Certification Cards: Sport Diving's Aid to Picking Up Girls

Hey girl, wanna get wet?

Snorkelling is for big girls and sissies. Real men; tough, grab-life-by-the-balls men go SCUBA diving. SCUBA, after all, has loads of equipment. Stuff like valves and regulators and cylinder thingies. You know, the real technical stuff that only tough, black-clad hero types can possibly understand. And of course, you need training; tough, stamina-stretching, mind-challenging training. The sort of training that needs to be delivered by tough, hard trainers who, in another life, would have been NASA pilots or special forces soldiers had they not had flat feet, weren’t scared of the dark and didn't have to take care of their dad's photocopying business. And, once you completed this training for heroes you get certified!

Anyone can snorkel, but only real tough guys are bona fide divers with a plastic laminated id cards to prove it. Right? The idea that being a certified recreational diver makes you some kind of underwater James Bond is, and always has been, complete nonsense. Yet, amongst some sports diving enthusiasts and lets face it, a lot of instructors, the belief still persists. We’ve all met the pub bore whose list of career experiences exceeds the years they’ve actually been alive and they are properly found in all recreational sports but for some reason they seem particularly drawn to the world of SCUBA diving. One reason for this, in our opinion, is the sheer number of “professional diving” courses you can take and subsequently all those lovely laminated cards you can collect. But is the world of badge collecting SCUBA tough guys under threat? For a few years now the world of recreational diving has been dramatically changing, so much so that SCUBA diving has become… well passé. You see nowadays, real adventurous men with their beautiful, adventurous and tough bikini-clad girlfriends now go freediving, which is diving without all the faff – no tanks, no tubes, no regulators, etc. etc.

Imagine how galling it must be for tough guy Brad, to flash his laminated boat diver card like an FBI agent at the sexy blonde sitting at the bar, only to have her raise a perfectly manicured eyebrow and whisper “oh darling, I only date men who can hold their breath for ten minutes" then wink suggestively. All that pool training, all that money spent on buoyancy control devices and plastic laminated cards that certify you as a shore diver, underwater photographer and advanced bubble blower and you can’t even use them to pick up girls anymore. Now before SCUBA fraternities around the world get all hot and bothered and threaten to whip us with their hoses think about it for a minute. Apart from getting an extra luggage allowance from the airline why would you need these ID’s if it’s not to impress girls at bars? Who has ever been stopped by the beach police and asked to prove they’re licenced to use the SCUBA tanks they’re putting on or that they’ve undergone a course of instruction on reading a dive computer? The answer is no one. Ever! More of this later, but let’s get back to those tough guy sports divers getting frustrated at having freedivers stomping all over their macho turf. How are they going to get laid now? Well, if you can’t beat them, join ‘em. The beautiful world of freediving could be yours Brad, you just need err…. some training.

That though is the problem. Who exactly do you go to to get that training? After all there aren’t that many expert freedivers in the world, mainly due to the fact that the majority of the worlds best freedivers tend to kill or maim themselves by… Well freediving.

But that problem seems to have been swept aside, because now, the same people who can teach to you to fall off a boat with style or waddle into the sea from shore or even take a professional underwater holiday snap can now teach you to freedive. Yep the SCUBA diving organisations of the world have spotted the changing trend in recreational diving that threatens to stop bubble blowers picking up girls at bars and are surfing to the rescue.

If there is a something you want to do underwater, the diving organisations probably have a course for it. Which brings us back to the these courses, the ID cards that come with them and the question of how?

Are you certified to do that?

How can there be instructors out there who are qualified to teach SCUBA, photography, videography, cave diving, tech diving, underwater sculpture, deep-sea mountaineering and now freediving as well? All right we made two of those up. But we think you get the point.

Now if you any of you have heard of Malcolm Gladwell you will know of his 10000-hour theory. Simply put, you need to have carried out 10000 hours of deliberate practice to become an expert. Assuming you did nothing else but practice for eight hours a day, every day, it would still take you almost three and half years to become an expert at something. Something like… Say.... Open water diving. And, assuming you want to be taught by an expert and not some nineteen year-old surfer dude on a gap year, that means the person who’s teaching you to dive from a boat should have many, many years of boat diving experience. If they also taught freediving, underwater photography, tech diving and cave diving as well then they would have spent around seventeen and half years practicing themselves and that’s before they have learnt to teach. All in all, if such an expert instructor existed, and they don’t, then they would have spent the best part of two decades of careful practice before they even met their first student. Possible from a time point of view maybe, but hardly from a financial one. After all, no one moves to Bali to become a diving instructor because they are a raging success in their own country.

