09/01/09–09/06/09
A highlight:
The evening of my second full day in Tokyo, I headed to Shinjuku to meet Yushi, a friend of a friend. I didn’t really know what to expect. All I knew was that Yushi was taking me out on the town and that communication might be tricky, since neither of us spoke the other’s language at all well.
On the way there, I saw a sumo wrestler in the flesh. I was changing trains at Ueno Station, and I caught up to him on the stairs to the above-ground platform. From that angle, what I noticed were his massive heels spilling off his undersized flip-flops. I took in the rest of him on the platform, trying not to gawk. He was wearing a robe and sash, and, as if in counterpoint to his bulk, he was thumbing a slim-model iPod.
The train let me out in Shinjuku with over an hour to explore before meeting Yushi. Shinjuku is the quintessential neon wilderness. What makes it different from similar areas in cities I know better—say, Times Square, or Gran Vía in Madrid—is that in Shinjuku, you can’t turn off the main drag if you want to get out of the glare. You find yourself on another main drag, as busy and built up and brightly lit as the first.
After twenty minutes or so, I felt completely enervated, the way I get at the mall. I was also starting to worry about what the night had in store, because all of the bars looked like tourist traps, cheesy and expensive.
Then I heard the John Lennon portion of “I’ve Got a Feeling” (“Everybody had a hard year . . .”) emanating from a tower of oversized jigsaw puzzle pieces. The bar inside was playing only Beatles songs, perhaps in anticipation of the remasters on 09/09/09. I didn’t want to go in, but I bought an overpriced beer in a plastic cup at a nearby stand so that I could take a table and listen.
I nursed two beers and people-watched until it was time to go meet Yushi. My spirits lifted when he arrived. He looked like the Japanese version of the Dude from Big Lebowski, in a white undershirt, shorts, and flip-flops. I liked him immediately.
And then things got good fast. We turned a few corners, and we were in an alley where every doorway led into a tiny eatery, and every back door led to another alley where people went to relieve themselves. (There were facilities, but I gather there hadn’t been for most of the alley’s history.) It turns out you can get off the main drag in Shinjuku, if you know the way.
Yushi ordered us beer and food. I don’t remember exactly what we had, which will disappoint my sister, but it involved some absolutely succulent beef, assorted goodies in broth, and chicken skewers.
Then we moved on to Golden-gai, a village of parallel alleys and one or two hundred tiny bars. The bars have a lot in common with my favorite bars in Malasaña or Lavapiés in Madrid. They have the same ramshackle, bohemian vibe, with perhaps a touch more sophistication (the odd chandelier, some patrons in suits). But what really makes the bars special is their size. Because they can only squeeze in a half dozen people at a time, those people share a space as one group, and conversation comes naturally.
Well, where I was concerned, conversation was like a party game where you’re limited to the most basic vocabulary plus gestures. Fortunately, a couple people spoke pretty good English. I met Sam, a production manager who works mainly on ninja movies, and later I flirted a bit with an actress from an altogether different genre. And then I caught the last train back.
A second highlight followed from the first. The next morning, feeling hung over but determined to get out and see stuff—unlike some of the folks at the hostel, who seemed content just to hang around—I met Sam for a tour of Ueno, the neighborhood where he grew up. We strolled through the market and then surveyed it from a metallic perch with vending machines. Later, we climbed to the top of a seven-story toy store and worked our way down floor by floor. I picked out something for my friends at Tupperware Club in Madrid. Afterwards, I went back to the hostel for a much-needed nap.
I fell asleep watching Lost in Translation on my laptop in my capsule. This time I couldn’t get into it. The Tokyo of the film just didn’t match the Tokyo that I was experiencing. I wasn’t feeling any alienation or ennui. Things seemed different, sure, but not at all incomprehensible. It didn’t seem all that difficult to connect.
Of course, it helps if you’ve got one or two connections to get you started. For that, I have to thank my Japanese friends in San Francisco, who gave me great advice and really smoothed my transition into my first foreign country in three years. And thanks especially to Taka for the night out in Shinjuku.
