Cockroach Cojones

I’ve developed a new routine over here that I like to partake in about every two weeks. I’ve also got new friends to share the routine with. Frequently my dinner consists of raw fish (sashimi or Nigirizushi), soba noodles or beer (very nourishing). But every week to two weeks I need to break out of these habits. If I can get out of work early enough and get to the grocery store before the main rush, I like to pick up some bell peppers ($2.00 for one small), oversized green onions (these things are 2-3 feet long!), and some nice Kobe beef steaks. A quick seasoning of the steaks and a light sauté of the beef and vegetables in some good quality soy sauce and that is one easy and fantastic meal especially when topped off with a Sapporo bomber. I’m really going to miss Kobe beef when I get back to the U.S.

After the meal, I make my way down to my apartment’s outside patio area along the river and enjoy a Cuban cigar, usually a Montecristo #4 which is one of my favorites.
I’ve included a night shot of the outside patio area.

Not the best since it was taken with my blackberry.

The first time I enjoyed this routine and was sitting at one of the tables, I happened to glance down and thought I saw a lot of leaves moving in the wind. Except it wasn’t windy and there’s no leafy trees in the immediate area. When I used my blackberry camera flash on the ground, I realized it wasn’t leaves but cockroaches moving around.

These things are pretty robust. About 1-2 inches in length but they have wide bodies and really hard shells (discovered when I applied my foot to one of them). The amazing thing is that they don’t run when you come at them. If anything, they’ll come running at you. The one I crunched was really done in self defense. I swear that thing was eyeing me up like a Kobe beef steak. Now I’m sort of used to them. We’ve reached a mutual truce. When I come outside for a smoke, they leave me alone and when they swarm a small passing Japanese citizen, I leave them to their meal.

Mystery Meat

On Friday I was invited out to dinner with a few co-workers. The restaurant is called “Namahage” (Demons) and is located up in Roppongi. The restaurant is a bit touristy since the Namahage demons come out later in the evening and scare the diners into being good. Typically, if someone told me they were going to take me to a place like that in the U.S., I’d pass but my co-worker who set up the reservation did two things that piqued my interest. First, he said the price (5000 Yen/U.S. $50) included all you could drink of beer, sake, shōchū and umeshu for two to three hours. More on this later but one of my co-workers and I made sure we got our money’s worth. At one point in the dinner I had a glass of beer and three glasses of different shōchūs in front of me. The second thing my co-worker did was to show me the menu and some of the items we’d be having. One item, in particular, I’ve been searching out and was able to cross off my list of “bizarre foods” to try while in Japan.

The dinner started with a little cup of soup. As typical with many Japanese menu items, there’s always something familiar about the item but on the other hand, the individual components seem completely unfamiliar and unidentifiable. So although the soup had a familiar miso/soy sauce base, it also had an unfamiliar green leafy vegetable matter which my co-workers described as a plant that only grows in the mountain ranges in Japan and I thought had a peppery, spicy flavor (very nice). There was also a sticky, glutinous substance that seemed to float in the middle of the soup cup which if I understood my co-workers was a type of potato or yam that was grated. They then brought out a vegetable plate with ginger dip and a grilled meat and vegetable plate. Both nice but nothing particularly unusual. The next dish was thin slices of raw beef. These were dipped in a mustard sauce. Enjoyable but, once again, not what I would describe as unusual.

Finally, the mystery meat dish I had been waiting for arrived. First visual inspection is nothing unusual as you can see. Beefy looking in appearance but probably not as fresh as could be since the meat is also called “sakuraniku” or “cherry blossom meat” since it should be pink in color. This course was served as “basashi” or as sashimi (raw) slices. The white matter underneath the red slices I first thought was daikon radish slices but upon closer inspection realized I was getting an extra treat as they were also including slices of neck fat(“mmmm, neck fat”) with the sakuraniku. The accompanying sauce was soy sauce and you mixed in sliced green onions along with freshly grated ginger and radish.

