Japanese New Year’s Eve

Posted on 02/01/2015 by Luke

New Year’s Eve in Japan differs significantly from the celebrations and lively scenes I’m accustomed to in England. We kick off the evening at our favourite izakaya, where the owner, in his broken English, warmly greets us with, “Good morning this evening.” The atmosphere is festive, with people enjoying drinks and exchanging smiles all around. Among the options on the extensive Japanese menu is ‘Smile, ¥10, limited to ten per day.’ Fortunately, the stocks are plentiful, so I toss the owner a ten-yen coin in exchange for his wonderfully elaborate smile.

The television set above the bar is broadcasting the 65th annual Kohaku Uta Gassen.

Kohaku is a live talent battle between two teams of musical acts that have had a successful year in Japan. The white team consists of all male artists, while the red team is composed of all female artists. This exclusive, invitation-only event happens to be the most-watched show on NHK every year. Audience members cast their votes, and the only prize is pride for the winning team.

I was thoroughly enjoying a band of male vocalists singing, “La lalalala lalalala,” when out of nowhere, the owner of the izakaya switches channels to watch the latest episode of the popular pirate anime, One Piece. Food is then served to each of us in tiny bowls—traditional Japanese soba noodles, known as toshikoshi soba.

Soba noodles are notably thin and long, with the belief that their length symbolises a long life. It is also said that consuming these noodles helps ward off any lingering ghosts as the New Year arrives. The seasoning for the meal is served from a salt shaker crafted from a light bulb. While I’m unsure if this is part of the traditional way to eat Japanese soba, I find it quite appealing.

One Piece comes to an end, and the owner channel-hops, briefly settling on boxing before switching back to Kohaku. On the television, Idina Menzel graces the stage, singing ‘Let It Go.’ It’s quite rare for a non-native Japanese artist to be invited to perform at the event, but given the immense success of the movie Frozen in Japan, her appearance comes as no surprise. It’s at this moment that I’m hit with my first Tokyo Disneyland flashback.

We continue to enjoy our drinks, with people singing along to ‘Let It Go.’ Suddenly, the owner begins handing out gifts in small white envelopes.

Next year marks the Chinese zodiac year of the Ram, or ‘sheep’ as my Japanese friend corrects me. I suppose interpretations vary across countries. The pendant I receive, if I’m completely honest, looks more like a goat. Regardless, I appreciate the gesture and the unexpected gift.

As midnight rapidly approaches, we finish our drinks and take a wander over to Senso-ji for Joyanokane. At the stroke of midnight, a priest will ring the bell 108 times, symbolising the 108 sins of Buddhism. Unfortunately for me, sarcasm is one of those sins. By merely staying and listening to the tolls of the bell, your body and mind are believed to be cleansed—an excellent way to start the year, if only we could get close enough to hear them.

It’s incredibly crowded here. People are queueing up to make their first prayer of the New Year. Others are here to shop at the many little food stores lining the route to the temple, while some are here to count down to the New Year. Our purpose is simpler—we are here to listen to the bells. Eventually, as the clock approaches midnight, we manage to get close enough to the temple, arriving at about two minutes to midnight.

The first bell chimes, and we cheer. Suddenly, as if a switch has been flicked, the plastic sheeting over the market stalls starts to shake. A ferocious wind appears out of nowhere, and the temperature drops to the lowest it has been since I arrived in Japan. It’s as if the gods are angry or trying to sleep, with the millions of people here disturbing their slumber.

It will probably take over two hours to queue and make our first prayer of the year, and the cold is too much to bear. We decide to postpone this ritual until tomorrow. Instead, we opt to get our fortunes for ¥100 each. Surprisingly, none of our group receives a bad fortune. I, personally, receive a ‘Good Fortune’ that says, ‘The linen robe turns into a green one.’ I’m not entirely sure what this means, but I presume it implies that I will turn into a kappa.

After receiving our fortunes, we go our separate ways. As I cycle home, the wind almost blows me off my bike.

Abandoned by Disney

Posted on 01/01/2015 by Luke

The sun shines brightly as Christine and I make our way to Tokyo Disneyland, a 115-acre theme park located in Urayasu, Chiba Prefecture. It’s said to be a place where dreams come true, according to a somewhat poorly written but curiously popular guidebook. This guidebook suggests that the optimal time to visit Tokyo Disneyland is during the winter months, particularly toward the end of December. Today happens to fall within that timeframe, so off we go.

We change trains from the Yamanote Line at Tokyo Station to the hugely unpopular JR Keiyo Line. The Keiyo Line requires us to walk for twenty minutes through a busy train station and is highly inconvenient. Finally, after almost an hour on three trains, we arrive at the conveniently named Tokyo Disneyland Station. On the train, the windows and handles are shaped like Mickey Mouse.

Outside Tokyo Disneyland, what would usually cost ¥100 now costs over twice that. An early sign of the commercialism to come.

Full of overpriced green tea and a pocket full of change, we queue to enter the park at around 9 a.m. Eventually, after twenty minutes in the queue, we pay ¥6400 each and enter.

We head for Critter Country to use our Fast Track ticket for Splash Mountain. Despite being here so early in the morning, our Fast Track ticket won’t allow us to ride this ‘Hair-raising flume adventure’ until quarter to six. A mere nine-hour wait. We can’t use another Fast Track ticket for two hours, so we decide to grab some breakfast.

It turns out that the only food on offer at Tokyo Disneyland is junk food and sugar. I buy a ¥310 strawberry sundae – the smallest ice cream in the world. In the bottom of the cup are Corn Flakes; something I’ve never associated with ice cream before, and something that I will never eat with ice cream again.

After breakfast, we decide to go on a ride. We head over to Fantasyland to queue for “It’s a Small World Presented by Nippon Express Co., Ltd.” I write the name of the ride with capitalisation, but in the park, they don’t bother; and this annoys me. We queue for forty minutes, and with me not knowing Disney too well, I have no idea what to expect.

In the queue, I try to discuss the Pinocchio paradox, but Christine, who had previously worked in Disneyland Florida, tells me to, “Stop talking! Stop ruining Disney.”

Finally, we enter the ride and sit in a boat. Instructions in the boat say, “The boat may stop suddenly, so please sit well back.” I don’t really have a choice thanks to the length of my legs. The ride describes itself as the “Happiest cruise that ever sailed,” so presumably, it is well good.

The overall experience is terrible; a riverboat cruise of rooms depicting dancing characters from various countries. In each room, the characters are singing the same song, Jingle Bells. At the end of the ride, we have to join a queue of boats to leave. If I am completely honest, after being on my feet for most of the morning, it is just nice to have a sit down.

