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Jessica Sier
Journalist
Jessica Sier is an experienced economics and technology journalist currently serving as the North Asia Correspondent for The Australian Financial Review in Tokyo, Japan.
She holds a Bachelor of Journalism with a focus on Journalism from the Queensland University of Technology and is a former student of Hillbrook Anglican School.
Jessica has an extensive professional background, having previously worked in various roles at reputable organizations such as The Australian Financial Review, Freelance, Dow Jones, Sendle, Spaceship, and Sky News Australia.
Her previous roles include being a Technology Journalist, Automotive Journalist, Content Lead, Head of Content, Technology Reporter, Markets Reporter, and Video Journalist.
With a wealth of experience in journalism and content strategy, Jessica Sier continues to make significant contributions to the field through her work as a correspondent in North Asia.
Highlights
In Sydney, whenever I was feeling a bit lonely or bored, I'd pop down to the pub.
I'd order a pint and strike up a conversation with other bar flies wiling away the hours.
In Tokyo, my Japanese is so miserable the locals beg me with their eyes not to speak with them. And besides, the "pub culture" doesn't really exist like it does in Australia.
Fortunately, I've recently discovered listening cafés, or "kissa".
These tiny bars, hundreds of which are dotted around Tokyo, are for concentrating on absorbing music. They are not for chatting; they are not for eating.
They are for listening to records piped through elaborately set-up stereo systems that range as widely as the genres of music their owners have spent lifetimes collecting on vinyl.
I interviewed music devotee and director Nick Dwyer, who has just screened his six-part documentary on Japanese "kissa" culture.
Since we met -- over a vape at the Eigakan Jazz listening café in Bunkyo -- I've visited one of these delightful venues at least once a week.
I get to be surrounded by quietly drinking strangers without the pressure of having to speak to them. Everyone’s a winner.
Here’s a story about Nick’s documentary and some of the kissas I’ve been frequenting.
https://lnkd.in/gb5KiSb4
On Tuesday, I watched Penny Wong’s slick, black motorcade pull away from me on the border of North and South Korea. My stomach sank.
I had just stepped out of a black van, after a tense ten minutes interviewing the Foreign Minister on how dangerous the nuclear-armed despot running North Korea was. The despot who ran the country less than two kilometres from where I was standing.
As my shoes hit the steaming asphalt, I realised I was clutching just my notebook and phone. My bag, which housed my laptop and my passport, was nowhere in sight.
I had memories of it leaning against a chair during Wong’s press conference at the DMZ, the weapons-free buffer between North and South Korea.
As I stammered out my confession: I’ve forgotten my bag, ten pairs of blank, serious eyes swivelled to look at me.
The motorcade was already 15 minutes behind schedule, and the Foreign Minister was due back in Seoul for an estimated 12,000 bilateral meetings and a working lunch. There was no way they were turning back to get the journalist’s bag.
As I stood by the side of the road, wishing the ground would swallow me whole, phone calls were made. Orders were barked. Defence force personal materialised from thin air to protect the motorcade.
“Okay, the boys will bring it down from the DMZ and they’ll drive you back to Seoul,” I was told. My feeble gratitude was drowned by a flurry of movement as the motorcade sprang into life.
Lights flashed, security personal slammed doors, and within seconds, six black cars snaked away from me and headed for the freeway.
I watched them leave, glad my mother had no idea where I was or what an arse I’d just made of myself.
And then I wrote this story:
