Day 2

Drifted down Port Campbell. The gate of Antarctica.

Finding my first Xmas carol in the south.
Port Campbell, CBD, Victoria, Australia

Day 2, Day 1 Port Campbell
Victoria, Australia
Itinerary

Right before midnight. I’m somewhere above Guam. South of Hong Kong, just about to slice across the equator. After a pleasant dinner and some light banter with the Australian in the next seat, the cabin lights dimmed. Bedtime. Melbourne is a ten-and-a-half-hour stretch. It’s about an hour and a half longer than San Francisco, but with the jet stream, the actual distance feels nearly identical. Outside, it’s just the vast ocean. Even in this typhoon-breeding ground, the plane barely shakes. Once we cross the equator and hit the skies above the Oceania continent, it should be smooth sailing.

Here I am, in the “afternoon of my life,” still traveling alone. Passing Guadalcanal, heading to the far side of the globe—the edge of the world, just before Antarctica. I never thought I’d see this place in my lifetime. A colleague once teased me: “You’re like a high schooler,” but it’s more than just the spirit; it’s the body, too. Every time I set out, I find myself thinking, Maybe this is the last one.

I waited for the cabin to fall silent, then opened my ThinkPad. I found myself scrolling through my website from the year 2000. The tagline back then was: “Step out, play on, adventure out.” By the end of that year, I had released the first edition of “mizu no kioku,” which won an award. Then, to celebrate the Millennium Christmas, I organized an online composing project titled “Four Stories: Fire, Water, Earth, and Wind.”

I released the Fire chapter, “The Tale of a Fading Candle.” At the same time, my collaborators across the net released “Playing with Water,” “Poem of Earth and Forest,” and “A Wind of Pray.” There was even a composer who stayed behind the scenes as a PA, the most crucial role of all. All I could contribute back then was lending out my old, worn-out scientific calculator. As the century came to a close, I spent my nights producing “Eternal Sky”—a nine-minute montage weaving everyone’s phrases together for a grand finale.

Back then, “online” meant connecting via analog lines at 56Kbps. I’d jump on a train in the evening, clutching my ThinkPad, traveling across Japan on a “Seishun 18” one day free pass, logging in via a 64Kbps PHS connection in the dead of night. Twenty-five years later, I’m in a 20Gbps world. Back then, I didn’t have a map to show me how to survive this far. “Step out, play on, adventure out.” Maybe I haven’t changed much after all.

Just like last year’s trip to Hong Kong, I built this Australian itinerary myself (and had it reviewed, of course). As long as I can log in and access Google Maps, I’m free to go anywhere.

AM
Sunday, Dec 21st, 2025
Cloudy/Rain 13°
Melbourne Int’l Airport

Due to the hour-long taxiing at Narita, we landed at 8:30 AM (GMT+10, Daylight Savings)—exactly an hour late. Following the friendly advice of my Australian neighbor, I showed the photo from the automated kiosk to a nearby officer. “Hey, good photo! Perfect.” he chirped, and just like that, I was in. A bit strange, but if it works, it works.

I stepped out into the airport of the largest city in the Southern Hemisphere. Wait. I’m standing. Just… normally. Ignoring the gaze of the greeting crowds, I dashed to the rental car counter. My ride: an Outlander. It’s huge. And the odometer? Practically zero. So, the first two days begin. Since I’m in Victoria, the steering wheel is on the right side. A bit boring that it’s not “opposite” like in America, but I’ll take it.

PM
Sunday, Dec 21st, 2025 Heavy rain 9°
Port Campbell

Heading southwest from Melbourne Airport. About 240km away lies a tiny port town called Campbell. It’s nestled near the final stretch of the Great Ocean Road, famous for its pristine starlit skies. Naturally, my mission for these first two days: observing the Southern Cross.

“Campbell”—it’s likely someone’s surname. But this name isn’t new to me.