Leaving the ride, a politically correct ‘happy holidays’ sign is also written in lower case, just to further add to my disappointment. Christine seems happy though; she was singing along during the ride. Afterwards, she waves at the other people queueing, and they wave back.

We accidentally stroll into a gift shop and find a crystal castle that costs an arbitrary ¥5,142,860.

After “It’s a Small World,” we discover that it’s a small park. It actually takes us just ten minutes to walk the entire length of Tokyo Disneyland, despite having to push through the ever-increasing crowds of people.

We check out Thunder Mountain, but it seems there is a 300-minute queue for the ride. We wander around at a loss as more people appear from nowhere, the park now becoming extremely busy. Our second ‘attraction’ comes almost three hours since we arrived and is quite possibly the least popular attraction in Tokyo Disneyland, and perhaps the world.

We wander into a tipi with almost impeccable timing and take a seat on some padded benches around a stage.

The ‘ride’ is the oddly named “The Enchanted Tiki Room: Stitch Presents, Aloha E Komo Mai!” Presented by Mizuho Securities Co., Ltd. The attraction describes itself as a fun-filled tropical music show.

Just like the photograph I took of the show before being told off for taking photographs, the whole thing was a disappointment. A few birds talking and singing in Japanese, a few flowers singing too. Just nothing that even offered the least bit of entertainment or anything that could be described as fun-filled or remotely tropical.

Outside, the queues have grown astronomically.

With two hours now elapsed since we first used our Fast Track tickets, we head to some of the other participating rides. We discover that all of the Fast Track tickets have now been issued, so only one Fast Track ride for us today. We spend some time queueing for toilets, queueing for vending machines, queueing for queues.

One thing we find scattered around the park are popcorn stands; eleven in total. They sell flavors such as caramel, soy sauce and butter, honey, and curry. Each stand appears to have an hour-long queue. Lucky for me, my friend is also from England, so we do what English people do best and moan about everything, together.

We head back to Adventureland to queue for the Western River Railroad Presented by TOMY Company, Ltd. “Three hours,” the woman tells us, remarking on the queue times. We brave it anyway. I came all this way, and certainly don’t wish to pass up on an opportunity to climb aboard a real steam train for a trip around the wilderness.

Once forever passes and time no longer exists, we eventually get on the ride. It is one of those annoying rides that hates tall people. The train passes through caverns and low-hanging beams of wood. Despite being in the safe, happy environment of Tokyo Disneyland, I can’t help but get the feeling I will hit my head. I end up ducking under every tunnel and beam.

After one minute of satisfaction and three hours in a queue, we leave the ride, bumping into Donald Duck. Close to one hundred people are waiting to take their photograph with what is basically a man in a duck costume. Ridiculous.

One of my biggest gripes with Tokyo Disneyland is the lack of shops selling vegetarian food, healthy options, and alcohol. Despite wandering to almost every restaurant, it is practically all junk. Eventually, we settle for food at Tomorrowland Terrace Presented by Coca-Cola (Japan) Company, Ltd.

I order French fries, corn soup, and a salad, an overpriced ¥730. The salad has little jellied carrots in the shape of Mickey Mouse. I squeeze the packet of soy dressing, aiming for my salad, but the packet bursts and squirts my coat with sauce. Embarrassed and soaked, I go and wipe away my tears, and the dressing, before returning to my salad. Hidden beneath the Mickey Mouse carrots is bacon.

I can’t eat the salad due to dietary I hate Disney. Instead, I eat my lukewarm French fries with ketchup, dropping one on my leg to further add to my misery. The cup of French fries mocks me with the catchphrase, “Where dreams come true.” At least they remembered to capitalise; but at this moment, it does very little to appease my trauma. Meanwhile, Christine dines on her ¥1010 burger, fries, and a drink; she eats it smugly and without dropping a single crumb. I finish my soup and want to scream.

We head back outside for the Happiness Is Here Parade Presented by NTT DOCOMO, Inc.

“This is the happiest parade ever! Enjoy the fun and excitement of this parade with all of your favourite Disney characters!” Right now, I am unhappy. I am not enjoying myself, but I try to remain optimistic. We try to get a decent viewing spot on the parade route, but keep getting told off by the unfriendly staff for sitting on benches or loitering. Eventually, we find a place to watch our favourite characters as they dance along the route, riding a series of increasingly elaborate floats.

All of the usual suspects are here. Snow White, Lilo and Stitch, Toy Story, a massive elephant, two giant six-armed caterpillars, Alice, a bright orange Tigger, Mickey Mouse with his stupid face that I want to punch, and my favourite float, Disney’s NTT DOCOMO, Inc. Presumably from the new Disney movie about mobile communication services.

After the parade, nothing can get any more horrible. Perhaps this is the turning point of the day. We still have a few hours before we can queue jump Splash Mountain, so we contemplate killing ourselves, but instead, we decide to go on a ride to kill time.

We head back to Adventureland for the Pirates of the Caribbean ride Presented by Kirin Brewery. The jolly band of marauding Caribbean buccaneers is joined by Captain Jack Sparrow, or so I am told. We queue for ninety minutes before, for a second time today, sit on a riverboat ride. Pirates of the Caribbean describes itself as, “A thrilling adventure cruise through dark mysterious caverns where dead men tell no tales.”

Our boat is called Patience, which I like. Irony being the least American thing we’ve found today. The ride passes by a restaurant, and Christine and I miss the first section of the cruise, as we are too busy peering in to see if anyone in the restaurant is drinking alcohol. Just soft drinks with straws.

When we started queueing for the ride, it was daylight. As we exit, night has fallen, and the castle in the middle of the park is illuminated.

We pass people asleep on benches, including a guy sleeping with his whole face covered by a three-eyed Alien mask from Toy Story. In the toilets, two unhappy ‘cast members’ are directing people to cubicles and urinals. It is almost quarter to six, and it is nearly time to finally use our Fast Track tickets.

As we walk toward Critter Country, four fireworks are let off above the castle. Perhaps the worst firework display I have ever seen. A projection mapping show is taking place, so presumably, the budget has been spent on that instead.

We arrive at Splash Mountain (not sponsored). As we flash our Fast Track tickets, we get to walk along, passing people who are enduring the three-hour queue; the most satisfying feeling of the whole day. The ride claims to have, “The wettest drop ever!” It doesn’t. “No splash, Captain.” This is the third ride on a boat today and is the best one I’ve experienced.

The excitement on my face sums up the day nicely.

