Ever since I started to learn Japanese, I've done a lot of studying on the train to and from work. At first this meant carrying around home-made paper flashcards and a big English to Japanese dictionary, but these days an iPhone can replace both of those and help you do much more – there are apps for flashcards, for learning the stroke order of kanji, and even fully fledged dictionaries.

I've downloaded and tried loads of apps, and even created a few, but here's my personal top five covering everything from basic kana to kanji-lookup.

1 & 2) For learning Hiragana and Katakana

I learned hiragana and katakana before the iPhone existed (sadly – it was a pain), but still need to brush up on my katakana every so often. There are dozens of kana apps, but the best I've found come from a Japanese independent developer called Kenji Hioki (hk2006).

They are rather large to download, but this is because they're packed with audio: the app spells out a word (in the screenshot above right, the audio says: "ku – ku – kuruma… kuruma"), while you tap it out using the kana shown on screen. This helps to build up recognition between the sound and forms, while also teaching you basic vocabulary at the same time.

The hiragana and katakana apps are completely free – I also like his Kanji apps as a quick way to revise basic kanji.

3) For learning Vocabulary

For vocabulary, I've found that nothing works more effectively than flashcards: English on one side, Japanese on the other, so you can learn from Japanese to English first, and then the other way around. There are dozens of flashcard apps, but for me the key thing is ease of adding cards: you need to be able to add them quickly, in bulk, and in either kana or kanji.

It's much easier to do this on a computer, and for that reason I recommend Touchcards 2. This relatively simple flashcards app has one great trick, shown above and to the left: it can import vocabulary from a Google Docs spreadsheet. This means you can easily create and manage huge lists of vocab, then sync them onto the iPhone to learn when you're out and about.

That function aside, it's simple and to the point: you can study cards in both directions, customise the size of the text, study in order or at random, and enable a scoring system when you want.

4) For Kanji, and as a Dictionary

Only a few years ago I had a big, heavy paper dictionary and was tempted to buy a Canon Wordtank. Now, I just use the appropriately named Japanese, by CodeFromTokyo. This great dictionary app is ideal for looking up words by sound (as shown above, you can type phonetically in roman letters), or kanji (by component, SKIP, or handwriting).

It also has a handy lists function (shown above, right), and an extensive flashcard system for learning those. I use this for drilling through kanji – it works for vocab, too, but you can't set kanji or kana display per item or add cards that aren't forms in the dictionary. The app costs $10, but that's ridiculously cheap considering just how much it can do.

4) For Verbs

A huge disclaimer here: I made, and I sell, this app. But the reason for that is that there wasn't a good one available before. There comes a time – after you've picked up kana, and a bunch of vocabulary – where you'll need to start learning various verb forms beyond the simple masu / masen / mashita / masendeshita ones, and I wanted a way to learn these in a flashcard-like fashion. So, here's my Japanese Verbs app, which does just that.

The app is free, with ten basic verbs included, and teaches the masu, dictionary (plain), nai, ta, and te forms of each, along with English translations and classification (Regular 1, 2, irregular). You choose the verbs you want, pick the front and back of each card – English to Dictionary, say – and then drill through the flashcards. A 99c / 69p in-app purchase unlocks 35 more verbs, covering most basic tasks. A second app teaches transitive and intransitive pairs.

So those are the Japanese apps that never leave my iPhone. If you've got a recommendation for another I should try, please leave it in the comments below or tweet it to @tomroyal.

If you have any interest in Japanese cinema, animated or not, you don't miss a chance to see a new film from Studio Ghibli. Last night I was lucky enough to catch a screening of コクリコ坂から (Kokkuriko Zaka Kara – From Coqueliot Hill – released as From Up on Poppy Hill), released last summer in Japan, and not due in English-speaking territories until 2013, if at all.

Directed by Goro Miyazaki but with a screenplay co-adapted by his father, it's a more straightforward film than most recent Ghibli releases, with none of the magical realism or flights of fantasy. That could be in part because it's adapted – from a shoujo manga, in this case – but Poppy Hill also notably lacks the environmental themes that Miyazaki Sr worked into even his adaptation of the Borrowers (借りぐらしのアリエッティ).

