Posts Tagged ‘Japan’

Tuesday, August 21st, 2001:

Tuesday, August 21st, 2001

Apparently I left Tokyo just in time. At this moment a typhoon named Pabuk is hitting Japan’s western shore, hard enough to close Universal Studios Japan and put the televised high school baseball championships I’d been watching all week on hiatus. It’s been downgraded from typhoon status, but whatever is left of it will hit the capital tomorrow morning.

After yesterday’s entry I quickly packed up and checked out of the hotel. I had an hour before I was to meet up for lunch with Kim (see last Saturday), so I made a pilgrimage to the Tokyu Hands "creative life store". It’s also mentioned in this month’s WIRED (see Sunday), and with good reason: Had I an empty suitcase to fill with loot — well, I could have got a suitcase there, even the materials to make one myself! I settled for an inflatable travel pillow, which came in handy during my flight later on.

Kim took me to this sushi place in Shibuya I had passed by a couple of times, noting the line-up that went down the street. On this particular lunch hour it was much shorter, so after taking note of the rules posted outside — "please order at least seven dishes and refrain from lingering" — we went in. Someone had told me that Japanese sushi was far more expensive and not that much better than what you could get in Toronto; they were wrong on both counts. The dishes we snatched from the conveyor belt in front of us all had ingredients that must have been dredged up from the sea that morning. And what better way to cleanse your palette than another visit to Starbucks?

Kim told me of her plans to move to Hawaii, a good strategic point for someone to do business with both Japan and the states. As good as her mastery of the Japanese language is (compared to mine), she confided that no gaijin could ever be completely accepted into Japanese society.

Still, it was with sad eyes that I watched Tokyo slip away from me on the train to the airport. I’m not the type for one-night stands, but that’s how I’m thinking about the city on this, the morning after. She was playing hard to get at first and when all was said and done I never really did understand her, but it sure was a wild ride, and if given the chance I’d go back for seconds at a moments notice!

Monday, August 20th, 2001:

Monday, August 20th, 2001

Yesterday it became official — I love this place!

My first stop on the day’s itinerary was Asakusa, a huge street fair in front of the Sensoji Temple. Every conceivable consumable item was assembled in a promenade under a glass skylight, decorated by orange lanterns. I wisely held out for breakfast until I got here; right in front of the temple was a stand serving some kind of omelette or something; whatever it was, it had egg, bacon, some kind of starchy root filling, and was perfect.

A ferry down the Sumida river dropped me off near Shimbashi station, where I took an automated, elevated train to Odaiba — almost. I decided to get off early and cross the almost 4km bridge across Tokyo Bay on foot. Though there appeared to be a big storm chasing me, it never materialized.

If Tokyo is the city of the 21st century, then Odaiba, or Rainbow Town, is it’s suburb. Huge towers of condos with scenic views in every direction towered above me. Connected to all of them is Decks Tokyo Beach, two parallel malls, both meeting up with Sega Joypolis at the other end. After a snack and my first cup of coffee since I got here (it wasn’t very good — this is important for later) I took a stroll through Sega’s theme park. I’m happy that I ordered my Samba de Amigo maracas over the ‘Net; music games are still all the rage here.

Another, smaller bridge brought me to Palette Town and Mega Web. Palette Town is a rip-off of the mall in Caesar’s Palace, where the fake sky goes from dawn to dusk in about two hours. But without the hordes of American tourists in their tacky shorts it seemed that much classier. Mega Web is basically a year-round showroom for Toyota. They even had their latest electric car available for an automated spin around the complex. This attraction had just closed when I got there. I also wanted to visit the Fuji TV Tower, but by this time I had a bad case of sensory overload, and made my retreat to Shibuya.

This morning I set out early to witness the Tokyo subway at rush hour. My vantage point was a less-travelled platform, across the tracks from what I was promised would be the big show. Perhaps due to the Obon festival (kind of like Japanese Thanksgiving), there wasn’t nearly as much chaos as I expected, but I was impressed for the orderly manner in which passengers lined up in twos behind markers on the floor, where the doors to the arriving trains would open. It was just like the good old days of taking the York University Express bus from Wilson station!

Around 9AM I decided to leave Shinjuku station, by the correct train but in the wrong direction. At the next stop I switched over, and got my come-uppance. I wasn’t pried into an already-full car by subway guards, but I did squeeze into one on my own — barely. Apparently there are signs in subway cars asking patrons not to grab asses. I wouldn’t know, since I can’t read Japanese. But I can appreciate how it might be tempting…

The experience left me needing coffee. So ladies and gentlemen, it’s time to close your bets; I finally surrendered to Starbucks. :(

Sunday, August 19th, 2001:

Sunday, August 19th, 2001

Inspired by the Japanese cuisine I had sampled the night before, I decided yesterday to treat myself to a traditional Japanese breakfast in my hotel. I took the elevator up to the 25th floor, and was immediately ferried to a traditional western buffet of sad-looking pink sausages and hungover tourists. I explained my cravings to the waiter, who bowed an apology and took me to another, far better restaurant across the hall.

After that it was off to Shimokitazawa, to me about as Japanese as Tokyo gets, at least so far. The light rain that started as I left the subway station seemed perfectly appropriate for the series of narrow alleys broken up by train tracks. My favourite store there was Vili3 Vænga:d, a play on the words “Village Vanguard”… I think. In it I found all sorts of manga books and the usual assortment of imported American culture. The logo du jour for the Nipponese seems to be Motorola; maybe they think North American cell phones are rustic and cute?

I then headed back to Harajuku, camera in hand. I was told that Saturday afternoon was the time to see groundbreaking Japanese teen fashion. I saw another gaijin with the same digi-cam as mine and was going to point this out to her, until I deduced from her grave expression that she must be some kind of fashion spy for a big clothing label. Don’t laugh — it apparently happens all the time!

So what’s the new look that’s going to take the fashion world by storm? From what I saw, think Kelly McGillis in Witness. Now you can laugh…

I also got some gifts for my nieces at Kiddy Land. Now I’m not one to drop names, but I must digress to give some fairly big-ups to William Gibson for his article in the current issue of WIRED; Kiddy Land is quite famous, but I wouldn’t have even found the place otherwise!

Before heading back to Shibuya I tooled around Meijijingu Shrine for a spell. The wide tree-covered paths were pierced by the constant sound of crows. They sound different then the few I’ve heard at home, more deep and jungle-y. I’ve heard them greet the rising sun at 5AM every morning since I’ve been here, an instant reminder that I ain’t in Kansas any more.

In the evening I felt obliged to visit Roppongi, where all the gaijin go to party. The subway ride there had the same atmosphere you’d get in the Toronto underground on New Year’s Eve at around 8 or 9PM. When I took my place in front of the Almond Café to “watch the world go by”, I was greeted by lots of friendly, English-speaking people… All of them were passing out flyers for strip joints. Even the non-stripper-looking women had that desperate yet condescending air about them that I’ve observed many a Saturday night on Richmond Street. I turned my nose upward at the whole scene, and patted myself on the back with a return to Shibuya and my favourite fast food meal.

I’ve finally figured out why other caucasian folks seem so snobby wherever you pass them on the streets of Tokyo: When you’re alone you feel like a hero every time you figure out where you’re going on the subway, or make a transaction with a local merchant. Seeing other gaijin reminds you that you’re not Superman, nor some exotic creature that the locals pass by in awed silence. You’re just another damned tourist who doesn’t speak the language and has barely a clue as to how to get around.

Or maybe I’m just goofy-lookin’…