In just under two hours time, the final parade of the day is taking place. With two-hour queues for every ride, we risk it and head to Fantasyland for the Haunted Mansion (not sponsored). “Ride through an eerie Gothic mansion with 999 ghostly inhabitants.” While we wait for 110 minutes to ride the Haunted House, I teach Christine some basic Japanese, until she feels the need to repeat the same one phrase over and over. Not irritating in the slightest.

The Haunted Mansion turns out to be a Nightmare Before Christmas ride. It starts with two rooms where our group has to stand around. We listen to speeches from Jack Skellington. It turns out Jack Skellington is fluent in Japanese. Next, we take a seat in a chair shaped like a chocolate egg. This isn’t a roller coaster though, more of a tour through the animatronic world of the Nightmare Before Christmas.

After the ride, we head out into the crowded carnival that is the Tokyo Disneyland Electrical Parade, Dreamlights Presented by Nihon Unisys, Ltd. “Don’t miss this spectacular night-time parade when the Park comes alive with millions of dazzling lights to the magical tunes of Disney music.”

Sadly, we only catch the last three floats of the parade, including the one for Nihon Unisys, Ltd.

After the parade, the park begins to empty out. We decide to sit down for a time and dine on more sugar in the form of a strawberry-filled Mickey Mouse-shaped cake, which tastes frankly weird. As we head toward the exit, we find that the queues for the popcorn stands have completely vanished. I order a box of regular-sized ¥360 Orange Marmalade popcorn. The serving size is actually quite generous for something that costs about ¥10 to make.

We explore one of the many gift shops, stocked with needless rubbish for a high price. Despite being almost closing time, the gift shops are packed full of people, and Frozen merchandise has almost sold out. Not that I care. We eventually leave empty-handed. The noise of fourteen hours in Tokyo Disneyland, the constant flashing of lights, cartoon characters, and the overall brightness leaves me with only a headache.

As we endure the one-hour train ride back to Asakusa, I drift into dark Disney nightmares. If all of this was a bad dream, this day, and I woke up again this morning having never been to Tokyo Disneyland, I would certainly keep it that way.

At home, I feel tired and disjointed. I am angry and disappointed. I am certainly disgusted. Disney is a commercial success that exploits children and adults alike. Heavy sponsorship, overpriced snacks, no consideration for the queueing that people have to endure, a lack of drink vendors, no quality food, and a complete lack of alcohol. These things all add to the horror that is a trip to Tokyo Disneyland.

Dome Alone

Posted on 26/11/2014 by Luke

Over the last few days, the temperature has been getting increasingly colder. Winter is finally upon us. Recently, as I have wandered around in just a short-sleeved shirt, I have started to lose count of the number of times I have been asked, “Aren’t you cold?” The weather today is 18°C, and Tokyo is just a rainstorm away from resembling an English summer. I head out into the freezing cold in search of something to do.

My first stop is an event in Asakusa known as Neko Matsuri, translating to mean ‘Cat Festival.’ Unfortunately, a more accurate translation might be ‘Cat Disappointment.’ The festival consists of two small market stalls selling cat postcards and biscuits with cat faces on them—nothing else, not even a cat mascot to photograph. Disappointed, I leave the festival and start walking in the direction of Ueno Park to see some ninjas.

Today is the Iga-Ueno Ninja Festival. Market stalls here sell overpriced food, and on stage, a band comprises eight young women dancing and looking exhausted. The only ninjas present are those trying to trick small children into winning rubbish prizes at fairground-style attractions. Once again, not a very exciting festival for me; perhaps this one is more of a family event, and coming here alone at thirty years old, I am probably not the target audience. At least I got to see a man dressed as a ninja, though.

I take a short wander in the direction of Akihabara Station. Inside the station, I am surprised to find that just outside the entrance to the Sobu Line is a live music event known as JR Live. With five different lines at Akihabara Station, only the people heading to this platform get to witness the delights of this event. It’s a strange location for a stage, if you ask me.

The band is dressed in festive clothing and is performing a familiar tune, but I can’t quite place it. The poster says that ‘This mini orchestra can be enjoyed by both children and the elderly.’ Once again today, I don’t quite fit into the age demographic, and subsequently, I can’t enjoy the music.

I take a train and arrive at Suidobashi Station. From here, I walk five minutes to Tokyo Dome. Today, and for the next three months, the entirety of Tokyo Dome City is wrapped in light as part of its annual winter illuminations.

It becomes apparent to me that at this time of year, all the interesting festivals seem to have finished, only to be replaced by Christmas illuminations and other festive events. In a country where fewer than 1% of the population are Christian, I find it strange that so many places are littered with Christmas decorations, playing Christmas music, and promoting a holiday that doesn’t quite fit in with traditional Japanese culture.

The theme for this year’s Tokyo Dome illuminations is ‘Light of Promenade,’ and there are lots of lights—2.2 million to be exact. Attractions include the ‘Galaxy Dome,’ the elaborately titled ‘Glorious Chandelier,’ and a ‘Milky Way’ of light featuring a 140-metre-long corridor lit by motion sensors. The corridor of lights changes colour as people walk beneath them. The corridor is directly under the path of a well-lit roller coaster; as the ride roars above, the lights flicker and shake.

Despite the subtle Christmas theme featuring only nine massive Christmas trees, the rest of the illuminations look quite nice. An instrumental version of ‘A Whole New World’ from Disney’s Aladdin plays from every speaker in the vicinity. A giant statue of Ultraman stands guard beside a glass pyramid of multicoloured lights, and people dressed in Santa Claus outfits dash about merrily.

Alone, I walk the full length of the illuminations, passing couple after couple holding hands and smiling. I realise that this is my first time seeing any public displays of affection in Japan. It reminds me of just how lonely it is here—the mix of Christmas displays, pretty lights, and couples in love. I take one last photograph of some ordinary trees before heading back to the train station.

On the train, I see a sign that says, ‘Merry ChristmaSOCKS!,’ and it instantly cheers me up.

Conspirators of Treasure

Posted on 23/11/2014 by Luke

The ¥130 sake cup vending machine near my house doesn’t require age verification. Additionally, there’s a vending machine selling lead pipes at the Asakusa View Hotel and another one offering plastic toy animals on the platform as you disembark from the Sobu Line at Akihabara Station. The latter is quite an unexpected sight, as plastic toy animals are the last thing on my mind when I exit a train. However, this is Japan, the land of the prizing sun, and today’s prize is tucked away inside a different kind of vending machine—the King’s Treasure Box.

