone

7. Build the Block Tower Together

Haguro-san’s National Treasure Five Story Pagoda is famously shiraki (白木), literally ‘white wood’, what we would call in English ‘blank’ or ‘unvarnished’. Even after more than 650 years in brutal snow country, the tower famously still has zero paint, varnish, or unn…

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‘Continue street.’

Or my personal favourite:

‘Hid est.’

Forget my wedding or the births of my children, Wednesday was the happiest day of my life.

And, if I’m being perfectly honest, simultaneously the scariest day too.

Get this:

I was heading to Yuza. I love driving to Yuza. You can basically stare at Chokai-san the whole way there, a mountain t…

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Last time we established that around the year 740AD a monk named Gyoki had an encounter with purple haze, and came up with the name for the mountain in the middle of Tendo, Tendo-zan: ‘Heavenly Children’. We also established that the townspeople got sick of the name Tendo-zan, and ga…

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Last week I shared what I guess would be a bit of a teaser, although I never intended for that. Well, think of this as the first part of the teaser, Maizuru-Yama in Tendo City, the next mountain on my 100 Famous Mountains of Yamagata Project (#37?). Basically, I wanted to share a report of my climb up the mountain, but I foun…

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I would have passed Maizuru-yama at least 50 or so times over the years. It just stands there, a mound of greenery in th…

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