Instead, this is a fairly straightforward coming of age story set in 1963-64 (if I remember right from newspaper cuttings shown) Yokohama. Matsuzaki Umi, eldest daughter of the central family, runs a guesthouse and goes to school, where she meets Kazama Shun, who runs a school newspaper from out of a fantastically wrecked clubhouse called – inexplicably – the Quartier Latin, which is threatened with demolition.

Given that hint of narrative, you could probably take a shot at guessing the rest of the plot. But that's not really the point – this is, more than anything, nostalgia, and the glorious hand-drawn animation works brilliantly at conjuring up an often twilit lost world of mid-60s optimism as Japan prepares for the coming Olympics, and on that level it's hugely enjoyable. The soundtrack is also notably marvellous.

Sadly I wonder if this Japan-centric subject matter will limit the likelihood of a wide release in the UK and abroad, so if you do get a chance to catch From Up on Poppy Hill at a film festival, grab it with both hands. Oh, and a side-note: if you're studying Japanese, most of the language in the film is pretty straightforward, so pick up a Japanese R2 DVD maybe.

Other occasional Ghibli-stuff on this blog: I previewed Ponyo way back when, and visited the Ghibli Museum, Mitaka

I've just returned from reporting on Computex Taipei 2011 – another trip that means lugging all my usual reporting stuff plus a laptop, two cameras and all the gear that goes with them. This time, though, I took a secret weapon: a LowePro Fastpack 250 camera bag. Before buying it I wasn't sure if everything would fit in, or if it would do the job. So, in case you're looking for something similar, here's how I got on with it. The video above shows what you can fit in each pocket.

What it holds

The Fastpack has five pockets. Two are small and suitable for cables, passes etc. The big ones are the laptop pocket, the camera section and the top pocket. The laptop pocket holds the computer up against your back, and is padded on both sides. It takes a Macbook Pro 15 comfortably (about 5cm to spare at the top) and zips up securely.

The camera pocket has three sections: one for a DSLR and two on the sides. It'll take a lens measuring up to 18cm long, but if yours is smaller a divider allows the rest to be used as a fourth compartment for another lens or charger etc. My D80 camera body fits with loads of room on both sides, so I think it'd take any pro-sized DSLR without trouble. The side pockets are roughly 17cm by 5cm by 13cm deep, and can be divided into two shallower units each. I managed to pack my Sony HD camera into one, with the divider holding it securely, and a shotgun microphone on top.

The whole camera pocket zips closed, and I had no worries that it would fall open. A flap secures over the top with two plastic clips.

The top pocket is surprisingly big. It'll just about take an iPad, plus several notepads, power adapters and cables. It becomes a bit fiddly to use when packed full, but at least you can get everything in there. A few pockets hold pens, cards and so on.

Using it

The rucksack straps are padded well, and there's also a belt – this isn't padded, and isn't terribly comfortable, but it does help to take some of the load when the bag is really full. Otherwise, just the back straps should be sufficient. There's a decent grab handle on top for hauling it in and out of luggage lockers, tube trains etc. It's important to note that the camera pocket is not suitable for quick access: it takes a minute or so to get equipment in or out, so this is one for lugging gear when not in use. The bag fits into the overhead compartment of a plane easily.

Water, etc

I dragged the bag around Taipei in the rain and >90% humidity. Nothing got wet or broken, but unlike other LP kit there's no fully waterproof cover. I'd call it 'showerproof' – if going somewhere really wet you'll need something better, or a separate cover.

Buying it

So, would I recommend it? If you only need a camera bag, no – get something smaller and fully waterproof. If on the other hand you need to lug loads of kit on aircraft, knowing that it'll be protected from travelling knocks, then absolutely: the Fastpack does everything I hoped it would and more.

This model usually costs around £80, but is available from Amazon here for around £50. A larger version that can take 17in laptops is available here – the RRP is £90 or so, but Amazon has this for under £50 (less than the smaller model).

A few people have asked, so here's a review of sorts: if you love the book, should you see the film?

Two disclaimers up front: I'm no film expert, just an idiot with a history of low-rent literary criticism. Your level of agreement may vary. Also, I'm focusing purely on the perspective of those who know the book. If you haven't read it, please stop here as I am going to spoil it in a huge, horrible way – go buy a copy. The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle is great, too, as are Murakami's other novels – they are, to a great extent, the reason I spend hours every weekend battering my head into kanji textbooks and the conjugation of regular-1 and regular-2 Japanese verbs.

And with that out of the way: there's both a lot to like and dislike in this film adaptation.