A sticker on the front of the machine displays the English text, ‘Let it get.’ Unable to contain my curiosity any longer, I insert my ¥1000 note into the treasure box. Above the note slot, there’s an encouraging message, ‘One dream, One note!’ Among the potential prizes are a Nintendo Duel Screen, a PlayStation Vita, and even a product vaguely labelled as ‘Famous car.’

Following the instructions, I press any button, and the machine responds with an exciting clunk. I eagerly reach into the lower chamber to retrieve my prize.

My treasure quietly awaits me on the machine’s inner fake grass—Disco Glasses, proudly labelled ‘Made in China.’ These glasses, devoid of lenses and made from cheap plastic, boast voice-activated flashing red lights. Not exactly what I’d typically consider treasure. With no way of knowing if the machine stocks any ‘good’ prizes, it’s conceivable that it’s 100% Disco Glasses.

Bitter and disappointed, I scrutinise the machine for refund information. Despite my limited Japanese ability, I discern that I can follow the ‘King’s Blog’ for more information. However, details about a refund aren’t quite as forthcoming.

Disheartened by my less-than-thrilling prize, I decide to escape my disappointment by taking trains. I make my way to Aoyama-itchome Station, where my friend Genmei is hosting an art exhibition in the basement of Club Edition. Titled ‘Colourful is Power,’ her display lives up to its name, boasting vibrant hues that captivate the eye.

The venue itself exudes a more bar-like ambiance than a conventional art gallery, contributing to its unique atmosphere. I engage in a brief conversation with Genmei, a talented live painter. Having witnessed some of her live art firsthand, I can confidently say that she is an amazing artist. Her creative endeavours predominantly unfold at trance parties or raves, drawing inspiration from the mood and music of the events.

In a friendly gesture, I offer her my Disco Glasses, but she gracefully declines.

After leaving the gallery/bar, I step outside to find heavy rain pouring down. I navigate the rain-swept streets to reach the station and catch a train to Komagome. Today marks the opening ceremony for an event at Rikugien Gardens—an evening of autumn illuminations. I pay my ¥300 entry fee and enter the darkness.

These three-hundred-year-old landscape gardens have inspired countless poems. It’s been a while since I wrote a haiku, so here goes:

Hollow darkness welcomes me,
To black rain singing,
And decaying leaves screaming.

Stumbling through the woods, I eventually spot maple trees adorned with red and green lights. The path beneath my feet is sodden, my shoes squelching as they tread over the thick, wet mud. Small lanterns mark the way, guiding me through the enchanting scene. I follow the illuminated path, captivated by the beauty around me despite the biting cold. In the distance, ducks play in the lake, trees sway gently in the wind, and steam billows from spotlights, creating a stark contrast to the crisp winter air.

After walking around for about an hour, I realise I am lost in a maze of trees illuminated by scattered lights. At times, I find myself stumbling through the silent darkness. Eventually, I spot a steward; he lacks an umbrella and is soaked to the bone. As I approach, he remains silent, lifting his arm to point toward a small gap between some trees that appears to lead into a void. Quietly following his unspoken guidance, I venture through.

Ten minutes later, I emerge into a scene that resembles a different planet.

Soft blue light gently bathes the fallen autumn leaves, casting a mysterious glow over the tremendous yet somewhat spooky sight. The surroundings are shrouded in mystery and framed by towering trees. A small speaker nearby plays calming music, the falling rain inadvertently adding to the soothing chorus. Mesmerised, I watch the patterns of blue smoke, finally able to enjoy some illuminations.

Having witnessed this captivating spectacle, I embark on a ten-minute journey through quicksand-like mud, eventually finding my way to the exit.

Back in Asakusa, I indulge in drinks until midnight before heading to Tori-no-Ichi part two—the second day of the rooster this month. Once again, the streets are filled with people wielding massive rakes, partaking in the festivities. While the crowd revels in the celebration, I have a singular focus—the street food market.

I opt for Korean-style yakisoba, a generous serving of vegetables and noodles topped with kimchi. Satisfied, I join a relatively short queue for a ¥300 bag of hot baked kasutera. As I relish each bite of my favourite snack, I savour the moment. It’s precisely at this juncture that I discover the batteries in my Disco Glasses have died.

Partly Mechanical, Hardly Human

Posted on 01/10/2014 by Luke

Today I have a meeting with a robot. I take the Tokyo Metro Ginza Line to Aoyama-itchome Station. My destination is the Honda Aoyama Building. I arrive an hour early, so I decide to wander for a bit. I head to the NHK building but it doesn’t look like it’s for tourists, so I leave. I walk the length of Aoyama Cemetery. I kill time in the park. Eventually it is 3 o’clock, robot time!

I enter the Honda cafe. The ground floor of the building features a small stage, and a display of cars and motorcycles. As I wander around, every member of staff greets me with a cheery, “Hello,” and an overly practiced smile. The Honda Aoyama Building is free of charge to enter. There is a small shop selling surprisingly cheap drinks, the coffee is just ¥200 a cup, and hot too!

I take a seat five minutes before the exhibition is scheduled to begin. I am the only person here not wearing a business suit. Although there are thirty chairs, more than half remain empty. A factory construction line, depicting the process of building a car, plays on a large screen. I eagerly await its conclusion. Finally, when it ends, a woman appears, a door opens, and a strange machine drives itself onto the centre of the stage.

The woman speaks only in Japanese, but luckily, the display screen shows English text. What I’m witnessing is a new Honda product called the ‘Uni Cub.’ This mobility device can travel at 6km/h. The machine cruises around the stage for a while before the woman giving the talk takes a seat on the device to demonstrate its capabilities.

I’m unsure of the control mechanism; she simply tilts her body in a particular direction, and the device responds by moving accordingly. It’s quite impressive, and I find myself wanting one. I snap a few photographs, but the other attendees seem less interested, probably here solely for the main event. After the Uni Cub’s display, the woman drives off the stage, vanishing into darkness through a doorway. The video screen then showcases some information about the Uni Cub. Two minutes later, ASIMO makes its appearance.

ASIMO stands for Advanced Step in Innovative MObility, a humanoid robot integrated with Artificial Intelligence. Designed to assist people, ASIMO embodies Honda’s vision of harmonious coexistence between robots and humans. A concept drawing displayed on the screen illustrates a robot helping by carrying boxes up stairs—a representation of their goal. This aligns with Honda’s advertising slogan, ‘The Power of Dreams.’ However, despite their aspirations, ‘The Power of Dreams’ doesn’t seem to extend to comfortable seating. The chair I’m in during this demonstration happens to be the most uncomfortable seat I’ve ever experienced.

