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and put it in the bowl.’
    Some days Merc’s Japanese friends would take me sightseeing when she went to work. Japan was an eye-opening, awesome experience and a wonderful place to visit but, as I discovered a few years later, not to live in.

    I returned to Australia and moved to the Gold Coast, unsure of what I’d do next and unaware that my connection with Japan was about to intensify. I’d been home for about two months when I spotted a cute Japanese boy standing in front of a huge triangular stack of oranges in the fruit section of the supermarket at Pacific Fair. If I hadn’t have just been to Japan I wouldn’t have given him a second glance, as I’d never found Japanese guys attractive before. But I thought, Mmm, he’s cute . . . Cool, I’ll go and speak some Japanese . During the whole ten weeks I really only learnt to say ‘Hi, my name is Schapelle. How are you?’ and ‘123456789’, but I still thought I was pretty smart.
    So I went up to this guy and said in Japanese, ‘Hi, how are you?’
    ‘Ah, who . . . is it me you talk to?’ he replied, pointing at his nose.
    I just thought, Oh, my God, that’s so Japanese . . . Of course I’m talking to you, but I’m not sure I want to any more!
    I said goodbye, and as I turned to walk away, I saw him pull an orange from the very bottom of the stack. My first thought was Noooo! – but it was too late and he sent them flying, like a scene straight out of a Ben Stiller movie.
    I confess I didn’t help him pick them up, because by this point I was thinking, What an idiot . I walked off to finish my shopping. But as I stood in line to pay, he approached me, wanting to continue our abruptly ended conversation. His name was Kimi and, incredibly, he came from Toyama. He’d spent just one month in Australia on a twelve-month working-holiday visa.
    He seemed nice enough, but after I’d paid for my groceries I said goodbye again and went to catch my bus. A few minutes later as I was about to board, he came running over and asked for my phone number. As I’m not used to saying ‘no’ and still thought he was kind of cute-looking, I gave it to him.
    When he called me two weeks later, I invited him to come to my eighteenth birthday party the following night. After that, he shadowed me almost everywhere, every day, just as I used to do to Merc. I liked him and really enjoyed his constant company, but it took almost six months before we became boyfriend and girlfriend. By the time his visa ran out a few months later, we were in love.
    He was my first love and I guess my first real boyfriend. I’d had a boyfriend in high school, but we didn’t actually even kiss because I had braces on my teeth.
    Kimi and I decided that the simplest solution to his visa expiring was for both of us to move to Japan. Being so young and in love, I had no doubts, and I knew Australia would always be home and I could always come back. As it turned out, I could only get a maximum three-month holiday visa, so we regularly returned home to allow me to renew it. By this stage, Merc was no longer living in Japan; she’d moved to Bali with her Balinese boyfriend, Wayan.
    Kimi and I moved to an old fishing village called Omaezaki, which is about four hours south of Tokyo by car. The village gets very strong winds and, as a result, is renowned for its windsurfing. It’s even on the pro circuit. Each year during the pro event, the town would transform into an international hot spot, and in the years I was there, I was given the prestigious job of timekeeper: holding the stopwatch, giving the countdown and blowing the horn as I sat with the judges. The honour had been passed on to me from an English friend who’d had a baby.
    Omaezaki is also well known for its energy windmills and, unfortunately, its nuclear plant. Once a year, we’d get a knock on the front door from the plant’s reps, giving us a thank-you cardwith 50,000 yen (about $60) inside. Every home in the town got the cash