In 2002, the first foreign town I ever visited alone was Campbell, a small suburb in Silicon Valley. I went there to visit the office of an Italian boss who recognized my potential in my work. My very first visit to Narita Airport was also to see him off on his first visit to Japan. On the Keisei Skyliner there, my CEO led me to pitch a completely new product concept. My ad-lib idea connected our future together. Crossing borders—it all started from that moment. Actually, I was deeply relieved to hear through the grapevine earlier this year that he is doing well back in his hometown in Italy. But that’s a story for another time. A quarter-century later, here I am on the opposite side of the planet, aiming for a place with the exact same name. A strange bit of déjà vu. I felt a fated connection to the land.

Driving a massive Outlander with my shaky, “beginner-vibe” skills through a landscape far more grand than anything in America. Halfway there, the weather turned into a guerrilla downpour. Visibility was shot, forcing me to slow down. I came all this way for the famous “Black Sky” of Campbell to see the Southern Cross, but this rain made it seem impossible.

Anticipating this, I had a diversified plan. My guesthouse just happens to be a craft brewery. Time to drink!

Despite a few “lost time” moments—taking the wrong freeway and being shocked by a $5 McDouble-priced coffee—I arrived at the guesthouse around 1:30 PM, pretty much on schedule. Check-in wasn’t until 2:00 PM, but since it was freezing and pouring outside, I asked the landlady at the drum-can counter if I could come in early. She graciously agreed. Saved.

However, she struggled with the “Shi” sound at the start of my name. I told her, “Sorry, my country is at that awkward level where we brag about using Hepburn romanization, so it’s a bit messy.” She laughed and said, “Sorry, love, you’re the first Japanese person I’ve ever met. The end of your name sounds like ‘Ru,’ so… is ‘Kangaroo’ okay?” “Absolutely,” I replied. “From today, I am the Kangaroo. Call me Kangaroo!” And so, my two-day residency as a marsupial began.

The guesthouse is on the second floor—shared bathrooms and showers, but gender-separated, so it’s plenty comfortable. I noticed a handmade patchwork cat doll sitting by the glass door leading to the veranda. A lovely touch.

When the rain let up slightly, I took a stroll. A five-minute walk brought me to a tiny harbor facing Antarctica. There’s a small local grocery store, a riverside campsite packed with tents (some surviving, some not), and a few touristy cafes. Tucked behind them was a small local church. Since the guesthouse shares the same grounds, I wondered if it was like Belgium, where the church itself sells the craft beer. Around my feet, a mob of wallabies—slightly smaller than rabbits—hopped along. Even some ducks joined the parade.

Then, for a split second, the rain stopped. A beam of light pierced through the clouds, illuminating the harbor from the direction of Antarctica. Take a snapshot of that, I told myself. It was so incredibly quiet.

After an evening nap, I headed down past the drum-can counter into the spacious lounge. Everyone was enjoying beer and food with their travel mates. I ordered a regular craft beer and a handmade veggie pizza. The beer was perfectly balanced, and biting into that hand-kneaded crust made me feel like I was back at my family home.

Suddenly, a familiar voice called out: “Kangaroo!” The owner had appeared, looking quite troubled. “Where did you park your car?” I had a hunch. “Can you come check with me?” I pointed exactly to where I’d parked in the back lot. The owner looked immensely relieved. “There? Oh, that’s perfectly fine!” and he dashed off to find another guest.

This. This is just like Japan. Someone probably complained to the neighbors. Even on the other side of the world, people are the same. But honestly, I’m never the same. Today, I heard ‘Perfect’ twice. Unfortunately, I’m sorry to say that I’m a total wreck.

After only two drinks, I was completely buzzed. I don’t quite remember if I actually said it, but I felt like saying, “I’m a cheap date, aren’t I? Great value for money!” It felt good. Unlike last year in Hong Kong, where I spent two hours in a “stupid talk” wrestling match before the plates were even cleared… well, this time, I’m a Kangaroo. The bar for my identity has been raised significantly in just one year.

So, no Southern Cross on the first night. I actually walked down to the harbor in the rain before bed, but the miracle from earlier didn’t happen again.

• Day 1
• Index
• Day 3, Day 2 Port Campbell