Gladwell’s theory does, we agree, tend to fall down a bit since there is such a thing as skill transference and aggregation of experiential learning and it recent times it has come in for some heavy criticism. But it does point at a clear problem in the world of recreational diver training which is that most of it is utter garbage. In fact it is the training organisations themselves that seem to be fueling the Walter Mitty mentality that permeates the sport.

The problem is one of regulation. You cannot get a licence to drive a car without undergoing an independent test and nor can you fly a plane or even parachute out of it without undergoing an examination of your skill by an external assessor. And you can’t be a special forces soldier without undergoing rigorous assessment of your physical and mental capabilities. Yes you can buy the badge and pretend you are one but you’re not and never will be because it’s tough, very tough and the forces weed out those who are not up to standard. Wanting to just use the badge to pick up girls is unlikely to be enough motivation to get you through that sort of course.

In the world of sport diving no such standard exists. The same people who train you are the same people who certify you and in such a self-regulating world the idea that the person who takes your hard earned bucks to train you to dive is at the end of the course going to say “sorry mate, you're crap at this” and refuse to certify you is just ludicrous.

The training organisations are in it for the money and telling their students that the training they’ve just spent their money on has led to nothing is a quick way of going bust or getting sued. Of course if such a standard did exist, if each nation had a law that said an externally assessed sport diving certification was a legal requirement for diving in their jurisdiction then the same organisations would probably get sued to destruction anyway. Would this be a bad thing? We don’t thing so. In such a world, the number and types of course would fall dramatically, training would be globally recognised, organisations would be legally accountable and instructors would be externally assessed yearly to ensure that they really were experts and not just selling cards that you can use to  pick up girls at bars.

I think we're gonna be sick!

This of course will never happen anytime soon since the training organisations would fight tooth and nail to stop their business model going belly up overnight. But maybe one day it will. But for now tough guy SCUBA divers will be able to train to dive without tanks and sexy blondes will still have laminated cards flashed in their faces and endure long lectures at the bar about breath hold techniques ad nauseam.

For the rest of us though, we will still know that most freedivers never underwent any formal training, never paid to get a laminated piece of card and never ever had anyone train them to fall off a boat. We will know that far from being for sissies, snorkelling is still the best route into recreational freediving and spearfishing and it always has been. Remember skin diving anyone? And we will know that SCUBA diving is full of phony expensive courses, taught by trainers who aren’t experts, designed so that Walter Mitty types have a chance at getting laid.

And for those sexy girls in bars we offer this piece of advice. If you ever meet someone who shows you a freediving certification card, prepare for a long and boring evening of tough guy talk or make your excuses and go find some snorkellers. We don’t have cards that certify we can hold our breath but we do know what to do with a snorkel.

Here’s some links to diver ready. A pretty good YouTube channel where the host outlines some of the utter nonsense that infests the sport diving world.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-0s-qPErecA

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LWTmwasCCUY

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vH43G4HE3VA

And here is one of our other posts about freediving courses.

https://snorkelclub.blogspot.com/2015/11/badges-we-dont-need-no-stinking-badges.html

Full-Face Snorkel Masks Save The World! Err... No

The sun is shining, the temperature is rising and thoughts turn to palm trees swaying in a sultry breeze, warms waters lapping against shore and the delights of dipping beneath azure waters to gaze upon Cousteau's underwater empire. Unfortunately though, such thoughts must be put on an indefinite hold as Covid-19 or SARS 2, The Revenge, as it is probably being called in Hollywood meetings, wreaks havoc on the tourism and aviation industry alike.

Still if you can't actually partake of your beloved water sport, you can still gain a modicum of pleasure in browsing the interwebby looking for some new whizzy bit of kit. There is nothing that enthusiasts of all sports like better than owning a new piece of tech. And there is nothing that sports kit manufacturers like better than selling us their shiny new gizmos, gadgets and thingamajigs that, they assure us, will make us look cool and fashionable the next time we go to the beach or step onto that dive boat.

Let’s face it; we’re all guilty of this aren’t we? Who among us hasn’t disposed of a perfectly usable piece of gear and replaced it with something we really didn’t need but it was a “bargain” and it looks soooooo good?