ASIMO demonstrates an array of skills: dancing, balancing on one leg, performing jumps with both feet off the ground, and showcasing impressive speed—he can run fast. His walking pace reaches 7km/h, slightly swifter than the Uni Cub. Interestingly, both ASIMO and the Uni Cub are constructed using the same technology. ASIMO stands at a height of 130 centimetres and weighs merely 50 kilogrammes.

The presentation continues in Japanese, detailing Honda’s pioneering work in robotics, which commenced back in 1986. The earlier models—E1, E2, and E3—were primarily aimed at achieving human-like walking capabilities. Subsequent models, E4, E5, and E6, focused on mastering stair climbing. Gradually, a body, arms, and a head were integrated, culminating in Honda’s inaugural humanoid robot, P1. Subsequent iterations, P2 and P3, involved refining and automating various functionalities. Then, in October 2000, ASIMO made its debut, marking the pinnacle of Honda’s robotic advancements.

After additional discussions and visuals, ASIMO surprises us by showcasing its singing abilities. ASIMO’s remarkable skill in sign language communication comes to the forefront as it performs an original sign language song titled ‘Making Dreams Come True.’ A truly remarkable display of its multifaceted capabilities!

“The sky looks lovely today, The clouds flying lightly above.
I wonder, will tomorrow’s sky will [sic] be just as nice?
And how will our sky look in the future?
Let’s cherish our dreams today, and fulfil our dreams tomorrow.
Let’s combine our strength, and achieve our dreams together!”

After his song, ASIMO bids us farewell with a wave and a ‘Thank you.’ An opportunity arises for me to take a photograph alongside the humanoid robot. ASIMO stands, exhibiting human-like head movements and occasional speech. It appears that ASIMO can discern between Japanese and non-Japanese individuals. When a Japanese person approaches for a photographs, ASIMO addresses them in Japanese. However, when it’s my turn, he speaks to me in English, encouraging me to ‘Smile, smile,’ in a voice reminiscent of Pinocchio, the beloved Disney character, before counting down, ‘3 … 2 … 1 …’

The entire presentation lasted about twenty-five minutes. It was gratifying to witness the most advanced robot in existence. Following the presentation, I explore the small souvenir shop, which offers ASIMO stuffed toys, key rings, and other assorted junk.

On the train ride back to Asakusa, I think about the future of robotics. I really hope that someday in the near future, I will be cruising around on my Uni Cub with my very own ASIMO running alongside me.

Some Like It Hot Tea

Posted on 31/08/2014 by Luke

I decide to hire a bicycle. A friend from England, Damien, decides to join me. We grab two ¥300 bicycles for the day and cycle in the direction of Ueno. On the way, we pass a random stage on Kappabashi ‘kitchen’ Street. Men and women dressed in traditional taiko clothing hit massive taiko drums. A security guard stands watch, eyeing me up as I take a photograph.

We cycle around Ueno Station and toward Ueno Park. Today and tomorrow, there is a festival here, the Philippine Festival 2014. The festival is sponsored by the international money transfer company Western Union. The space for the festival hasn’t been very well utilised. There are two rows of small stalls on both sides, and a third row through the middle, which completely obstructs the view of the small stage.

I promised a friend I would bring her a souvenir from the festival. To my dismay, all of the stalls appear to be for financial institutions or property letting companies. There is a stall offering tax refunds, there are stalls for various banks, there are stalls selling insurance. There is not one stand that seems to offer anything remotely souvenir.

We take a seat near an ice cream shop opposite the festival. I rant to Damien about how much the festival has annoyed me; he is in agreement. A woman starts to sing from the stage that you can’t even see. The song from Frozen, ‘Let It Go.’ I almost go on another angry rant but decide to just let it go.

Back on the bikes, we head to Nippori Station, cycling through Textile Town and Fabric Town on the way. We cross the railway tracks and head to a big area of green on my map, thinking it will be some kind of park or temple.

For the second day in a row I find myself standing in a cemetery.

Yanaka Reien is massive. Over 7,000 tombstones are here. The cemetery is so big that it contains a police station and a children’s swing park. The Tokugawa Family Graveyard is here too. The last shogun, Tokugawa Yoshinobu, rests here alongside fourteen other Tokugawa shoguns. There is one area that slightly confuses me; it is marked on the map as ‘The First Three-dimensional Deposit Facility’. We have no idea what this means, a Google search is like spinning our wheels, so we get back on the bicycles and do just that.

We head back toward Ueno Park, stopping off at the Daimyo Clock Museum to kill some time before returning to Asakusa. Outside the Don Quixote store, there is the Rokku Hanamichi Flower Festival taking place. Music is being performed on a small stage, but the flowers are notable by their absence.

Our next stop is over the Sumida River, to a place I visited whilst filming the cycle tour: Mukojima-Hyakkaen Gardens. The entrance fee is still ¥150. Today is Mushi-Kiki-no-Kai, which I am told means, ‘Enjoying the sound of insects.’ The event today describes itself as ‘An exhibition of various kinds of chirping insects, their chirping sounds, and the fantastic garden scenery.’ The insects aren’t quite as attractive as the description of the event, but the sounds they make are.

A Japanese lady in a kimono approaches us as we stare at the crickets. “Where are you from?” … “Ah, England! Do you like tea ceremony?” Both Damien and I are yet to experience a traditional Japanese tea ceremony, so we go along with it and are invited into a tatami mat room, shoes off, kneel down, join the others. The other thirteen people attending are Japanese.

We wait a while before the process begins. When it finally does, we pass around a tray containing sweets filled with a red bean filling. I thank the person to my right for passing me the tray, I bow, I thank Damien to my left for letting me take a sweet before him, I bow, I take a sweet, I eat it. It is all very methodical. Next, it is tea time. Young women in kimonos kneel one at a time in front of people, bow, and place a bowl of green tea in front of them. They move in a clockwise order.

Before drinking, I ask the woman to my right if she would like any more tea, and politely, she refuses. No one ever says, ‘Yes,’ at this stage; it is purely a formality. I lift the bowl of tea, place it on my left hand, turn it clockwise twice, then drink it all in one go. Then when the bowl is collected, I bow once again.

The sweet was delicious, the tea was cold. I always preferred hot tea. The woman that invited us to the ceremony said that they would usually offer hot tea, but because it is a hot day, they decided to serve it cold. After the ceremony, we are allowed to inspect the beautifully crafted bowls and the container that holds the green tea powder.

The tea ceremony, I later find out, should have cost us ¥2000 each, but we were never asked to pay anything.

