Dear diary, Japan part 2

I started the day in a less than good mood (of course usually I arise goddess-like and glowing). We had experienced a mini economic downturn combined with a general financial crisis in the form of an unexpectedly expensive hotel bill. For this reason I was perhaps a little surly when reminded by Mr Bodyboard of my promise.

The previous day during my onsen time (he's learning - I'm barely conscious mid-bath ) Mr Bodyboard requested that I spend some time capturing his image for all eternity tomorrow as the 'swell' (moll terms, big plus lots of waves) would be especially good.
'But of course whatever you want light of my life' I mumbled 'Just pass me another delicious grapefruit canned cocktail'

In the bleary light of day I sighed with disappointment, I had agreed too easily (usually such a request would be time for bargaining, I probably could have gotten a six pack of canned cocktails or at the very least a mystery packaged something from the very exciting Japanese supermarket).

Photo taking is my least favourite moll duty, it is grade seven behaviour and I shirk it wherever possible.

But, as the agreement stood (I figured there was always a chance for post bargaining and was in the mood for something with an overly excited brightly dressed character gesturing wildly on the packaging) I trudged off the the beach to do my lonely work. I say lonely because in Australia we molls generally are. Gone are the pack-moll days of puberty blues when molls would gather in solidarity to while away the hours and enjoy intellectual debates ( 'Shaz your perm looks ace, I reckon a side pony would be really exotic, kind of tribal?'). Now we sit, alone at the bottom of the beach food chain. I think other than surfers it often feels like tuck shop ladies, lifeguards and scantily clad backpackers playing volleyball are all above us. Each moll is isolated, observing the others, and often competitively judging them ('her perm looks friggin sh*thouse and what's with the side pony? Tribal Hussy.')

When I arrived Mr Bodyboard informed me that his friends Y & A were lunching and would be back soon to take some photos with me. I had my doubts as I knew they both surfed and assumed that they would actually join him. However as Mr Bodyboard was about to enter the ocean Y & A arrived, settled down next to me, and asserted their permanence with beach mats and a packed lunch. Embarrassed at my task I glued the camera to my eye hoping to quickly capture the 'moments' and be done with them.

Mr Bodyboard wanted at least five waves worth. That's like five times up and down the catwalk, only the catwalk is liquid and rather than outfit changes they do different wave trick thingys.

As I snuck a glance around I noticed many others with cameras pointed out to sea, and was startled as they met my gaze with proud smiles and nodds of encouragement. I heard Y & A cheering not just for Mr Bodyboard, but for the other surfers as well as if we were watching a sporting match and everyone was their favourite player. Over the next hour our little group grew, as did the others dotted along the beach.

I realized I was in the midst of a Japanese moll pack.

When a really big wave came everyone would whistle and yell out to the surfers, cheering regardless of whether they caught the wave or crashed. Taking photos was suddenly an important job. If Mr Bodyboard was on a wave they would all call out to me and point, then rush over to compare photos with me to see who had gotten the best shot. Y was especially interested and I detected a definite man-friend crush, confirmed when he said 'I crush!' and giggled pointing to Mr Bodyboard.

Suddenly there was no food chain, just a Utopian and symbiotic relationship where surfers and molls were equal & both praised for their work. At one stage I was distracted by a spontaneous baseball game, and my pack molls called frantically to me to let me know there was a great 'trick move thing' about to happen which needed my attention. When I went to the toilet they took turns with the camera, thanking me profusely on my return as if I had allowed them to experience my glory, if only for a moment.

For those few hours moll was no longer a dirty word, it was something to be proud of.

The tiny island of Niijima has put Australian molls to shame. The next time you see a lonely moll go and sit next to her, cheer her on, and maybe even offer a delicious canned cocktail. Remember we are an important (and very good looking I might add) part of the beach circle of life too.

Dear diary, Japan part 1

When strolling along a beach (maybe on a tiny island called Niijima off the coast of Tokyo) most people gaze towards the ocean, watching the waves, and maybe even those on them. Not me. I'm focused on my long term study of the under apruciated ( by our reckoning anyway) moll culture, of which I am a proud member.

Focus your eyes on the shoreline and you will see us there, waiting, watching, and wondering just how long our surfer is going to take today. In Australia we are generally a female dominated group, and from my initial impression I assumed things were the same in Japan. As I strolled along I spied what at first glance appeared to be a traditional moll, with long platted hair and a simple dress, camera in hand & staring vigilantly out to sea.

I smiled at her with love in my heart (which then, I assume, traveled to her through my eyes) for our moll sisterhood. The next day I was filled with surprise as she showed her true colours, coming out of the water wet suited and board in hand! I had been fooled! The previous day she had been watching the ocean for her own benefit, not someone elses.

On closer inspection I have discovered that women in Japan are more inclined to be 'out the back' (that's surfer language for 'in the deep water') & a part of the action. If they are not inclined, you can find them at the bar with their friends, or (in the case of this island) at the local onsen. These women may appear cute and friendly, but a moll can see that as they giggle they are really saying to each other 'If Bazza ever tried to make me watch him surf I'd make origami from his privates' (rough translation of course).

So this situation begs the question, who is left to moll?

It seems Japanese surfers have enlisted the help of male-moll-friends, or fellow surfers. Many of the cars lined up overlooking the beach have man-molls in the front seat, either camera in hand or steadfastly staring at their surfer. As said surfer returns male-moll-friends slap them appreciatively on the back and pass them a towel, full of praise & interested comments that put my surly greeting and pointed glances at my watch to shame.

If a man friend can't be russeled up surfers can still paddle out with confidence, as other surfers spend a minimum of ten minutes pre and post surf vigilantly staring out, making sure no-one goes unwatched and no 'awesome wave riding trick' ( my words not theirs) is missed.

thinking back to Australia I realized that this support network exists there too (it may even be a world wide epidemic) I'd just been too distracted by my own kind to notice before. In every surfer there lies a 10 minute moll, maybe even more, ready to lend their eyes to those in need. Does this make full-time molls an endangered species? Will surfers of the world one day find us obsolete? Is this what we want?

As Mr Bodyboard runs up to me to beg me to film him for ten minutes or 'at least take some photos' I realize that if we are going, it's not going to be soon.