My third Japan Journal, sent on June 12, 1995

Japan Journal #3

Now, I know you're all thinking, "Japan Journal"? What’s that? I borrowed the "Chapters" idea from a friend who went to Japan, and he’s claiming copyright (and I can't blame him). So, in a gesture to maintain the harmony, my (mis)adventures in this distant land have been renamed. 

I know that there are people out there who I have not included in my journal list. Please feel free to spread my e-mail address to people who may be wanting to contact me but don't know how to reach me. Once again, my address is: elwood@syrinx.dq.isl.ntt.jp

Irrelevant Observations 

Not surprisingly, a very common thing I see on trains are walkmans. I don't see the walkmans themselves, as those are tucked away in an inside pocket or bag, but I do see lots of ear-phones and the cords running from the ears. And there’s something that the walkmans have here that I haven’t seen in NA that I saw and thought-- "Hey, that's a really good idea".

How many times have you set up your walkman, just right so it sits in your pocket, the earphones reach your ears, and you're listening, and suddenly the tape stops? Or, you want to rewind a song? This has happened to me a few times. Solution: Put the controls (play, rewind, etc.) on the earphone cord. So you just reach to the right place on the wire, hit the button, and you don’t have to dig the walkman out of your jacket/pocket/purse. 

Another meaningless sidebar: there's a lot of animation here. And every animated character has BIG eyes, so they all look more Occidental than Oriental. (Of course, they all bow to each other and speak in Japanese.)

Myth Busters

Contrary to what I'd been told, I am not a giant here. I really don’t think that there's a significant size difference among young (35 years old or less) people. I'm taller than most but not by much, and not as tall as others...

Service: I was led to expect that service everywhere is so incredible that if you indicated you wished to purchase an item, it would be ready, delivered, set up in your living room, and the money automatically deducted from your account before you could blink twice. (What, me exaggerate?) While I haven't had poor service anywhere, neither have I had exceptional service. It's been un uniformly good.

Food, Glorious Food

Eggs were served on Friday morning at breakfast. This has happened before, but what deserves comment is the fact that these eggs were served raw. People just cracked them open and poured the egg over their white rice. I looked at the egg, at my rice, back at the egg, and at my rice... and I just couldn't bring myself to do it. Maybe next time.

People who have seen me eat know that I take my time when having a meal. I eat slowly, and I chew my food. (Some theories take the stand that I’m too busy talking at mealtimes to actually eat, but I don’t believe them.) Not so here. I find I’m racing through meals at record pace. I’m also getting zits again. Argh. I figure this means that either a) I'm going through puberty again, or b) I'm experiencing a teensy bit of stress/anxiety/culture shock.

Some Things Don’t Change

When I left Canada, Die Hard 3 had just come out and there was major promotion for Batman 3, due out Real Soon Now. Then I arrive in Japan, and on my way to work each morning I see advertisements for the new movies Die Hard 3 and Batman 3...

Painting the Town Red

Saturday night was the Co-op Japan Kangekai (welcome party). About 25 of us (15 or so gaijin, the rest English-speaking Japanese) met for dinner in Roppongi. We went to an Indian buffet restaurant (I’m getting used to Japanese prices– 1450 yen for a buffet was cheap, and I didn't convert it to Canadian funds). It was okay– yellow rice and four kinds of curry (curry chicken, curry mutton, vegetable curry, and something else). It got a bit monotonous after a while.

There are two Co-op Japan students in the Tokyo/Yokohama area that have been here for eight months or so. They organized the get-together, and were a source of much wisdom. (Apparently there was a way to call overseas very affordably, even though it may fracture a law or two here and there (just like jaywalking is also against the law). However, recently (in the last month or so) NTT has really clamped down on this by reprogramming the phones not to accept a certain kind of telephone card. So I can’t call cheap, after all.) It's good to talk to people who were in your shoes not so long ago, and can tell you the stuff you need to know... and they're full to party with.

After the meal, we had to decide which club to go to. Roppongi is a fairly small area composed of club after bar after club after bar. And each club has one (or more) employees working the street. What is working the street, you ask? It is handing out "discounts" and "specials” to those lucky people who walk by, and basically doing everything possible to get folks into *your* club. And nothing attracts them more than a crowd of 20+ individuals looking for a place to party for the night.

