I neglected to inform those following of my travels of my reintegration into Canadian society.
Yes I'm home, safe and sound. Medical insurance paperwork has been submitted, the last Indonesian postcards have arrived, and I've been to the dentist. Life is, for all intents and purposes, back to normal.
Except that I still live out of a backpack and am sleeping on peoples couches...

My last four days in Tokyo were awesome. I touched down in the chilly city to a sunny reception. I pulled my single pair of pants over my Balinese Billabongs and slipped into a pull over. Immigration was clear at 7am and I whicked thourgh with no difficulty. Customs threatened to reveal my overage of alcohol (gifts, some of which would be unloaded in Tokyo) but they dismissed a thorough search upon my partial confession.
With no one to meet me at Narita, I headed over to the currency exchange and unloaded my remaining Rupiahs for Yen. (PS. There is a huge airport tax, 100 000Rp, at Depansar airport - be prepared for that if you go). I found my way back down to the subway system and bought a 1400Y ticket to Shibuya. After a few transfers I found myself standing amidst a mass of Japanese businessmen outside of the Hachiko exit of Shibuya station; one of the busiest stations in Tokyo. I stood in my summery clothes with my backpack along the sidelines until my friend Ryan appeared from the bowels of the Denentoshi Line. Hungry from my minimeal aboard JAL, we set off across the street to a favourite sushi bar for a spot of lunch. My sense of value since I was in Japan the first time was vastly different and so I had trouble digesting the hefty price of 106Y per plate of sushi. I only ate 7 plates, Ryan more like 11.
The next few days I spend living the high life, artificially for me, less so for Ryan. Big nights out at the small bars in Kawasaki, Isakayas here and there, always good food. I wandered out to my Japanese family in Machida for a magnificent visit with Akiko. For the first time in awhile I stopped being a tourist...
Then came the 24th of February - the day I was due to leave. I bid Ryan farewell and set off to the New Tokyo Airport with Akiko. 1600Y later we arrived and I checked in. Something was wrong though. Somehow an error was made. Or rather, somehow I made an error. It turns out that I had become disillusioned about the date of my departure and arrived a day late. Today's flight was full. Shit! Bugger. Now what? I was very pleasant and so were the airline agents, and somehow they were able to SQUEEZE me in. No choice of aisle or window seat; no emergency exits, but I was on the flight!

The flight was wonderful. Shorter than it seemed to be on the way over, but not really. I sat next to a Canadian who thought she was Indian and a Mexican who thought he was Australian. On a Thursday morning before we left we saw the sun rise over Vancouver Island, then set down in the sunny city of Vancouver. When I left Vancouver had been the megametropolis; the British Columbian epitome of busy urban life. The centre of activity.
Upon landing it was clear that Vancouver is a beautiful and quiet minimetropolis; the 2.5 million occupants spreading out thinly over the vast floodplains of the Fraser River. On the ride back from the airport to my old apartment in Burnaby revealed just how this city slumbers when compared to Tokyo, Jakarta, Singapore, Manila, or Bangkok. It sure is a gorgeous place, though.