After sales dropped right off in Japan following the OS 3.0 debacle, I was nervous whether we would ever be able to recover there. That #3 spot we held for so long was highly cherished.

Then something happened a couple of days ago. Our sales in Japan jumped over 1000% and we are now at #2. Curious (and very happy) I delved into the internet for a bit to find out what had caused this.

It was a review by a Japanese site called ipodtouchlab. All the literature about marketing iPhone apps recommends getting your app reviewed. There are plenty of outfits who do these (MacRumours, Ars Technica, iLounge, iPhone App Reviews.net, 148 Apps, AppVee, The iPhone Blog etc), but with over 50,000 apps in iTunes, it’s difficult getting their attention.

We’ve been reviewed in just a few (App Craver, Geek.com, iPhone in Canada, AppReview.com, The App Podcast and Just Another iPhone Blog), and some are understandably better than others. Just Another iPhone Blog for instance, is good. The reviewers look at the app in detail, question it and give an honest opinion. They also make use of video and use big, clear screen shots.

Just Another iPhone Blog.com - quality reviews

App Review.com, by comparison, are lazy. They simply drag all the text from the app’s iTunes page and give it a Good, Better or Best rating. There’s no other input at all. That they purport to have reviewed around 50% of all apps is meaningless when they do so little.

AppReview.com - lazy

It looks like iPod Touch Lab are one of the good guys. The review is decent in length, uses both video and screenshots, and most importantly of all, has a critical mass of readers who can act on what they have learnt in the review (I have a suspicion that a lot of these reviewers have a fairly low reader base).

iPod Touch Lab blog - screenshot of recent review

So, good news about Japan – thanks iPhoneTouchLab (@touch_lab on Twitter). It gives me a valid reason to revisit all those other review sites and press them again for a review.

Yesterday I went to a small supermarket to get a few things for dinner. There was a girl near the entrance serving soup with bread. Ah, the Global Financial Crisis has come to the Western Suburbs, I thought, before realising that this was no soup kitchen but rather a sample offering in hope of a sale or two.

The soup actually didn’t look that enticing. It reminded me of oft-used bath water, with the addition of some indiscernible stringy bits. Its name meant nothing to me, and the smell was unrecognisable too. But I was cold, and the soup was hot, and the girl was young and slim.

I took the cup from her while she explained, awkwardly, what other varieties I could buy. I smelt, not the soup, but an opportunity.

‘Where are you from?’ I asked.

‘I am from Russia.’

‘Drastveetsia’ I said, pretending to sip the soup. ‘Kak vas zavoot?’ Her eyes widened.

‘Menya zavoot Yulia. Your accent is very good. You have been to Russia, yes?’

Indeed it is. Indeed I had. Not to where Yulia was from though, near the Ural mountains. It was miserable there she told me; the place was decayed and the inhabitants sour. She had only been in Australia for 4 months, and before arriving, was unable to speak any English. My hand slipped to my iPhone, and while she talked, I quickly set Lingopal to Russian. Within a few seconds I had it: Вы прекрасно говорите по-английски!

‘Oh, you think?! I find difficult … when people talk so fast …’

Someone coughed behind me. I turned to see an older woman, tension drawn on her face. Through pinched lips she hissed: ‘If you’ve quite finished some of us would like to get some soup.’ With that she shuffled forward, edging me sideways in the process (she was a large woman).

‘For goodness sake,’ she spat at Yulia. ‘Are you here to do work or just chat?’

Poor Yulia flushed and hurried with the ladle. I said ‘Nice to meet you’ in Russian (the hag’s eyes darted suspiciously between the two of us) and turned again to my iPhone. Finding the phrase I wanted, in the Insults section, I enlarged the text and flashed it at Yulia.

Her shoulders relaxed a little, and the smile returned to her face. ‘Da’ she nodded. ‘Da’.

It’s been approved, and is now available in iTunes.

It’s been a curly couple of weeks. I’ve been getting testy emails from customers, both old and new, who had Lingopal crash on them when they upgraded to OS 3.0. Other customers let us know in the review section of iTunes. It’s pretty distressing to see 1 star ratings when we have only ever received 4 or 5 stars.

