I slept two hours. I figure the day is shot. But how many days will I spend in Tokyo in my lifetime? And, on this Sunday, the sun shines pure early fall glory. I Skype with Annabella (Wonderlust: “Eat. Love. Pray.”), surprised I can form a sentence, and then head to Kijiochi.
As I hit the Tokyo Metro, my thoughts drift in a tired haze. They lack completeness, like twins separated at birth. I picture a guy at a Twix factory who puts only one bar in every wrapper and scratches his head, “…I just know something was different yesterday…” My thoughts equate to either the worker or the solo Twix bar in this scenario.
Especially today, simple things amuse me, like the Contac cold medicine commercial I see on the train. I can’t make it out entirely but the gist is clear. A Samurai errs crucially and provides an opening for his adversary, sneezing during a duel. He could have avoided this had he the good sense to simply take Contac beforehand. Contac didn’t exist during the era the commercial reveals, but why be nitpicky? Suspend disbelief and we can all enjoy samurai-themed marketing. The main thing to recognize is that Contac is ultimately about honor. A cartoon pill with arms, legs, eyes and lots of little pellets inside delivers this message.
Speaking of the Metro, New York laughs at Tokyo’s willingness to catch some shut-eye. But cheer up Tokyo! The fact that your Metro closes for roughly 5 hours each night places your inhabitants in an interesting position. To oversimplify the options, catch the midnight train or the 5 am train. (Taxis can be prohibitively expensive.) When you eat late dinner with 15 Spaniards, the choice is clear. The early train is kid’s play like Trix cereal. Or even better, a less delicious version of Trix cereal that doesn’t leave your milk all rainbow colored. (I mean to convey midnight is not an option.)
I meet up with Anna (Wonderlust: “Sweet and Sour Grapes”) to check out the Tokyo nightlife with her crew of Tokyo ex-pat insiders. Among Anna’s friends, which represent the elite of Spain, Daniel is the most interesting and hilarious. He left the sticky Ibiza-area as a high school junior. “Parties were from Friday night until Monday afternoon. Straight. Every weekend.” His dad endorsed the move as he started to hear stories from cop-friends. Daniel, I roughly calculate, has spent 10 of the last 13 years abroad in Miami, Melbourne, Venezuela, Philippines, Indonesia and, now, Japan.
With my prodding, he reveals details about wide ranging adventures, his export/import business which allows him to stay in Japan and the peace he found as a former dive master. Some of the places he travelled in Indonesia were so off the beaten track that he needed a government escort and introduction so that local militias would cease-fire. Government officials flashed two lanterns to let local forces know when Daniel traveled by land. I know, I would have thought one if by land too.
We discuss women. “It is a twinkle in the eyes that I am drawn to. The eyes have a poetry that I just know…I need a connection.” Some dreamy combination of Javier Bardem and Walt Whitman? He tells me with a smile how he likes to have a list of 4 or 5 Japanese women that wait for his call. “Japanese women aren’t the easiest to get, but they are easiest to tie up in your bed once you do get them.” So maybe some even dreamier combination of Javier Bardem, Walt Whitman and Larry Flynt.
When the list deteriorates, he heads to notorious Rappongi where Japanese women go to meet gaijin, westerners. “Maybe they studied or worked abroad…and they just can’t go back to Japanese men.” In sum, once you go west, you never go east. I am not sure how that rule reconciles with too far west is east. Maybe approaching the international date line is playing with fire. But every once in a while, it’s fun to throw caution to the wind. Toe that line. Is Samoa west or east? Who knows–are Samoans attractive anyway?
I ask him what the story is at Bar Muse. “Well downstairs they play techno, up here they play hip-hop, there is Karaoke in that back corner, a lounge over there, and pool and ping pong in another downstairs area. And, oh yea, it’s the easiest place in Tokyo to get laid.” Daniel and friends prospect for gold. There is no shortage of talent. Tonight, I have Annabella on my mind and am content wreaking my brand of havoc on the dance floor. After a night of (my new nightlife go-to) diet coke fueled wildness, I roll into my hostel bed at 6 am.
Kijiochi is perfect for my childlike state of mind. Live bluegrass and honkytonk music drift pleasantly, if somewhat surprisingly, through the beautiful fall air. Vendors of the Inokashira Park art fair are happily oblivious that somebody else sells the same postcard, necklace, quartz trinket, or caricature offering nearby. Only the Didjeridoo guy enjoys a monopoly.
I attend a Japanese baseball game after. Some gaijin player homers in the fifth inning, cueing my departure. Superfan #99 sitting next to me, a one man international cheerleading competition, starts to grate. He knows the entire diverse range of cheers. And he has a loudness inferiority complex. He challenges himself to ever-increasing heights the way all the greats do. If he reaches the pinnacle for which he aims, I just hope his efforts aren’t undone by some sordid tale in his closet.
Besides the one man fan grandstand band, the beautiful fall day has given way to a chilly evening. I am underequipped without a sweater or any Contac. So I follow the white rabbit into the wonderland of rainbow colored milk and the early train.
PS-This guy was the highlight of the three acts I saw at Kijiochi.
PPS-Listen to The National if you haven’t heard them already. Favorite new band so far this trip. Read some Marukami if you haven’t already. Favorite new author so far this trip.