Clearly this was a photo op and one of my co-workers, who was not partaking of the basashi, snapped a nice photo of the moment. I did a light dip in the soy sauce and then popped the meat and neck fat into my mouth. Initial impression was that these slices probably could be thinner. Texturally, chewing a thick piece of raw meat and a thicker piece of raw neck fat is not the most pleasant, but overall the taste was okay. It must have been because I tried it twice more. What was the mystery meat? It was horse. Unlike the U.S., many countries do not have a taboo against eating horse. Japan is one of those countries and “when in Rome”, why not give it a try?
After the horse sashimi, there was a pork and noodle dish which was tasty and a nice mango ice cream but both were anti-climatic to the raw horse. Check that food off the list.

Let’s switch from food to drink now.
Joining me for dinner Friday night was one of the Directors in the Marketing Department. In talking with one of my teammates, he explained that he was proud of his drinking capability and wanted to see if he could out drink me. Foolish man but I admire his tenacity. We started drinking beer and we each threw back about three glasses. He decided to change tactics and ordered shōchū (see first Izakaya visit for more about shōchū). The first glass was really crisp and clean. That was my favorite brand of the night. After I threw back the first glass, he then ordered two more types. Those were thrown back in rapid succession. I asked for a beer chaser and he joined me. About this time, we noticed a ruddy glow coming over our co-worker. He then ordered three more glasses, two new shōchūs and a repeat of the first one. I’d like to say I wasn’t feeling the effects but that would be a lie. But I certainly was in much better shape than my co-worker who at this point was well lubricated. I’m pretty sure we had maybe two more after that but I really lost count when the three were placed in front. When we left the restaurant, our other two dining partners excused themselves and went home but not my new drinking partner. We stumbled into an Italian restaurant and polished off two bottles of red wine together. It’s amazing how much better my Japanese was and his English was at this point. Beer, shōchū and red wine, not a good combo, and one I definitely felt in the morning. I got back to my apartment about midnight and was out cold within one minute of my head hitting the pillow. I have a feeling we’ll have a repeat performance in the future.

Japanese Orgy

Today I needed to work at the office in Roppongi which is further away from my apartment. Unfortunately I also left my apartment late which means I was going to get to experience what I call the “Japanese Orgy” also known as the 8:00 am trains from Meguro station to my destination of Roppongi-itchōme. To complicate the commute, it was also raining in the morning which meant more people would probably be riding the trains versus biking or walking to work. Ugghhh. My first train from Shinagawa to Meguro was crowded but not inconvenient. It almost never is. I knew the next connection was the troublespot.
When I first started taking the trains, there were many times I would wait for a second or third train just because they were so crowded. Or at least I thought they were crowded. I now realize there’s always room as long as you have a productive posterior. What does that mean? It’s a Japanese technique that I call “Back that Booty Up”. They use this technique to cram every last human being in Tokyo on your train.

Here’s how it works. You stand in line with what appears to be 10,000 other people. When the train arrives maybe one or two people will get off the train. That means that another 100 can get on. If you’re in the front of the line, you’ve got it made, walk forward onto the train and try to find a handhold. The tops of little old ladies’ heads don’t count. Their ankles are too weak and they’re sure to go flying when the train takes a corner at Mach 5. If you’re in the back of the line wait until the train looks like it’s about to explode due to the volume of people and that means there’s also room for you since it didn’t explode. Think positively! Turn around so that your butt is facing the people on the train and start to “Back that Booty Up”. You may need to shimmy it side to side a little bit to create a wedge into the masses. No bending at the waist. That’s bad form. It’s more of a backwards shuffle step and wiggle your butt side-to-side. Once you master this technique, there’s no train in Tokyo you can’t get on.

So as I made my way down the stairs to the platform, I could see that there was already a train in the process of boarding and it was mine. I was at the end of line but I am now a booty shuffle sensei. I wedged on and another 10 people followed me. Let the Japanese Orgy begin. The Japanese are masters of living inside their minds and not letting the close intimate contact of a train ride bother them. Each train car becomes one big mass of arms, legs and miscellaneous body parts all rubbing up against each other. On very rare occasions, I might have a lovely twenty-something woman wedged up against me but more often it’s a little old lady. I know I’m in trouble when they see me and a little smirk comes across their face and they start trying to wedge up against me getting their freak on. I’m usually yelling “zutsū ga shite imasu” (I have a headache!) but it never works. I always feel so cheap and used by the time I get off the train.

