Ringing In The New Year In Tokyo...Take 3

I mentioned in my last post that this is my third Christmas/New Year holiday season in Japan. This year, I decided to start New Year's Eve night differently than the past two years. Instead of starting out in the bars and clubs of Roppongi and then heading to a temple the next day, we decided to do it in reverse.

Our first stop was Zojoji Temple near Shiba Park and Tokyo Tower. I experimented with night time photography using my newly acquired film camera, but mainly, we were there to see the release of thousands of balloons with wish cards attached at the stroke of midnight.





We popped a bottle of champagne, toasted to the New Year and admired the balloons floating toward to the full moon that was out. Plans were made to meet up with some other friends in Roppongi. We trekked towards the main drag and met with our friends in front of Don Quijote .  "Where should we go?" someone asked. "Why don't we go to Wall Street?" I suggested. It was the first bar I could think of that wouldn't involve the fuss of cover charges and unnecessarily long lines, two things I was not in the mood to deal with on a crazy night such as New Year's.

We went to Wall Street Bar 2,  and I saw their most visible bouncer standing at the door. If you've ever walked along Gaien Higashi Dori at night, you know who I'm talking about. Probably the only black man working the strip who's not African: American,  light-skinned, LARGE and LOUD. You can't miss him.

Anyway, we got to the door, and I saw a guy sitting in the foyer with a money box and calculator.  Since this establishment doesn't usually collect a cover charge at the door (and their website says, big and bold, FREE ENTRANCE), I simply asked if there was a cover charge for the night. The bouncer responded saying yes, there was a charge of 3000 yen which included two drinks. I thought that was pretty steep for this place. Afterall, it's no Feria. Before I had a chance to say anything myself, my boyfriend asked me if I wanted to leave and I nodded and went back out the  door. Then, Lt. Asshole charged out behind us screaming a barrage of insults, which included some racially offensive statements like, "Don't be a fucking Jew! Don't be a Whoopi Goldberg! [huh?] Don't be a black Jew!" and also referring to my boyfriend as a n-----. At first, I was just stunned, because I've been to this bar and the older branch more times than I can recall and have spent quite a bit of money there, a fact that I got in his face to remind him of before telling him to fuck off and leaving the area.

I, fuming, and the others, astounded, headed away from the strip and walked towards Roppongi Hills. We went to Heartland Bar, a long-time favourite of many Roppongi night life patrons - they have Heartland beer for sale there for 500 yen a bottle, the bartenders are usually pretty nice and there's always some idiot there making a spectacle of himself in tune with the pounding (usually techno or house) music. Last night's specimen was a guy who apparently thought that the new trend in dancing as bending at a 90 degree angle, grasping the edge of the bar while tossing his head from side to side.

After a couple beers we went across the street to Saizeriya to grab some late night cheap eats. Getting seated in the family restaurant proved to be quite a task, since the one area that would have been sufficient to seat the seven of us was occupied by one man (with scarily rotten-looking teeth) who appeared to be singing to himself in his sleep. We eventually agreed to split our group and after we were seated, the guy went to the restroom, came out and essentially stood by our table, with nothing but a sheet of glass separating us, where he continued his slumberous performance for the duration of our meal.

Next stop for most of the crew - the strain station. At this point, we had just left the restaurant and it was about 4a.m. I wasn't ready to go home yet. I wanted to stay out and dance. We saw our friends off and headed back out into the streets in search of a place to hang out. A British tout handed us a flyer for a fairly new bar near Tokyo Midtown called Heroes. It was empty, save for about seven other patrons, the manager and the bartender. We sat at the bar and chatted about hats with a patron who was sporting  an amazing pinstripe fedora. I also managed to practice my Japanese a little; the bartender who is of Japanese and Korean parentage was very talkative and freely chatted with us (mostly in Japanese and a little in English) about her life in Japan since she moved here from Korea a few years ago.

That's what I love about this town. Now matter how seedy the nightlife can get sometimes, you're always guaranteed to meet someone with a story. We said goodbye to the bartender and the manager (who's also very friendly) and headed home. When we got to our station, the last bit of New Year's Eve moonlight was already long behind us and we squinted in 2010's first daylight as we made our way home.

Odds and Eggs

One thing I've been wondering since moving to Japan: Why is it that my refrigerator's egg holder has room for fourteen eggs when cartons of eggs hold up to ten?

Silly question, I know. I just thought I'd ask.

