Part 2
A little backtracking. Our trip actually began in Incheon, South Korea, where the English school and her apartment were, where we boarded a bus to Seoul. In two and a half hours we boarded a KTX train, Korea's bullet express. That brought us three hours later to the eastern port city of
Busan, a garrish stopover with a glitzy surface but apparent favorite of wayward Russian sailors and their pale, blond whores.
We wandered down a side-street looking for a bar, maybe a cafe to kill some time. Sheer curiosity led us into "Texas Bar", but upon entering found the place deserted, its proprietor sleeping loudly in a chair behind the bar. The next place we tried was a more happening, though not outwardly seedy looking place. An old Korean woman eyed us harshly as we enter to see a room full of scantily clad white women, a single burly, suit wearing white man seated with one of them at a tiny bar, everyone looks up to regard us incredulously, but there's no way they look more surprised than us. We hurried to a brightly lit, innocent looking cafe/pastry shop a few blocks down. The next morning we got up early enough for breakfast at the hotel. I had sushi, a salad of cabbage and sweet Korean mayonnaise, a hard-boiled egg and, since it would be a while before I had it again, a generous pile of kimchi. God I love that stuff.
Hakata Port, Fukuoka City
The lightening fast ferry boats
BEETLE are really something to behold. I never found out how many trips per day they offer between Korea and Japan, but these flying whales can make the skip in only 3 hours. As soon as we're in Japan it's obvious. Everything outdoors is clean, mannerly, and in order. Aesthetics are everything, as I would see again and again. Across the street from the bus terminal, a local politician running for election led a display of traditional dance and music with a group of performers from Osaka in a pavilion.
pic
pic
pic
Fukuoka is a long way from Tokyo. For some reason we couldn't then ascertain, the shinkansen rates were inflated, so in the interest of saving money we opted for the innocuous-sounding "night bus".
14 hours. Now, that's a long fucking time to be on a bus in the first place, but add to that the onset of motion sickness, attempting to get a full night's sleep while in the slightly reclined position, and nothing to watch but slow-paced medical dramas in Japanese, and you've got problems. I picked up a can of strangely bitter-tasting soda with an Evangelion movie tie-in, Rei smiling in a scene from the film adorning it, at one of the rest stops.
We got off the bus early in the morning and made the short trip to the Sakura House office in Shinjuku.
Sakura House is a company who works with apartment managers around Tokyo to provide clean, reasonably-priced accommodation for foreigners. We were helped by the awesome Kenji, who guided us through the lease-signing process with friendliness and free tea. Soon we were ready to go and hailed a cab for Futakotamagawa.
Shibuya
Ah, trusty Shibuya. The frequent first stop for transfers on our many travels into Tokyo proper. The subway system is, as it is in Korea, efficient and extremely clean. It isn't, sadly, as cheap to ride by rail in Japan. Though, again, only slightly in excess of what I would consider reasonably priced, it would add up on you without warning.
Shibuya crossing and the iconic statue of
Hachiko are just out the Hachiko Gate, the main exit from Shibuya station. There are an insane number of people there at pretty much all times of day. Crowds flowing, as they do, like tensely controlled rivers of humanity. Unlike in Korea, Japanese people don't push or shove, you have to learn to inhabit your small bubble of space and mind all of your extremities while doing just about anything; from walking to shopping to eating. It works because of the people, they make it work. It's an orderly, massively perplexing flow of intent.
pic
pic
Shibuya has lots to explore and spend money on. Most of the clothes I bought came from one or another discrete underground shops with Japanese-made wares off the web-like streets that radiate out from the station. We ate shabu-shabu in a restaurant featured in a scene in Lost in Translation, discovered our favorite of the cheap ramen shops and a fantastic Japan-only eatery called Pepper Lunch that actually serves fast food steak, bought books of original haiku from a homeless man who talked with surprising wisdom, as well as fluent English, about the blood and sacrifice, the consuming passion necessary to be a good writer.
We met a local fortune teller, a local celebrity really, named Papa Amin. Known to the Japanese as
Shibuya no Papa, he approached us on the street wearing brightly colored western-wear as we sat studying a map, wiggled his huge mustache and introduced himself with an invitation to tea. His small but ornate booth is located on the B2 floor of the 109 building. We talked for a good while. I think he was happy to be speaking English; besides fluent Japanese (he's lived there over 30 years), he speaks Arabic, Dutch, and a few others. He has pictures of him with everyone from Michael Biehn to Prime Minister Koizumi to Nancy Reagan. The tea and roast chestnuts were delicious. He invited us to a party at his house, but we would be out of the Tokyo area on that day, so we had to decline. He told us in Afghanistan people wipe their ass with mountain soil. No joke.
Roppongi
Jon sounded less-than-enthused when I inquired, "so what's the deal with Roppongi, anyway?" He told me in unglorified, plain English. And he was right. We saw more idiot foreigners, more baka gaijin, here than anywhere else in Tokyo. And only halfway rightly so, it does double-duty as the tourist drinking district, but also the newly fashionable upscale shopping district in Roppongi Hills. We ate so-so burgers in a local place called Havana Cafe, overpaid at the Rolls Royce of karaoke booth buildings, saw lots of places like
this, got a little drunk and walked around, cursing all the loud, obnoxious gaijin ruining the place for us and making us look bad. We would only be back once more, but for a much different reason.
To Be Continued...
Ghost
ssjinprincess
Linear Mode