There are of course people who take such guilty pleasures too far. These people are called PADI diving instructors. Then there are people who don't go far enough. For this second group of people being cool and fashionable on the beach can be achieved with a single purchase, for they believe that coolness comes not from a natty rash vest, a snazzy wetsuit or even a body shape that resembles something faintly human. For them all water sport chic is wrapped up in a single piece of sci-fi wizardry, the full-face snorkel mask. These people are called many things, none of which is polite. But spare a thought for these people for in this dark and cloudy time their world is becoming even less pleasant.

Decathlon, the French originators of the first full-face mask are limiting purchases of their full-face masks to just 2 per person. This means that the poor, fashion challenged, purchasers of these masks are denied the chance to own every available colour these things come in. Oh the inhumanity of it all…!  Imagine having to go to the beach in your blue shorts and not having a blue mask to match. And let’s not forget the poor wives, in their pink bikinis, not being able to get a matching pink mask to complete the ensemble and having to make do with the boring white one instead!

I SAID. WE SHOULD HAVE GONE TO THAT LECTURE ON HAND SIGNALS

Why is this happening? Well apparently, scientists, medics, students and people in sheds across the world are busily retrofitting full-face masks and turning them into ventilators and personal protective equipment in order to support the global fight against the pesky virus. Manufacturers like Decathlon are assisting in this by helping with supply and advice and therefore stocks are reduced.

Anyone who’s read our previous pieces on full-face masks couldn’t help but notice that we are not fans of these things. We think that they are…. how can we put this… not very good at all. But even we couldn’t have a problem with them being used in the battle against Covid could we? Err… Yeah we could.

Putting aside the ingenuity of the boffins and shed workers who are refitting these masks and their undoubted desire to help for one minute and assuming that Decathlon and other manufacturers are being nothing but altruistic in their assistance, we still feel a little uncomfortable about all this.

Imagine for instance that you are rushed into hospital panting like an asthmatic hippo, your lungs ridden with virus. You’d want the medics to use everything in their armoury to help you right? You’d want ventilators, drugs and computer panels that beep and flash every twenty seconds. But would you want a doctor to pull out a pink plastic full-face snorkel mask with a balloon thingy attached and slap it on your face. Would you? Really?

Let’s face it, lying in a hospital bed all wheezy and pale with cannulas in your veins and tubes shoved up your never-regions is not exactly dignified. To then have your head cocooned in what resembles Darth Vader’s summer dress helmet seems like adding insult to injury. Particularly if you remember that full-face snorkelling masks have inherent flaws that mean they aren’t much good for snorkelling and those same inherent flaws will probably mean they aren’t much good as ventilators either. This would be a stopgap at best, a temporary make-do solution to the very real problem of not having enough proper ventilators in the first place. And it will make your wheezing even worse, when it dawns on you that not only may you die because your hospital hasn’t got enough proper medical equipment, you may suffer an even worse indignity and actually be saved by a $30 beach toy. This of course would be catastrophic for healthcare systems around the world as public confidence is eroded by news of your miraculous survival.

After all what’s the point of ploughing loads of money into healthcare? Why should doctors and nurses go through all that training and what have all those research and development scientists being doing for years if the solution to treating Covid patients turns out to be a spotty student in a shed in Belgium who’s stuck a plastic thingy on a mask designed for fat people to go snorkelling in? That’s like a an Olympic skier finding out that he’d probably be better off slapping two planks of wood to his feet or an aircraft designer discovering that propellers really do work better when powered by elastic bands. It’s just too mad to think about. Science, medicine and research the world over would be a laughing stock.

But before you get all hot under the collar at such a thought we can ease yours and our own discomfort a little. You see despite myriad articles on the web explaining how and why these masks are being reconfigured, there is no actual evidence that we can find to prove that they have worked as ventilators at all. Yes there are a lot of clever people out there fiddling with things and trying to prove to their wives that the 3-d printer they bought wasn’t a waste of money but are they actually achieving anything other than publicity? We’re not so sure.

Old-School

So perhaps it’s not quite time to throw the towel in on developing proper ventilators and other medical kit. And maybe engine designers shouldn’t rush to invest in rubber just yet.