I haven't updated this blog in a while, so here's a hodgepodge of updates:

1. I went to China early last month. It was a great trip. Lots of great, inexpensive food was consumed and many great, interesting sights were seen. Of course, I went to the Great Wall:

And Tiananmen Square:

And many other places. What still left an impression on me though, was the fact that Chinese people would stop and take pictures of me. Really, I'd be standing at an intersection waiting to cross the street and some strange person would just come up, point a camera in my face, click and walk away. This happened several times every day we were there. My boyfriend thought it was funny. I found the whole experience weird and disconcerting. Annoying too. Why can't I just enjoy my vacation like a normal person instead of making some one's Beijing photo album more interesting by being the odd foreigner? That's one thing about living in Asia that I'm really getting sick of: being the odd foreigner.

2. I went to the One Love Festival in Tokyo a few weeks ago and was once again amazed by the number of Jamaicans living here. Each time I go to the festival though, I ponder the role of our embassy in Tokyo. The one and only time I ever went there, I have to admit, I felt so disappointed. The only (Japanese) staff member at the desk was bewildered at the fact that I was interested in knowing where the embassy is, or where I can find Jamaican-owned/related businesses in Japan.

I didn't come here as a JET or through any ALT programme that was recruiting in Jamaica. I came here working for a company that was recruiting in the U.S., and that company had a dearth of Caribbean nationals working for them in the Tokyo area. Needless to say, despite having met many interesting people from all around the world, and having formed many interesting and meaningful friendships, during my first year here I still felt very much alone. I guess I just wish that our embassy would look like it functioned as more than a branch of the Jamaica Tourist Board.

Anyway, the festival was fun. I met some great people, ate some good food (yes, I'm always eating these days) and jammed to some good music.

3. I haven't been writing as much as I'd like. I've seen so much horrible poetry being posted everywhere on the Internet from Blogger to Facebook and as horrified as I am by the terrible writing, I begrudge these writers their courage. I also see the mountain of praise that terrible writing attracts sometimes and I am scared to death that things I've written and received tons of accolades for in the past were actually glorious crap.

In order to remedy all of that, I decided to help a friend start a writing circle. We'll see how that goes. If there are any writers in the Tokyo area reading this, drop me a line if you're interested in joining.

Okay, back to listening to this week's This American Life.

A tale of the phallus in two cities

The other day, while I was talking to my mother over the phone, she told me about a radio talk show host's discussion about the statues at Emancipation Park. Again.

Ever since the statues were unveiled, the [then PNP] government and the National Housing Trust (the group responsible for the project) have been the subject of some vicious criticism. One website even called the statues "pornographic". And why?

Personally, I think it's just because of the penis.

I don't think I'm reaching with that statement. Before I left Jamaica in August 2002, all anybody talked about was how big the penis is - how grotesque this naked male form is (especially next door to the posh Liguanea Club and across the street from the Hilton Kingston, the Jamaica Pegasus and the Courtleigh Hotel). Never mind the naked female form facing it, the penis is what we should all be concerned about for the sake of our children or some such nonsense.

I had long gotten over the nonsensical discussion about Emancipation Park, but when my mother reminded me about it, she did so after commenting on a phallic experience I recently had here in Japan. She marvelled at how Japanese people were not culturally bogged down by archaic, imperialist-imposed morals when it came to the human form. 

Anyway, a few weeks ago, I went to the Kanamara Matsuri, held at a shrine dedicated to a steel penis.

Yes, a steel penis. 

Actually, this steel penis:

So, the story about this steel penis goes like this (basically):

A young woman had a demon inhabiting her vagina. Each time she got married, however, the demon would bite off the penis of the groom. One day, a priest built a steel penis which tricked the demon into biting it, thereby breaking off its teeth.

I found this festival hilarious/amusing/shocking/interesting. I cannot really comment on it further than saying how refreshing it was to be in a place where people didn't have these stringent (and hypocritical) hang-ups when it comes to the human form. What I will do for the remainder of this post, though, is let the pictures speak for themselves (with a few captions).

The usual Japanese festival fare: stalls selling various food items including, but not limited to, yakitori, yakisoba and crepes (and, of course, beer).

One of the mikoshi featuring a black penis.

Another mikoshi featuring a pink penis.

Penis candy for sale at the festival.

Carvings made out of daikon (Japanese radish).

What else can I say? It was an interesting day. Also, if I may add, Jamaican people need to chill regarding the statues at Emancipation Park. Seriously.

P.S. - By the way, for all the readers out there, check out Sacred Games by Vikram Chandra when you have the chance.