First of all, the good stuff. This is, no doubt, a tough novel to film – there's a lot in it, it's written from within a frame where the central character narrates back historically, and some decent chunks are explicit in a way that's going to be hard to film without it looking either pornographic or just naff – but the director has clearly made an effort to create something more than a television movie. Although quite a bit of the plot is omitted, little is changed. Some of the acting is excellent and none is poor, and a few of the scenes (the dinner with Nagasawa and Hatsumi, in particular, and the pacing scene out at the sanatorium with Watanabe and Naoko) are really very well done.

It's also important to note the overwhelming artfulness of the cinematography. Every single shot in the film has been made to count, from huge vistas of the countryside to the panning close-ups of just about every conversation and the macro wildlife shots used to break scenes. A few fairly peripheral scenes – one in the university, and another introducing Nagasawa and Hatsumi – use long huge tracking shots that are genuinely breathtaking.

The problem, though, is that I found myself noticing how the camera was moving, rather than what was actually happening. And although the clever filming has much to do with that, I think it also demonstrates that the story doesn't have the same arresting power in this adaptation as it does in the novel.

There are other, bigger, problems, though. The film is two hours long, so some cuts from the book were probably unavoidable, but some are strange: at one point Midori apologises for arriving late to meet Watanabe, but only those who remember the novel will know why, as that part of their close-distant-close relationship isn't included. Similarly, the dinner scene with Nagasawa and Hatsumi may be a highlight, but it arrives in a blink of an eye with no explanation.

Watanabe's commentary on the student occupations is missing, Reiko's background is cut out completely, leaving events at the end of the novel isolated and almost nonsensical, and the significance of the song "Norwegian Wood" is stripped out entirely – Reiko sings it, as do the Beatles over the credits. No plane, no connection to Naoko, no money in a jar, no point.

And if the director might have been forced to cut stuff out, you have to wonder why on earth several scenes are added. Kizuki's suicide is shown, rather than described in the past tense, and Naoko's death is handled in a manner that's not only less powerful than the novel but, in my opinion, borderline distasteful. Watanabe's subsequent journey into the countryside is reduced to five minutes of awful overblown yowling that's so bad I comtemplated leaving the cinema, while Hatsumi's character also deserves better than the way her death is handled here.

And finally, the ending. The ending of Norwegian Wood is, to me, almost perfect. In the movie it's relocated, stripped of the location's significace (Midori's story about the train journey is cut entirely), and marred by a tacked-on conclusion from the narrator.

So, if you love the book, should you go to to see it? The answer probably depends on how much you enjoy the cinema for the cinema's sake. If you love film, beautiful camerawork, artful landscapes, interesting ways of filming close conversations and/or want to see one of the best "light beams through trees" shots ever, then go: although the book is trampled on, you'll find much to like. Similarly, if you're studying the Japanese language then much of the film is easy to understand, not least because Watanabe spends almost half the time saying "もちろん" in answer to an assortment of questions from the female characters.

If you're primarily interested in the story, though, this adaptation is likely to leave you disappointed at best: the narrative mostly survives, but its nuance and significance are lost in the trees.

One of the best Japanese films I caught last year was Mamoru Hosoda's Summer Wars (or, if you prefer spelling English titles out in katakana for the hell of it, サマーウォーズ), which was shown at the NFT alongside Uchuu Show e Yokoso.

It's a visually stunning film built on the contrasts between the traditional (an old family mansion in rural Japan, beautifully animated in a traditional hand-drawn style) and the ultra-modern (the 3D virtual world of Oz, which is drawn as a gobsmacking whirl of light, sharp edges and vivid colour). I'd love to see it again and, brilliantly, it's finally coming out on DVD and Blu-ray in the UK next month.

But better than that: it's going to be available in a Blu-ray double-pack with Hosoda's previous film, The Girl who Leapt through Time (時をかける少女), which is one of the loveliest Japanese animated films I've ever seen – a completely charming science fiction piece that deals with slightly awkward teenagehood without ever descending into the many horrible cliches that plague so much anime these days. The Girl who Leapt through Time has not been previously available on Blu-ray in the UK.

Amazon is listing the two-movie pack for just over £15, which is just obscenely great value, and you can pre-order the set from Amazon here (Note: Amazon affiliate link – you pay the usual Amazon price, I get 10p or so off my next expensive book order).