Our discomfort about all of this is further eased by the fact that these masks may have a role as personal protective equipment. Clearly the purpose of any PPE is to provide a barrier to the infection and these masks do that as long as they are fitted with a filter. Although the nurses and doctors working in ITU will probably not be too thrilled to wear them. If your putting your life on the line in Covid wards we imagine that you’d probably prefer to be wearing a certified mask that has been safety checked and tested to ensure it does actually provide protection rather than being handed something that’s been knocked up in a Berlin apartment by a student dress designer called Otto.

Still that doesn’t mean that members of the public couldn’t make use of them to help in the easing of lockdown. Mr and Mrs Average Joe can wear them as they go go about their daily business right? Well yes, as long as that business doesn’t actually mean moving about much. You see as we pointed out, these masks have inherent flaws in their design. The manufacturers even state in their marketing guff that if you use them for snorkelling, which is what they were designed for remember, you cannot swim with them on or exert yourself too much as you will quickly find that the design hinders your breathing. That’s right, the Easy-breath suddenly becomes the very hard-to-breath. So we imagine if you were wearing these things as a anti-covid mask while walking to work or heaven forbid, running for a bus, you are likely to end up needing one of those real ventilators that hospitals have run out of.

Still if you have one of those masks at the back of the wardrobe and it’s in a colour you like you might want to put it on, sit yourself down and loose yourself in the 24 hour television coverage of doom and gloom. But then if you’re staying in doing nothing, why do you need a mask at all?

For more in-depth info on why we dislike these masks read our over posts here and here. Or you can read an excellent critique of them on Scuba Doctor here.

Oh one last thing, We do know the difference between BIPAP, CPAP and Ventilators. And we know that the retrofit is geared towards BIPAP but since the media everywhere are referring to them as ventilators (which shows that a lot of people don't know what they're talking about) we thought we would refer to them in the same way. Now, tongues back out of cheeks please.....

Typhoons, Snorkelling and Men With Funny Shaped Balls: Japan 2019

Miyakojima Island: A DSC Quick Guide

Who are you looking at?

It’s only April and already 2020 is turning into a year to forget. The Covid-19 virus is front and centre in everyone’s mind with half the world’s population going into house arrest, economies going bankrupt and every Tom, Dick and Harry coming up with designs for new ventilators, which it turns out may not be the best way to treat patients. Then there are journalists, politicians and academics the world over systematically blaming China, Donald Trump and each other for the handling (or lack of it) of the situation.

So, to try and take your mind off the calamity unfolding outside of your window let’s take you back to 2019. You remember 2019, it was the year that journalists, politicians, academics and media commentators the world over told us we’d all die of starvation because of Brexit or that bearded Jihadis’ would brutally murder any man who let their wife go shopping without covering their ankles first and of course, it was all Donald Trumps fault. Oh and a certain Jeremy Corbyn would become Prime Minister of the UK. We’ll give you a minute to stop laughing about the last one….

In September 2019 we were boarding a flight from Paris to Tokyo eagerly anticipating the thrills, spills and crunching tackles of the Rugby World Cup. We would have loved to flown direct from Heathrow but such was the draw to this particular tournament that half of England, two thirds of Scotland and Ireland and seemingly the entire population of Wales were heading in the same direction. Consequently flights from the UK were either full or so expensive that we would have had to re-mortgage our own homes and most of our neighbours ones as well. Fortunately the French clearly believed their team had little or no chance of doing well in the tournament and so flights out of France were bereft of rugby fanatics and consequently very reasonably priced. At least that’s what we thought, turns out the reason our flight was so reasonably priced and so bereft of rugby’s hordes was because it was an Air France flight and no one it seems wanted to travel Air France. Something we now fully understand. Air France has the hardest, most uncomfortable seats you could imagine, the in-flight entertainment was appalling, the food inedible and they only had one can of beer aboard which apparently was being shared amongst the first-class passengers. We were offered wine of course, but since we consider wine to be at best, a drink for old women and children and at worst, even less appealing than badgers spit we declined and settled down for a cramped, grumpy sleep.