It was insane. Jessica, who organized the event, had at one point five people simultaneously talking to her. Take the stereotype of an aggressive, mega-hype salesman, and that is a somewhat scaled-down version of the schtick here. It’s unbelievable. Everyone offers the best prices, the best girls (or best guys, depending on the audience), the best music, the best deals, all over here here here here come right this way you lucky people no don’t talk to *him* over here yes for all you we can cut a special deal I'll talk to the doorman you're a special person come to my club we get you in no cover cheap drinks over here wait there's a cover but 7 free drinks don’t listen to him they water down their alcohol oh no sir not at all I'll open a bottle right in front of you over here follow me!

Everyone's a professional scam artist. Very smooth approach, different styles of delivery. (Oh, and few Japanese people were working the streets. Everyone spoke English, although the coupons they forced into your hands were in Japanese. The names of the clubs were English. Obviously, this entire neighbourhood is designed to capture the foreign market for nightspots.)

And they are all very aggressive.

Nobody seemed willing to make a decision, so I started battering with a few of them. (Heck, if they’re all there, use 'em to our advantage.) If one guy made an offer, I'd repeat it to the guy next to him. Could he beat that? Sure. But then the original guy revised his offer... 

And I had four of ’em bidding down. We finally went to a place that had a cover of 1000 yen, but which included 5 free drinks. (Turns out the place does water down their alcohol, as I’d been warned, but I was given drinks that were 90% ”alcohol", so our group did okay. )

The music was mostly dance, drum beat from hell and bass that you feel in your chest more than you hear with your ears. I was shocked when I heard Sting's "Englishman in New York" played there. (Granted, it was speeded up somewhat and there was an overdub of drums that nearly drowned out everything else.) But we all danced, had a few drinks, and everyone seemed to have a pretty good time. I left in time to catch the last train back to my dorm.

Let me tell you, it feels WEIRD leaving a club al 11:00 pm to go home...

Japan's Alternative Scene

Yesterday (Sunday) I spent the day at Yoyogi Park. one of the larger parks in Tokyo. It was quite pleasant. I just entered the park, started walking around, and followed whatever caught my eye. I encountered a large shrine in the middle of the park. There were boards on which people hung their wishes. (You could purchase a piece of wood on which to write your wish nearby.) The temple itself was quite ornate. People stood, threw coins into a large container, clapped their hands together, and bowed. Many people repeated this several times. I watched a service take place, which involved a lot of ritualized bowing and kneeling and more bowing. I didn’t understand a thing. But it was interesting to watch.

Just outside the park is a major street that is closed off to traffic every Sunday. Bands of every description (and I mean that) set up their equipment along the road and start playing.

Never in my life did I think that I would see a group of people that would make the patrons of Sanctuary (also known as the Vampire Sex Club, a bar in Toronto) look mainstream. But then, never before had I been to Harajuku.

It’s difficult to explain. On the two blocks to the street itself are an astonishing array of different people. There's the dancer flailing about; I can't decide if she's supposed to be having an epileptic fit or portraying a puppet whose master is having an epileptic fit. But weird to look at, any way you choose to. And there's the collection of girls with hair of just about every colour among them. One is wearing a black cape, has white makeup on, heavy on the mascara, and a black leather facemask with many chains, zippers, and metal holes in it. She looks like the only thing she's missing is a whip (I'm not sure whether she'd be on the giving or receiving end, though). Another one has fishnet stockings up one leg, nothing on the other, thong-type underwear, and a bra. That's it. (With dyed hair and mega makeup, of course.) And there's at least  50 or so people, each of which merit a description... unbelievable.

And there’s the bands. From greasers (we're talking bulletproof hair) right out of the '50s to heavy metal bands to breakdancers to a Beatles cover band to R&B. Dozens of bands, each with their own setup. They’re placed right across the street and beside each other. Most are pretty poor, but there were a few that I sat and listened to which were quite good. Many bands had a following... I guess some people come by his place every Sunday. In order to listen to your band you had to stand right next to the speakers or else everyone else’s loudspeakers would seep in between songs. The place is wild.

And that’s about it. Next weekend should be interesting-- I'm going to an International Beer Festival on Saturday and Tokyo Disneyland on Sunday (which, I'm told, is unbelievably crowded).

Until next time,

Leslie