If you think I’m exaggerating about the trains, I’m really not for once.
If you don’t believe me, go to YouTube and enter “tokyo subway rush hour” into the search field and enjoy.
I’ve also found one that is more extreme but not uncommon:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eQdS5HY_O6k

"Hanging Out" in Japan

My apologies for the following blog.
Some of the mental images I will conjure up may scar some of you for life.

This past weekend was a three day weekend in Japan as Monday was a National Holiday known as “Umi no hi” or Marine Day which celebrates the blessings of the oceans. So rather than stay in Tokyo I decided to explore further afield and headed West across the country. Although I was looking forward to seeing the Japanese countryside and especially the Nihon Arupusu (Japanese Alps), the main purpose of the trip was to stay in several ryokans which is the Japanese equivalent of a bed & breakfast. I was also determined to find one that had an onsen (hot springs) as part of the ryokan. The onsen can be either outdoor or indoor but the ones I stayed at included indoor pools or hot tubs and frankly they’re not difficult to find although the quality can vary greatly. These are really fantastic places to stay but one requirement is that you must throw away the concept of American embarrassment towards nudity. So read on if you dare because you know where this is going.

Friday night I found a Ryokan tucked up into the hills of a city called Suwa which is in the geographic center of Japan. The city overlooks a small rectangular shaped lake that is about 2 miles by 2.5 miles in size. As typical in Japanese homes and lodging, you take off your shoes in the entrance area but the procedure takes a little getting used to and requires a bit of a balancing act. The idea is as follows: walk into the hotel or ryokan and take off one shoe on the stone or marble floor but don’t place your shoeless foot on the stone or marble floor. That would get your sock or foot dirty and would track dirt into the main lobby which is the same as wearing the shoes into the lobby. Big no-no. You place your shoeless foot on a little step next to the floor. While balancing on the step, take off your other shoe and then stand on the step with both feet. On the main lobby floor are hotel or ryokan provided slippers. You slide into the slippers from the step and then walk into the lobby and the Registration Desk. Complicated? You bet. Try remembering all that when you come stumbling in drunk from the local sakeya. Of course, for me I can never actually achieve the slipper part because they’re typically about a Men’s size 8 and I wear a size 13. As I walked towards the Registration Desk in my socks the first night the clerk began pointing excitedly at the slippers as I was violating the protocol. I picked one of these elfin flip flops up and held it against my foot showing him there was no way on Buddha’s green earth that toy was gonna fit on my boat feet. The clerk let out an astonished string of Japanese words (who knows what he said) which made both of us laugh. The clerk spoke enough English and escorted me to the room which was really nice. It was actually three rooms which is pretty unusual; one room for eating and watching TV, a bedroom area, and an in-room bathroom with just a toilet and sink, no shower or bathtub. The TV room and bedroom contained Tatami (rice straw) mats throughout the rooms. These are actually quite comfortable to walk on and I like the scent that they add to the rooms. The clerk then told me to wait while he went to retrieve my “yukata” or cotton kimono that I was supposed to wear while visiting the baths. I knew there was going to be a problem when he came back and said, “biggest one we have”. Why would there be a problem? Well, you generally don’t wear anything underneath the yukata. It’s perfectly acceptable to walk through the lobby in just your yukata and slippers or tabi socks as you go to the onsen. Of course, that assumes the yukata will actually cover your body. I slipped mine on over my clothes as a test and the clerk said, “that’s fine” and left. “That’s fine?!” I knew right away that it was not fine. As long as I didn’t breathe, bend, or move I was fine but otherwise, I was truly going to be “hanging out” in Japan. But don’t think for a minute that was going to stop me from visiting the onsen. I stripped off my clothes, slid on the yukata (left side over right as proper, right over left is how they dress the deceased), and tied it close with the obi sash. To say I “gingerly” made my way down to the onsen on the first floor would be an understatement.

