But it is these soon-to be-a-distant traumatic memories which, more often than not, make for the best writing material.
The years of postcards from loved-ones abroad plays constant reminder that no-one is interested in the stately homes, castles, beach parties, shrines, temples and glorious mountains of Japan or anywhere else in the world for that matter.
Sat on your sofa at home the fact that I saw a big Buddah with nostrils the size of Harvey Price is about as interesting as being locked in a dungeon with James Blunt and a guitar.
“Yubara Einstein" who spends his life cutting insects from fliers to present to the village idiot - namely me - while pulling faces like a remedial trout at the end of the bar in my local. Paper thin too hot in summer and too fucking cold in winter houses, outdoor washing machines with pipes that freeze with the first snowflake of winter.
Holes in the floor covered with the faeces of the thousands that have gone before next to futuristic toilets sent from the Gods. Noisy bugs, noisy frogs, chanting woman, 5am sirens, Internet modem and drive-by announcements at unearthly hours of the morning.
As irritating as all these things are (asides for Fish-face Einstein) they all add to the oddity that is Japan.
My latest and long overdue rant comes from a recurring theme which has long tested my patience.
Faffing.
From a family made up of half doers and half faffers, I did not think anyone could score higher than my mother, brother and one cousin in-particular in the "what the fuck have you been doing for the past hour?" stakes.
But someone, or rather something does.
Japan.
Lunchtime today, the dinner lady trundles in with her trolley carrying too many trays and dishes for the staffroom. They talk, as always for a good 10 minutes, with concerned expressions. I can only gather from my limited Japanese that they are counting up how many diners there will be this lunchtime, as our vats of slop grow colder and colder.
The usual slow dishing up rigmarole ensues. Ravenous, we all "Itadakimasu" and tuck in. Lo and behold a latecomer arrives, with who comes a sense of impending doom as every single person, sombre-faced, looks around in stunned disbelief.
Despite the fact that this happens EVERY FUCKING DAY.
Being a major faux pas to eat from the plate of another, chopsticks clatter, the multitude stands, staring hopelessly as nothing proactive is done to salvage some untouched fodder for the teacher, unlucky enough to have drawn the short straw of hunger on this particular occasion.
A gaijin experiencing this daily happening for the first time could be forgiven for thinking someone had just announced the Land of the Rising Sun's latest Emperor’s had just been discovered, beheaded and ass raped in a gutter.
But if they are anything like me, not one of them actually gives a shit. They all know that eventually the person who has fucked up will salvage a meal from somewhere.
Yet they continue to stand, gormlessly, wishing someone would set the ball in motion and sit down before our appetising dinner trays comprising a bowl of sticky rice, cabbage salad as bland as the James Blunt dungeon scenario, and a scrap of miscellaneous fish, are colder than their dead Emperor.
The epic conversation to come up with a solution to this frequent problem brings me onto another point.
The language.
You don't need to speak Japanese to get by in Japan.
Once you realise that nothing is actually being said, except an amalgamation of meaningless expressions, it becomes clear that Japanese proficiency is far from a necessity.
Japanese people talk a lot. But time has told me everything they say is merely a running commentary of their surroundings.
Supermarket shopping was once a daunting experience, the checkout lady's lips a blur as she muttered away faster than the speed of sound. Once it was brought to my attention that she is doing nothing more than naming every single package, its content and price, I was able to relax and offer the occasional supportive nod.
A typical and mandatory conversation, when arriving home late for a meal goes a little something like this:
"I'm back"
"You're back"
"I started eating before you"
"I am starting eating now, after you"
"I've finished eating."
"I've finished eating."
A prime example of the most pointless of foreign languages arose at a recent snowboarding excursion.
Opting to spend the afternoon in a two-hour "snowboard school," the instructor spoke for more than half an hour to explain two key points relating to the popular winter sport.
1. How to attach your feet to the board.
2. How to attach the pull rope to your trousers.
Japanese people refer to this as thorough. English would opt for something more along the lines of "time-wasting" and demand their cash back from the "fucking money grabbing whores."
Impatient and desperate to hit the slopes, after 90 minutes we finally mounted the ski lift, making our ascent to the summit of the bunny run. Here we were abandoned by our instructor, who had taught us nothing, yet claimed that "time was up" as she glided away until she was nothing but a spot in the distance.
Once can only hope she ploughed head first into a very big tree.
Two hours later and 3,500 yen lighter, I seemed to have taken a backward step back
from my debut outing on the slopes. Rather like the toilet situation, snowboarding experiences range from one extreme to the other.
My previous instructor, having explained nothing, dragged me, snowboard attached to one foot, to the ski-lift. I fell off at the top, twisted my knee and got twatted around the head by the next approaching chair. Every time.
But at least I could board by the end of the day.
Another example of a language reflecting this nation of procrastinating faffers, comes following a visit to the immigration office to obtain a nursery teacher certificate.
Taking good friend and translator Trevor along for moral support, he spoke with the man behind the counter for what felt like hours.
The general gist of the conversation?
Office worker: "Japanese instrumental - 15 minutes,"
Trevor (to me): - "so stick this in your passport yeah?"
Me: "okay, cheers."
Office worker: (translation) - "Wow you said that so quickly in English (which also took considerably longer to spit out in Japanese."
To cut a long story short, I have discovered that by saying "hai (yes)" during the odd pause when a speaker pauses for breath, the end result will be what was originally intended.
Except with food.
With food it can bring some nasty surprises.
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