Japan is a long, long, long way when your buttocks are imprisoned in a seat that would make a spiked railing feel comfy, but our aching behinds were forgotten when we finally arrived in Tokyo. Fans from twenty nations mingled gleefully with the locals sharing beer and jokes whilst bemused Americans wandered around the neon lit streets wondering what on Earth was going on. The whole city throbbed with expectation. Japan has been involved in the world’s greatest rugby tournament from its inception but had only recently made its mark, having beaten the South Africans (rugby royalty) with a last ditch try in the previous tournament in 2015. Now every citizen of Japan seemed to have donned the red and white striped samurai shirt of the national team and confidence imbued by their teams coming of age against the Springboks, felt they too could now discuss the finer points of a rolling maul, line out plays and the need to earn the right to go wide with their peers from England, Australia, New Zealand and of course South Africa – all former world champions. Japan awaited, electric, primed, glory really could be theirs. This was going to be a tournament to savour. However, anyone who knows much about Japan would probably tell you that holding an international sporting event in the middle of Typhoon season is not a very good idea and they unfortunately would be proved right but that was in the future and as the tournament progressed and Japan began dismantling reputations with their fast and relentless style of rugby we took the opportunity to take a break from the beers and funny shaped balls to head south to Japan’s version of the Caribbean. We are the Dangerous Snorkelling Club after all and never miss an opportunity to get wet on the outside as well as the inside. So we boarded a flight to Okinawa and then onto Miyakojima.

Marine Garden

Miyakojima is a green jewel embedded in an azure sea. Its beaches are wide strokes of pristine white sand and its waters are crystal clear. This at least, is what the tourist guff will tell you and in normal times we are sure it is true. But we arrived on the island between those two future typhoons that had suddenly loomed onto the radar, the first having only just cleared the island as our plane touched down at Miyako airport, the next was due to make landfall within forty eight hours. So the air was dense, clammy and claustrophobic and the water would be murkier than a Chinese government report but we’ve snorkelled in worse conditions and Miyakojima boasts some of the best coral reefs in the world. So braced for disappointment and yet keen to dive in we headed to the southern coastal resort of Shigira. Japan can be a perplexing place at the best of times, its language seems to hark back to the days of hieroglyphs and although the Japanese have developed a taste for all things modern and electric they haven’t managed to master the art of using a knife or fork yet. That said nothing could be more perplexing than finding a colossal Bavarian castle smack bang in the centre of Shigira. To make matters worse it's pink. And no, we weren’t drunk; there really is a giant pink German castle in Shigira. It’s part of what’s called the Ueno German Cultural Village and it was closed for the duration. Our first thoughts were a knee-jerk assumption that it was linked to Japan’s military past when they were part of the Axis alliance but not wanting to upset the locals (Japan’s WW2 history is a sore point at the best of times) we avoided too many questions on the subject. Turns out our assumptions were wrong and its existence is all down to an act of heroism by the locals when they rescued survivors from a German ship back in 1873. Read about it here.

There are many great spots to go snorkelling in Miyako but in the short time we had on the Island we opted for three spots we’d been told by the locals were the best. The first is Yoshino beach located on the Island's Southeastern corner and a short drive from our base in Shigira. Yoshino beach is one of the most famous snorkelling spots on the island. It sits beneath a precipitous cliff face and is reached by a steep, winding road off highway 83. You can drive straight down to the beach but since parking spaces at the bottom are limited it’s more prudent to park up at the top and pay a few hundred Yen to use the shuttle service that operates from the small diving shop. The beach is long enough to find a quiet space all to your self and although the recent typhoon had done considerable damage to the reef, the marine life was still there in abundance, including several green turtles who patrolled the coral with languid strokes, our presence in their midst prompting little more than the occasional nonchalant glance. Yoshino is a spawning ground for the turtles and its shallow water and normally calm conditions make it a great spot for snorkellers of all abilities but try to arrive early if you want to see the turtles as they tend to drift away into the deeper blue once the beach becomes crowded.

Clown Fish

The second spot is the wonderful Nakanoshima beach on the western flank of Irabu Island located to the North West of Miyako. Irabu Island is reached by driving over the Irabu-Ohashi Bridge, a 3500 metre long undulation of steel and concrete that spans the glistening waters between Irabu and Miyako. It is apparently; the longest bridge in Japan and driving over it brought back memories of cruising over 7-mile-bridge in the Florida Keys. Nakanoshima (referred to by the locals as Kayaffa beach) is a wide bay protected from large waves by the coral reef which makes the waters relatively calm. Although we did find areas of the bay subject to some strong currents so caution is recommended. The waters here abound with clownfish, zipping in and out of large anemones, and puffer fish can be found loitering in rocky crevices. There is a small shack located on the beach where a local rents out oversized wetsuits to tourists but like all of the beaches we visited amenities are limited. There are also no lifeguards on duty and the island authorities lean towards the “your life, your responsibility” attitude which we found quite refreshing. That said if you are a poor swimmer or have never snorkelled before, stick close to shore and never go in the water alone.