I stood outside the door to the men’s onsen (women have separate bathing facilities) and the only thing that went through my head was Peter Graves’ Captain Oveur voice “Joey, have you ever been in a Turkish prison?” No guts, no glory. I slid open the door and stepped inside. The first room you enter is a changing room where you store your yukata, tabi socks and/or sandals. Standing there naked as the day I was born, I just had to laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation. What the hell was I doing on the other side of the world standing naked in a men’s bath house? Don’t answer that! This is Japan, don’t question, just go with it.

You then enter the bathing area. Prior to actually soaking in the onsen, you must first thoroughly soap, shampoo and rinse yourself. It’s considered bad manners to enter the onsen without first cleaning oneself thoroughly. I’ve borrowed a picture from the Wikipedia Onsen article to give you an idea of what a bathing area looks like.

The photo is pretty typical. You’re provided

a little stool to sit on while you clean yourself.

How my fat ass didn’t break the damn thing

I’ll never know but I looked completely silly washing myself while sitting on that little bench.

After making sure all the soap was rinsed away, you can now step into the onsen area itself. The first night’s ryokan’s onsen was really nice. Their facilities were top notch. They had a large rectangular hot tub that was probably 6 x 10 feet and they had a large circular tub that was about 7 feet in diameter. Both tubs sat in an enclosed area outside decorated with various pines and plants which added to the overall atmosphere. I opted for the circular tub and joined two Japanese men. They asked me a question to which I replied in Japanese “Sorry, can’t understand, I don’t speak Japanese, only English” response. That seemed to satisfy them and we just sat there for a few minutes soaking. You really can’t sit long in the onsen area itself. The water is incredibly hot. They left and I sat for a few more minutes floating in the onsen alone with my own thoughts. A light rain was hitting the onsen’s roof top. I could hear the traffic in the distance on the road that circled the lake. What a great f’ing night.

What’s the lesson to be learned?
I really can’t answer that for anyone. You need to answer your own questions.
I’m just trying to give everyone a perspective on life in Japan and hopefully do it in a humorous and thoughtful way.
One thing I do know is that this assignment has been many things to me.
Frustrating and lonely…..absolutely.
But also incredibly rewarding and I’m glad I was given the chance to experience it.
I do know that each of us are given various opportunities in life. Some small and some big.

Just don’t be afraid to take advantage of those opportunities.
I’m not saying you’ll become a better person for doing so, only that your life will be more enriched as a result.

The Date's Been Set

Well, after much negotiation and coordination between co-workers, the date has been set. On July 31st, I and my colleagues will be visiting a fugu (pufferfish) restaurant. For those not familiar with fugu, here’s an excerpt from Wikipedia:

Fugu contains lethal amounts of the poison tetrodotoxin in the organs, especially the liver and ovaries, and also the skin. The poison, a sodium channel blocker, paralyzes the muscles while the victim stays fully conscious, and eventually dies from asphyxiation. Currently, there is no known antidote, and the standard medical approach is to try to support the respiratory and circulatory system until the poison wears off.Wait, say what? Yes, that’s right; the Japanese apparently have a fondness for going to restaurants where if the chef is having an off night, you die. I was discussing fugu with my co-workers at lunch yesterday (see side story below) and they’re amused that I find it disconcerting. One of my co-workers tried to assuage my concerns by saying that when I fly, I’m putting my life in the pilot’s hands. True, but I responded by saying that is a choice made due to necessity. If I need to get somewhere in a reasonable amount of time, flying is an acceptable risk, but just because I need food does not logically mean I should seek out a source that can kill me. They just laughed. This is going to be interesting.

Lunch Side Story: My co-workers took me yesterday to the “crab” restaurant. Guess what their specialty is? There was a huge tank as soon as you walked in filled with enormous crabs of all varieties. So when I asked the kimono-clad waitress what she would recommend for lunch, she said “unagi” which is freshwater eel?! Having been in this country for about 3 months now, I’m sort of immune to these contradictions at this point. They’re more amusing than annoying. So what did I order, the unagi, of course. Why, well there’s a general belief that you should eat eel on one of the hottest days of the summer, usually in July, and yesterday was a scorcher. High heat and high humidity. If you do this, the eel, supposedly, will provide strength and vitality for the rest of the year.