We head back to Asakusa, return our bicycles, then go our separate ways. I head to Cafe Byron Bay for a green curry and a chat with the locals. I meet a real-life ninja and a fugu chef. Fugu is a delicacy in Japan, but is somewhat poisonous. I make plans to eat the deadly fish and take down the details of the restaurant. Maybe I will be visiting my third cemetery in a week.

Nothing Happens Until Something Moves

Posted on 11/08/2014 by Luke

I have to walk ten minutes from my hotel to a different hotel with my laundry. The rain is heavy; a super typhoon has hit, making the rain and wind stronger than any I’ve ever experienced. However, I need to do my laundry. The sky outside is the darkest grey. Eventually, I find the other hotel. Fortunately, the coin laundry is accessible directly from the street, saving me the awkwardness of entering a hotel where I’m not staying just to use their facilities.

The laundry room is accessed through a shutter door currently pried open by what looks like a rotten plank of wood, which is a little worrying. Outside, noisy construction work is taking place despite the weather. The noise makes it rather difficult to concentrate on my book. I plan to spend as little time as possible outside today, so there is no point traipsing back through the storm just yet.

Inside the coin laundry, the room is dirty. The old vending machines no longer dispense detergent; luckily for me, I bought a ¥28 single-wash-sized pouch on the way here. I sit reading, waiting for my clothes, occasionally glancing up at the dirty walls.

With the laundry done, I head back to the hotel as fast as I can. On the way, I notice abandoned inside-out umbrellas dumped on the street. I observe people ducking and diving into shelter, and I see areas of the pavement completely flooded. Meanwhile, the sound of sirens fills the air.

Back at the hotel, I sit by the balcony on the second floor of the lobby, quietly reading my book. I don’t mind rainy days, actually; I quite like the peace of sitting in silence and reading. It appears that a lot of people are holed up in the hotel today. Every now and then, someone walks to the window, sees that it is still raining, and then goes back to sit down. We are all waiting for the typhoon to pass.

At 3 p.m., I am allowed back into my room. As I use the hairdryer on my shoes, I keep an eye on the news. After a short while, I hear the words, ‘Nagoya Station.’

There on the news is the train station, with taxis parked outside and rain falling. The typhoon has moved north, but the backlash of rain still falls. The bullet trains have all been cancelled.

Japan’s biggest broadcaster NHK seems to love this sort of stuff; for the next two hours, all they talk about is the typhoon. Cut to: Windscreen wipers frantically moving back and forth. Cut to: Drains overflowing. Cut to: Businessmen trying to juggle briefcases and carry an umbrella, only for it to whoosh inside-out. Cut to: All the bicycles blown over by the wind. Cut to: Rivers overflowing. Cut to: Trees shaking in the wind. This is about all I see for twenty minutes, then the footage repeats, and then repeats.

Outside, the rain looks like a white sheet being hung over the skyline. The wind is stronger now, blowing the rain sideways, making it very difficult to see the buildings in the distance. The last super typhoon I experienced passed miserably through the night; I never really got to see the chaos that it caused. Sitting here, I realise just how gloomy and grey today has been.

Eventually, the rain stops, and the wind dies down. At 7 p.m., I head out to the twenty-four-hour supermarket. On the way, I pass a sign about littering: a ten million yen fine and five years’ imprisonment. Inside the supermarket, a digitally transposed version of ‘Dreams’ by the Cranberries is playing. I buy some cheese and a small bottle of wine. At the self-service checkout, I scan the wine; a message pops up, ‘Are you over twenty? Yes/No.’ I press ‘yes’ and then finish and pay. There’s no one around to check, just press ‘yes.’ Honesty is the best policy.

On the way back I pass a restaurant with a full set of Christmas lights. The full works.

Back at the hotel, I Skype with a friend from England. After that, I get deep into my reading until I finish my book. At 10 p.m., I head out to my nearest Family Mart to pick up some food. Inside Family Mart, that same Japanese song with the nice melody is playing. I can just make out a few words; hopefully, it will be enough to find out what it is.

When I return, I turn my attention to Japanese pop music. I listen to the top 30 songs in this week’s Billboard Japan Hot 100 chart. Oddly, Pharrell Williams with ‘Happy’ is at 29th. At 9th and 10th positions are two different songs from the same artist. A song from the anime Sailor Moon is in the top ten. AKB48 sister-band, SKE48, is number one. The song I am trying to find is nowhere to be heard.

Instead, I find myself staring at this sign in my hotel room:

I do eventually find out the name of the song I keep hearing. It turns out to be a cover version of the other song I’ve been hearing, the one from Disney’s Frozen: ‘Let it Go’. It’s a Japanese version played on the piano, sounding very different from the English version—and a lot better, too. I spend the rest of my evening listening to various Japanese versions of ‘Let it Go’ on YouTube but can’t find the particular version I like. Maybe I shouldn’t have admitted that, though. I cannot bear the responsibility.

Robot Women, Fast Cars, Voodoo Dolls, and Dinosaurs

Posted on 09/08/2014 by Luke

The queue for the Nagoya City Science Museum spills from the door. Inside, there is a snaked queue that runs eight rows deep. A screen on the wall tells me that every time slot for the world’s largest Planetarium has sold out, and it isn’t even 11 a.m. A shame, this was probably my best chance of seeing stars in Japan. The museum also has a special exhibit on at the moment, the Dragon Ball Science Event, and this is most likely the reason for all of the queueing chaos I am witnessing today.

To avoid wasting a day in a queue, I decide to take a look at the Electricity Museum, some two blocks away. I follow the signs and even find a map listing the museum, but for some reason, I can’t find it. I swing by the nearest Seven Eleven and connect to their free wireless Internet. Google Maps directs me to where I had just been walking, but nope. It doesn’t appear to be here. Perhaps closed down, who knows.

I swing by the Nagoya Musical Theatre to see what’s showing: the 5,000th performance of Beauty and the Beast. One thing I notice on my walk back toward Nagoya Station is that on nearly every street, there’s a building called ‘Toyota’. They seem to have infiltrated even the darkest Nagoya alleyways. Continuing my walk, it takes a somewhat dark turn. I wander into a lonely shopping arcade. All of the shops are closed or boarded up. Everywhere is silent. It’s as if this arcade is part of some other world. There hangs some incredibly macabre imagery.

A giant voodoo doll hangs from part of the roof, its belly split open, multi-coloured intestines bursting out, its mouth sewn up, and a giant needle stabbing into its neck. I have no idea what it begins to represent. The voodoo doll isn’t the only horrific image on this street. There’s also a giant multi-coloured face with a top hat and a satanic grin, a sinister-looking golden unicorn with eyes that seem to watch my every movement, and plenty of vampiric bats scattered around. As I pass through the arcade, my footsteps leave behind an echoed creak.