In retrospect we could have submitted our upgrade to Apple sooner, but with 50,000 apps, many of them also submitting upgrades, it was always going to be a wait.

So now we have to win back the good faith of the clients we’ve upset. Hopefully, once they’ve downloaded the upgrade and see that Lingopal works just as well as it did before, all will be forgiven.

Apple is annoying me.

By now everyone who has an iPhone, and plenty of others who don’t, know two things:

1) The new operating system for iPhones, OS 3.0 has been released

2) The new version of the iPhone has also been released (it runs OS 3.0).

We tested Lingopal on a beta version of OS 3.0 and it didn’t work. So we were as snappy as we could be in getting the code fixed so it would work. Then we submitted the upgrade to Apple in hope of timely approval …

And we’re still waiting.

Meanwhile, all of our customers who have upgraded to OS 3.0, have started Lingopal only to have it crash. But when they look on iTunes for an upgrade, it ain’t there. And prospective customers either (a) don’t read the warning blurb in iTunes and download anyway, and are thrilled to have a crashing app, or (b) read the warning blurb and move on. Either way, it all means pissed-off customers and lost sales.

Not surprisingly, Apple haven’t responded to any of my requests for a status on approval of the app upgrade.

I’ve just returned from Sydney, where I met with the guys from MoGeneration and Pollenizer. They share an office in Surrey Hills, and while distinct businesses, the synergies they share make cohabitation(!) a sensible arrangement. It also makes it convenient for visitors like me.

Both businesses seem to have work piled up, which is fantastic given the economic climate. MoGeneration are in hiring mode, and I understand Pollenizer took on a new graphics guy recently. It’s a sign that there are some pretty confident start-ups out there in the market. If you’re an adept iPhone developer then drop Keith at MoGeneration a line. Be advised, he’ll ask for a link to an app you’ve done and it better be good!

Pierre de Pollenizer showing his guns

Simon and Keith from MoGeneration

We’ll be making some changes to Lingopal in the next few weeks. There’ll be some new content, new languages and more options in how you want Lingopal to work on your iPhone or Touch. There are some other exciting things in the pipeline too … but that’s for another post.

Most people have heard the figure – over 1 billion applications downloaded from Apple’s iTunes stores worldwide. Sure, a lot of those apps are free, but plenty have a price tag, so that means lots of money is getting made, right?

Sometimes. The Trism game made US$250,000 in two months, which is outstanding by anyone’s calculations. It’s figures like that which have drawn developers to the iPhone much like cries of ‘gold’ did to prospectors in centuries past. One of the effects of this rush is that there are nearly 40,000 apps available for download now. How do you get your voice heard amongst all that competition?

This article from New Zealand’s Stuff website (via the Sydney Morning Herald) illustrates some of the problems and workarounds in getting an app noticed. The developer in question mentions that getting the app endorsed by an Apple exec is a great marketing method. It just so happens that one of Lingopal’s developers from MoGeneration is in San Francisco right now for the big Apple convention…

One thing the article doesn’t mention is reviews. Reviews tend to get seen by those ‘early adopters’ – keen iPhone users who (one hopes) help start the word-of-mouth effect. There are a number of iPhone app reviewers out there, and also plenty of general tech writers with an Apple interest. Of course, these guys are getting harrassed to review thousands of apps, and there are only so many hours in the day.

Unlike a lot of the other reviewers, The App Podcast does video reviews, so you can see exactly how the app works (or doesn’t).

Here’s The App Podcast’s review of Lingopal. He seems to like it.

Language is a funny old thing. While we understand that there is Spanish and French and German etc, the variations of those spoken languages can change markedly depending on a number of variables.

Often these are to do with geography: Spanish from Spain sounds different to Spanish from Argentina. Zooming in on the map the same thing applies – a Cornishman sounds very different to a Mancunian, and neither could be said to speak the Queen’s English.

And so it is with the language itself, not just the sound of it. The words employed, the nuances, the slang. The change can be seen in much smaller cross-sections of society: from suburb to suburb, street to street.

And this brings me, rather tenuously, to the picturesque delight that is Clare Werbeloff.

Clare is now an internet sensation, due in no small part to her colourful description of a recent shooting in Kings Cross, Sydney.