Politically Incorrect Tokyo Observations

Here are some more general observations on Tokyo.
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The Japanese love small dogs.
Now before your mind heads down the stereotypical Asian edible path, that’s not what I meant. For them it’s purely a matter of bestiality. Kidding, just kidding.
As I walk around Tokyo, I see a lot of people walking or carrying small dogs. I mean really, really small dogs. Some I would describe as “Chihuahuas” but they just seem so much smaller than the U.S. breed if that’s possible. You would swear some of them are just overgrown ants with cubic zirconia studded collars. At first I thought this was just a fact of city living, that you can’t have a large dog in the city but then I thought about NYC and realize that many New Yorkers have larger dogs so that doesn’t seem like a reasonable explanation. To make matters worse, many of the Japanese dress their dogs up in clothes. I’m not talking of a t-shirt with some pithy saying. I’m talking about little suits or sweaters. I know I’m not the most fashionable man but it’s really sad when I look at a dog and say, “Wow, that’s a really nice suit, I wonder who is tailor is?”
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Speaking of small, I am shocked on a daily basis at how small some of the Japanese men are. I see way more petite men than women. And it’s just not stature, their builds are so slight. I know this isn’t politically correct but I just can’t help thinking, “I wonder how far I could throw one of these guys?” It’s not that I want to physically hurt them. I’d prefer they land in something soft. But anytime I see one of these guys I just have this overwhelming desire to grab them by the back of their collar and belt, heave ho at 45 degrees and see what distance I can achieve. I’d also yell “Up, Up and Away” while I’m launching them hoping it would make them feel better about their temporary heavenly flight.
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I’ve yet to see what I would define as an openly gay Japanese man………nor am I searching them out in case you’re wondering. I’m not talking about the flamboyant behavior one might see at a Gay Pride Parade but typically if you’re walking around where there is a large population, you’re bound to see someone and your first thought is, “I bet they’re gay”. Not here. Nor do I really care about an individual’s sexual preference but I just find it curious as to why there’s not more of an “openness” about it? Japanese cultural restrictions maybe? To further confuse the situation, many straight Japanese men will wear clothes that might be considered feminine by Americans. As an example, the shoes called “Crocs” are pretty popular over here and many Japanese men will wear pink Crocs. That might raise an eyebrow in the U.S. but over here it’s pretty normal. You also see a lot of men with little plastic figurines clipped to their cell phones. White and pink “Hello Kitty” figurines are fairly popular. I saw a Hello Kitty figurine on a co-worker’s phone who I know is straight. I also know he’s also obtained something like 3rd degree karate black belt status and given that I like my teeth the way they are (in my mouth), these thoughts are never going to be verbalized.

Last chance for Bidet Contest

Just wanted to remind everyone that all entries for the Bidet Contest must be submitted by midnight (U.S.) this Wed, July 15th.
I will post the video and announce the winner after that.
Take a guess, what have you got to lose.

Wilson!!!

Queue The Vapors’ chorus, "I’m turning Japanese, I think I'm turning Japanese, I really think so."
This blog may not make sense for anyone, as you’ll see, but I had to post.
The first month I was here was pure culture shock. Tokyo and the contradictions of Japanese culture and society really can mess with an American's mind. When discussing these contradictions with various Westerners who have lived here for years, they all generally gave me the same advice. “True Japanese experiences are not something you experience by thinking; it’s best experienced if you just let it come to you and wash over you.” Now if you're saying to yourself, “Craig, that sounds like a lot of hokey Zen Buddhism, Mr. Miyagi mumbo-jumbo”, I don't blame you. There's still a rebellious logical part of my mind screaming the same thing.
But there are times, like today, where I’ve given in to the flow and have experienced some unusual things.

Here’s a quick little incident that happened to me this morning as an example.
Did you ever see the Tom Hanks movie “Castaway” where he’s marooned on the island?
I just experienced something similar to a key scene in that movie but also very much one of those Japanese Shinto good/bad, happy/sad experiences.