My next stop is a place called ‘Midland Square’. Inside there are many shops and restaurants. The official name for this skyscraper is the Toyota-Mainichi Building. This building is tall. The elevators take an alarmingly quick forty seconds to rise all the way to the top of this 247 metre structure. It also boasts the highest open-air observation deck in Japan.

Inside, there are posh restaurants, two car showrooms, a cinema, and sixty big brand stores such as Louis Vuitton and Vulcanize. These are all places where I’d never shop. Instead, I go and look at some cars. Displayed are a Toyota TS010 and a Toyota TS030 Hybrid.

There’s an attractive young woman in a light brown suit wearing a mouthpiece. She speaks in Japanese, presumably about the vehicles. Something about her strikes me as odd—her voice doesn’t match her appearance, and her movements are very rigid. It’s entirely possible that she isn’t a human being but a very cleverly designed or disguised robot.

Next, I decide to visit the local gardens near my hotel—Noritake Gardens, to be precise. A sign at the entrance informs me that all animals must be kept in a cage; who exactly brings their caged dog to a public garden? This place is very famous as it’s the birthplace of modern pottery in Japan. There’s a spot marked on the map called ‘Chimney Gardens,’ so I head there and find six tall chimneys shrouded in foliage—the remnants of the pottery plant. The view of these historic chimneys is unexpectedly spoilt by a dinosaur.

For no reason that I can see, on the old grounds of this historic and award-winning site, stand three robotic dinosaurs. They move around, opening and closing their mouths, roaring at the children. This site holds industrial heritage significance, showcasing the conservation of a 110-year-old kiln that was used to develop the first Noritake plate. The company continues to trade today, and Noritake tableware remains a household name throughout Japan.

The remains of the factory wall can also be seen, reconstructed from the bricks of old kilns. Bricks were imported into Japan at the end of the Edo period, and the remnants of the red brick plant hold significant value as industrial heritage. However, this time, the remains of the wall are obstructed by a Tyrannosaurus Rex and Carnival Cutouts. Unbelievable.

Also, for reasons I can’t explain, there are thousands of dragonflies here too. I’m not sure what it is about bricks that dragonflies like, but there are so many that everywhere I walk, I have to avoid being hit by one of these stray insects as they dart about without a care. No cages for the dragonflies.

My final stop today is Nagoya Castle. Every city I visit seems to have its own tower and castle. Nagoya Castle is probably a twenty-minute walk from Noritake Gardens. By the time I arrive, it’s 5 p.m., and the Genkan closed thirty minutes ago, bolted shut. The sign on the stone walls tells me not to climb, so it looks like I’m out of options. At least I can see the entire castle from a walkway over a busy intersection.

After visiting the castle, I return to the hotel and rent a laptop for three days for ¥3000. I spend three or four hours writing, and time drifts by. I’ve arranged to meet Nick at half past ten, a Canadian guy I met back in Asakusa who lives in Nagoya.

A guy in the Irish bar last night suggested I try Nagoya-style udon noodles. So, I decide to give them a second chance. I order a simple bowl of noodles with an egg mixed in for good measure. It’s a very cheap meal, ¥400 with a glass of water. On reflection, I still prefer every other type of noodle over udon.

I meet Nick outside Nagoya Station, and we walk half an hour across town to an international bar called ‘Shooters’. We drink and chat until last orders are called at half-past twelve, before walking back to Nagoya Station.

Nagoya is a huge city, yet I discover that Nick’s apartment is in the building directly across the road from my hotel.

When Haricot Met Celery

Posted on 07/08/2014 by Luke

I wake up at 9 a.m. and head down to the lobby for my Japanese-style breakfast. The food is almost identical to yesterday. The grilled fish of the day is once again salmon. The only change is that my cooked seasonal vegetables today are haricot beans and peppers, mixed in with natto. My side salad includes corn on the cob, celery, and red onion. I gaze out of the window whilst I struggle with my breakfast, a meal I am not used to eating.

After breakfast, I take the subway from Shin-Osaka Station to Namba Station. Getting off the train, I head toward the famous Namba Grand Kagetsu Theatre, hoping to catch some manzai comedy. Osaka actually produces most of the comedians in Japan. Manzai is a type of stand-up comedy where two comedians perform a routine together. Even if in Japanese, good manzai can be very funny to watch because a big part of the show is the timings and actions on stage. Sadly, there is no performance happening at the moment.

I check my map and decide to head to a place called ‘Americamura.’ I wonder what I will find there.

Shops here sell American clothing, some entirely dedicated to selling baseball hats or soccer jerseys. Mixed in with this madness are shops selling skate, punk, and retro clothing. I enter a bookshop that sells herbal teas, skateboards, and, of course, books.

All of the big brands have their own ‘flagship’ stores here. Mixed in with the clothing are some really cheap-looking bars selling inexpensive drinks. Surprisingly, all the tourists and shoppers here are Japanese; there isn’t an American in sight. I’m not quite sure how this place came to be. After a few blocks, I see a Tokyu Hands; the store marks for me where America ends and Japan begins again.

I decide to take a break from the heat and head to the fifth floor using the Tokyu Hands elevator. The shop describes itself as a ‘Creative Life Store’, offering a vast array of products. On this floor, they have party supplies, a variety of items, magician supplies, and bicycles. A song from the film ‘Frozen’ is playing, the Japanese version. I check out some of the cool gadgets, then glance at the prices of bicycles; they’re quite expensive here.

If you’re not particularly interested in shopping, today probably isn’t for you—or for me. I head into the Shin-sai-bashi shopping arcade. This is one of Osaka’s oldest and busiest shopping areas, stretching for approximately 600 metres. Everything you ever wanted is in this arcade.

There is a shop that only sells ‘Hello Kitty’ goods, and another named ‘Pancakes, Teas, Coffee, and Happy.’ I’ve noticed that in Osaka, the word happy is used an awful lot. SoftBank, a Japanese telecommunications company, has its own robot. It moves around and engages in a conversation with me about their new products. His name is Pepper.

Also in the shopping arcade are the usual clothes shops, restaurants, and souvenir shops. I head into my second bookshop of the day, Junkudo. I’m searching for two specific books. I find one of them, ‘Pinball 1973,’ but it’s only available in the Japanese version. I’m trying to get hold of the English version printed for Japanese people to practice their English skills.