On the way back to our hotel we stopped off at a small bakery and experienced one of the most bemusing incidents we had in Japan. We selected some sausage rolls, something’s that looked like custard tarts and some cream buns. We then watched perplexed as the cashier slowly and methodically wrapped each individual item in highly decorated paper, taped them and then placed them into another bag, which was then wrapped up again. The whole process took at least ten minutes and by the time we had paid a large queue had formed behind us. We kid you not she wrapped our cream buns up like a Christmas present. The result was typical Japanese perfection, each item a delightful parcel of paper and tape, including a little bow on some. The downside was all the cream was smeared over the inside of the paper, which does tend to ruin your cream bun experience.

Puffer fish at Nakanoshima

The third and last spot we visited was the Imugya Marine Garden located on the edge of Shigira. The Marine Garden boasts a unique eco-system due to the fact that natural spring water bubbles up from the ocean floor to mix with the seawater. The waters here are calm and sheltered, even in bad weather, making it a Mecca for snorkellers of all abilities. We arrived just as the sun broke the horizon and spent a few lazy hours amongst the corals. Anemones proliferate here, as do sea turtles and the ubiquitous shoals of coral fish. It was a great way to the end the few short days we had on the island and as the second Typhoon neared we packed our bags and headed back to Tokyo for the final array of rugby matches.

Waiting for kick off

Shinjuku, Tokyo

As most know that second Typhoon impacted Japan with a vengeance sending the country and the tournament into chaos. Yet despite some bleating from Scottish quarters and the threat of legal action, only a few games were actually abandoned. Scotland got to play the hosts for a place in the quarter finals and no doubt regretted their screams of “get the lawyers” as Japan not only weathered the early highland charge, they blew it away with a series of devastating attacks that tore the tartan defence to shreds and left Scottish dreams lying in tatters all over the pitch. Japan went on to face South Africa in the quarterfinals, there would however be no repeat of the 2015 glory. Despite endless and valiant attempts to play the game at speed the South African’s were not going to be humiliated again. In a brutal show of defensive strength they suffocated the life out of the brave blossoms and Japan’s world cup was over. The South African display against Japan should have made England, the other eventual finalists, take notice, but sadly they appeared to have overlooked the tactics the Springboks used. For despite putting on the most complete display any English rugby team has produced in their demolition of New Zealand, England had no answer to the South African’s stifling defence. England simply couldn’t cope with the Springboks defensive precision or strangulating tackles and what should have been a glorious free flowing game of rugby descended into a battle of brute strength that only South Africa were ever going to win. South Africa took the crown for a third time in their history (the first final they’d actually scored a try in) and what for many fans was the greatest tournament ever in the history of the world cup was over.

That is a bloody pink castle

If you have no interest in rugby then you’re probably not in the least bit interested in the excitement, the thrills and the sheer unpredictability of the 2019 world cup. A tournament in which the world order was over turned, reputations were made and reputations were destroyed. New Zealand were beatable, England were superb and hapless in equal measure, Wales failed to impress again as did Australia, Japan were bewildering, phenomenal and a pleasure to watch and South Africa were brutal, boring and immovable. Likewise if you have no interest in snorkelling then there is no way we can make you feel the sheer exhilaration of diving beneath the surface, of swimming over coral reefs and drifting alongside turtles. But snorkelling and rugby aside if there is something we would implore you to take from this post it’s this: Go to Japan. Yes the Japanese language is almost incomprehensible and the failure to evolve the chopstick into a something that resembles a fork can be frustrating and waiting for what seems eternity to have your sticky buns wrapped up in tinsel defies logic, but these are small bug bears. Japan is a nation that beguiles, bemuses and inspires in equal measure. From the hustle and bustle of a crowded subway train and the neon seediness of Tokyo nightlife to the sound of gentle waves creaming a coral sand beach, Japan is series of mini adventures and we can’t recommend any of them highly enough.

Oh but don’t fly Air France, your buttocks will never forgive you if you do. 

Miyako-Jima tourist guide including map