I needed to visit both offices today. I left my Shinagawa office at 10:30 today to head up to the train station to catch the train to the Roppongi office.
As I crossed over the bridge by the Shinagawa office, a butterfly landed on my right shoulder but it didn’t just stop and then fly away. It stayed there as I continued walking.
I didn’t try to brush it off. I just continued walking figuring it would eventually fly away but it didn’t. Every time I stopped at an intersection waiting for the light to change, people were smiling and looking at the butterfly and commenting to me. Of course, I have no idea what they were saying. Perhaps they thought I was some kind of moth whispering sensei.
So block after block I’m walking down the sidewalk with my new friend on my shoulder, the sun was shining. It was a beautiful moment.
But then I reached a spot along one of the sidewalks where there really are no plants or flowers, just a gray dark warehouse on the left and heavy traffic on the right.
It was at that moment that it flew into the street. I couldn’t see whether it made it through the traffic but I felt like Castaway’s Tom Hanks when he’s floating on the raft as “Wilson” the volleyball floats away from him, lost forever. That’s all that went through my head at that moment, Tom Hanks screaming “Wilson!!!” Then I was sad. Why? No idea. It was just a butterfly.

I must be losing it…..or turning Japanese.

Sunday Freak Show

MALE readers of this blog may want to skip this one as they may find it too horrifying.

There are events that have occurred throughout history whereby man’s courage was challenged in the face of insurmountable odds: the Spartan King Leonidas at the Battle of Thermopylae, Lord Cardigan’s Charge of the Light Brigade in the Crimean War and finally the Texians at the Battle of the Alamo. In all of these instances, I am sure each of these warriors in facing their potentially pending doom thought to themselves, “What the F#%@ am I doing here?!” On Sunday, I was asking myself the same question when I faced my personal Alamo in the form of Takeshita-dōri (street) in Harajuku.

Over the past few weekends, I have explored Northern and Central Tokyo but I had not yet visited Western Tokyo. This was my objective last weekend. On Saturday I spent an enjoyable day visiting the Meiji (Shinto) Shrine, a samurai sword museum and parts of southern Shinjuku. I’ll blog about that trip separately. I saved my visit to Harajuku, though, for Sunday. Harajuku is an area in Western Tokyo. This Wikipedia Harajuku article does an excellent job describing the place. Basically, it’s what we would call a “Freak Show” and Sunday is Prime Time. The Wikipedia article describes one fashion style that I’ve seen throughout Tokyo but especially in Harajuku called “Gothic Lolita”. I haven’t blogged about this fashion style before mainly because I’ve struggled to find a term to accurately describe it. But this week one of co-workers nailed it. He called it “Cute Punk”. Japanese girls take the typically dark colors and clothes of the 1980’s punk era but then they soften the overall appearance often by dyeing their hair a soft pink or other pastel color. There’s no element of danger of anarchy to their appearance. It’s just funny looking. The only other “Freak Show” place I’ve been to that compares is Venice Beach in California.

Just walking around Harajuku would have been entertaining enough but I also decided to test my nerves and patience. This test was via walking Takeshita-dōri which is a pedestrian only street (alley is more like it) that is primarily filled with fashion boutiques. There are also music stores, restaurants and God knows what other venues were down the side alleys but it’s primarily for the fashion that draws the crowds which is why it was so illogical to find me there. My fashion sense is blue jeans, t-shirt and my Columbia hiking shoes. Most people are there to shop and my wife and family can attest that I hate shopping. Loathe it. If I was given the choice of being forced to go shopping on Black Friday or having my left testicle bitten off by a rabid chipmunk my response would be “Just the left?”
As I stood at the top of Takeshita-dōri about to make the plunge into a crowd of crazed Japanese shoppers, I had to fight back the bile that was rising in my throat. I started down the street wedged into the crowd which was a mix of curious tourists like myself and teens and twenty-somethings all looking for the latest fashion bargains. Katie, my 13 year old daughter, could easily have spent her entire day there shopping. Takeshita-dōri is a little over 200 yards long but it takes a long time to walk as the crowds are shoulder-to-shoulder. It also started to rain on my way back up the street and this further slowed down the pace. I’ve included this small photo album to give everyone an idea of how packed it was.

Takeshita-dori

Overall an interesting experience but one I’m not likely to repeat anytime soon.