Phrases such as ‘I didn’t for shit, eh’ and ‘fully sick boys’ may give pause for thought, but you will certainly get the drift.

I just wish the reporter had asked to see her new tattoo.

[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_0L2VaTWs9s[/youtube]

We’ve all seen bad tourists. They tend to be loud, obnoxious and disrespectful of locals and their customs. They can come from anywhere, though certain nationalities seem to have worse reputations than others.

In Pattaya I saw quite a lot of these types around. I don’t know how much of a bad tourist this guy was, but he was bad taste.

On meeting my friend’s new bride the first time I asked her if she had taught him any Thai. She said he was lazy and had only learnt one phrase, but I should learn it too.

Poh me chai farang keeno!

I have found it invaluable in both getting a laugh from locals and also disassociating myself from those dodgy tourists mentioned above. It’s translation?

I’m not Western birdshit!

I recently attended a wedding in Thailand, held in the bride’s village near the Laos border. It was an event the whole village (pop. 150) was involved in.

There were monks …

… home-made guitars …

… food …

… more food …

… dancing girls …

… and the town drunk.

The hospitality of the people was incredible and humbling. They had little, but gave everything.

The following evening they hosted another dinner for those visitors who remained. Once again, everything was wonderful. Those are oxen walking by the table.

By this stage I had become reasonably proficient in greeting people (hands together in a bow, sar-wah-dee karp), explaining that I couldn’t speak Thai, saying that I was pleased to meet them and the like.

At the end of this second dinner about a dozen of the villagers lined up to say goodbye. None could speak any English. In fact in the whole village there was only the bride who could speak it, and she has only been learning for a year.

As I edged along the line I quickly brought out my iPhone and searched for a couple of phrases I thought appropriate. I hadn’t time to rehearse them so I chose to just play them.

ah-ha alay-ee mar kop kun

As one they laughed on hearing my praise of the dinner, and replied that it was their pleasure.

par-teh kon kun soey mark

Their smiles grew broader and they nodded in glee as I told them that their country was beautiful. Some little children tip-toed and strained in wonderment at the iPhone.

kon lie par-teh kon kun nar lark mark

Their reaction was one of delight. They all edged forward, laughing and wanting to shake my hand. My friends, now getting into a van, turned on hearing the commotion. A young guy in front of me struggled to say something, while the new bride at my side translated.

‘Oh, you wery popular in my village Richaard. They want you come again.’

As we drove slowly off, chickens and dogs scurrying out of harm’s way, a friend asked me what I had said.
‘That the people from their country are wonderful’, I replied. And they are.

Any talk of visiting Thailand inevitably raises the subject of Ladyboys, or, as they are called in Thailand, Kathoey. They are those peculiar creatures who deign to be women, but only go halfway. So for appearances sake they are women, until such time as you realise that south of the hipline they are not. By which stage it is probably too late.

That said, some of them are incredibly striking. They strut, shimmy, pose, prowl and preen better than most women. Understandably they tend to be slightly longer of limb, so when turning on their (very) high heels, mane arcing and ivories flashing, they look like catwalk models. Prosperous of breast and curved of buttock (how do they do that?) they actually seem to be über-women.

A closer inspection (not too close!) sows the first seeds of doubt. Is the jaw a little too square, the voice a little too croaky? A quick check for an Adam’s apple is sensible, but that’s not a certain thing. Apparently there is reduction surgery available for that.

In one bar we visited there were some quality hijinks going on, involving soap suds, nudity and whips. A poor chap was getting flailed in a bath by half a dozen go-go dancers; the rest of us sheltered our glasses from the flying suds. I began to take some covert photos from waist level (taking them wasn’t allowed) and managed a few shots before I was caught. Two waitresses yelped around me, grabbing at my camera and calling for the management. Bouncers edged forward.

The manager arrived quickly. Slender and elegant, she stretched forward her painted hand and demanded I hand over my camera. I protested that the shots were so blurred as to be unrecognisable, but she remained unmoved. ‘Delete!’ she ordered, her sable hair shaking with anger. Giggling stupidly I deleted the photos one by one, while she got more and more cross. It wasn’t so much the alcohol making me laugh, nor the antics carrying on immediately behind. It was the fact the manager had a beard.