As I leave the bookshop, I’m taken slightly aback by a sign. At the bottom of the escalator, there’s an advertisement for ‘Meets,’ the bar I mentioned a few days ago. It displays a price list along with some other Japanese text. I take a photograph and add it to my folder of coincidences. Back in the arcade, that same song from the film ‘Frozen’ is playing.

Next, I visit a place called Dotonbori. The pavement here is littered with small restaurants and pachinko parlours. Each restaurant is stacked high, adorned with brightly coloured signage that becomes illuminated in the evenings. It’s the sort of street that I imagine looks just like a scene from Blade Runner at dusk, especially when it’s raining.

On the other side of Namba Station are shops selling manga and anime in an area known as Den Den Town. I spot two or three shops exclusively dedicated to selling Magic: The Gathering playing cards. Other shops offer model figurines and electronics. It reminds me of Akihabara, but on a much smaller scale. Girls dressed as maids stand on street corners, attempting to lure people into the many maid cafes.

I waste a quick ¥500 in a Sega video game arcade before heading back to the train station. At the station, I have to walk through even more shops to reach the platform. I take the Koya Line just one stop to Shin-imamiya Station. I decide to check out a place called Spa World, but it seems luck isn’t on my side as there’s a fence around it, and it appears to be closed for construction.

Instead, I head toward a tower in the distance. To reach the tower, I have to walk down yet another shopping street.

Unlike the other shopping streets, this one boasts a 103.3-metre-tall tower right in the middle—Tsutenkaku Tower, meaning ‘Tower reaching heaven.’ I also admire the Carnival Cutouts; one depicts what seems to be a sumo wrestler devouring a skewer of meat or wielding a rolling pin. It’s a bit ambiguous, but my guess would be a skewer, considering that’s all the restaurants in this area seem to be selling.

I choose a completely empty restaurant, taking a seat wherever I want, and order a Suntory whisky highball with lemon. With the number of times I’ve mentioned their whisky and coffee, I should probably get some commission money from Suntory. I opt for three salmon skewers and three white fish skewers. While I wait, I snack on the complimentary fresh lettuce and sip my highball.

The white fish turns out to be haddock, while the salmon is fresh, served with a light tartare sauce dressing. The skewered meat is already prepared on the counter; all the chef needs to do is cover each fish with flour, egg, and breadcrumbs before deep frying each stick in oil. This restaurant has all sorts of crazy ideas, but the ones that stand out are cheesecake skewers, ice cream skewers, and banana skewers. I’d eat fried fish on sticks every day if it weren’t for the fact that it would probably kill me. At ¥1050, not bad with a drink.

I head back out into the scorching sunshine. At the end of the shopping street is a zoo, complete with a Snow White Clock Tower. The time is now ten to three in the afternoon, so I decide to wait and see if anything happens on the hour. My life is that exciting. Sure enough, at three, everything starts moving, singing, and dancing, and then Snow White emerges from the clock. Not to be missed—the Tennoji Zoo.

At Tennoji Station, I board what I believe is the Osaka Loop Line. As it turns out, it isn’t. After three stops, everyone disembarks. I find myself disoriented; there are no signs indicating my location. I board the train across the platform, which indicates it’s the Rapid Service bound for Nara. Fortunately, it stops back at Tennoji Station. Returning to where I started, I board the Osaka Loop Line to Osaka. From there, I transfer trains to Shin-Osaka, before deciding that six trains in a day are plenty.

Back at the hotel, I read for a while before sorting through my photographs of the day. I stare at the sign I saw in the bookshop, advertising that same bar. I decide to head out and see if it is open tonight. I walk ten minutes to the bar and am pleased to see its shutters up.

I first visited Meets when I was in Osaka in July 2012. The bar is L-shaped and has a total of seven seats. That night two years ago remains my favourite nightlife experience in Japan. Despite its small size, there were two members of staff working there: a man and a young woman who bore a striking resemblance to Jennifer Aniston. I spent the whole evening talking to her. However, she didn’t speak a word of English, so we conversed in turns using her smartphone translation application. She would speak in Japanese, I would read the text, and then reply in English, and so on.

Anyway, back to today. Only one member of staff is working, a Japanese man called Ken. He’s the same guy who was working that night two years ago. I order a Suntory whisky highball and take a seat. I’m the only customer; a baseball game is playing on the television. At 8:50 p.m., Ken switches the television channel from baseball to the ending credits of a random show whose name I might never know. On-screen for no longer than three seconds appears Micaela Braithwaite, the woman I greeted in Fukuoka. I can’t snap a photograph fast enough.

The bar I saw advertised in a bookshop today, and he changes the channel at that exact moment. Ten seconds later, the credits stop and the adverts begin. What are the chances? Sometimes, it feels like I’m living inside my own memories. “I’ve worked here for three years now,” Ken tells me, chipping in with small talk.

Next, a girl named Mana enters the scene. She is from Taito, the same ward in Tokyo as Asakusa; we are practically neighbours, though a million miles away from home. We drink. Ken writes all of our names in kanji, while I write them in hiragana and katakana. We continue drinking. Mana and I talk about Asakusa, although our conversation is limited to basic English and basic Japanese. Unfortunately, there’s never a smartphone translation application around when you need one.

At 10 p.m., I finish my final highball, bid goodbye to Mana, and say farewell to Ken. My bill comes to ¥2500 for four singles and a double. “See you in two years,” I tell Ken, jokingly.

After Meets, I attempt to find some food; I haven’t eaten anything since the fish on sticks. The area around Nishinakajimaminamigata Station is littered with touts, neon lights, and shady massage parlours. I’ve been craving curry for perhaps a week. The first restaurant, simply named ‘Indian Restaurant,’ displays ‘Last Orders at 11:30 p.m.’ As I approach, the Japanese chef who’s taking in the sign informs me that they are closed.

The second restaurant is owned by a Nepalese family and is open. Inside, I order a bottle of ‘Nepal Ice,’ having never tried it before; do as the Nepalese do, and all that. The beer boldly claims to be the ‘coolest beer.’ It’s pale with a slight bitterness, just like me.

I order the classic vegetable curry, egg rice, and garlic naan. The Nepalese waiter speaks English but habitually addresses me in Japanese. “Poppadom,” he says as he hands me a spicy poppadom.
“Arigatou gozaimasu,” I reply in Japanese, out of habit. The poppadom is a little stale but spicy; it will do. Hopefully, it isn’t a taste of things to come. The muskiness is slightly drowned out by the spice, and the spice itself is drowned out by the Nepal Ice.

My food arrives, and I order a second bottle of beer. The spice level is almost perfect—perhaps it could be a tiny bit hotter, but I don’t mind much. I pay ¥2350 for two drinks and a really good curry.

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