On this particular Thursday, I woke up at a decent hour. Andrew had been researching record shops in Japan, and today was the day to try and locate them all. So we grabbed Mal and jetted off. Luckily Shinjuku so happened to be some sort of record store hub, so we stumbled across even more stores than we thought we might. All in all, hitting up about 5 stores, only to find one cd to Andrew's liking. There is nothing I enjoy more than looking at crusty album covers from the 80's while Andrew tries to discover which Japanese hardcore bands are worthwhile only by looking at the cover artwork. I didn't find anything. But I did fall in love with Michael Jackson's "Thriller" album on vinyl, and must immediately locate it and purchase a recored player when I get home.
We had worked up quite an appetite sifting through dusty shit, and I needed to thoroughly wash my hands. We decided on this Indian spot across from one of the spots and ate tons of mediocre curry and naan. They even had a salad bar, which is apparently a strange occurrence in Japan. But I guess what do you expect from a Indian place in Japan? They do shit differently. They do what they want. We each got three types of curry: chicken, potato and pea, and scollop (which was by far the best).
This next part is about to get fucking cute. If you thought that dancing polar bear at the mn zoo was cute, you have been surly mistaken, because nothing tops this. After indian food, we skipped off to Ueno zoo to check out the GIANT Panda's. This zoo was pretty cheap, all things considered. It also had not one, but TWO giant pandas! Eager as a fucking kite on a windy day, we waited in line to see them in all of their glory. After about 40 minutes in a line that seemed to be moving at a snails pace, we made our way to the to front of the line. In front of us were two giant pandas gnawing on bamboo in the cutest fashion. No wondering the line moved so terribly slow, I could have stayed in front of that glass watching them eat all day.
The rest of the zoo was your average run of the mill zoo, with a few different animals caged up, but nothing too spectacular. We caught the train home and stopped off at a combini to grab, food, wine, and chu-hi's. I am not sure if I mentioned this before, but combini is a japanese term for convenient store. Let me tell you that they are NOTHING like the convenient store's back home. All the food is legit, and you can buy straight up liquor. You don't have to worry about anything giving you food poisoning or ruining your day. Everything is extremely fresh and most importantly, legit.
After a lazy day at the zoo, we capped off our day with drinks and moveis at home. Movies included: Dodgeball, American Psycho, and Blue Streak. Although I fell asleep during the last one.
Monday, May 2, 2011
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Ykohama.
I woke up at the normal, ass crack of dawn hour and devoured a bowl of granola and soymilk. Today Andrew had a tattoo consultation in Yokohama. Seeing as we weren’t the best at riding the trains solo, we allowed 2.5 hours to get to our destination that would take any Japanese person only an hour. Even with all of the extra time we allowed, we still somehow managed to be an hour late.
We arrived at Yellow Blaze Tattoo Studio in Yokohama and sat down with Tomo, the extremely talented tattoo artist. Andrew explained his idea and they talked numbers. The only problem with talking numbers, was a) the Yen to Dollar confusion, and b) how much fucking money he wanted for a tattoo. After crunching numbers, using a currency converter, and talking with friends, we realized that this guy wanted a little over 4k for the tattoo Andrew had in mind. And let me tell you, ain’t no tattoo worth 4 grand. I don’t care if you are using gold ink or god himself is tattooing you. Who has that kind of money for a tattoo! In the nicest way possible we told him absolutely not, and then asked him where a good spot to grab lunch was to lighten the mood and cushion the disappointment.
We looked at a map, said our goodbyes, and scooted off to China Town. It was fairly large, and highly confusing. If our Japanese wasn’t already terrible enough, now we had to try and communicate with Chinese people living in Japan. We went to the first spot that had lunch specials and asked to see a menu. Thank god the entire thing was a picture menu, making it much easier to order. We pointed to each dish to enquire what was in it, and got enough English out of our server to order. I ended up with a cashew chicken dish, and Andrew ended up with a spicy tofu dish… with beef! Why they decided that tofu and beef went together was beyond me.
After our surprise meals, we walked around a bit and looked at some shops along way out of China Town. After strolling the streets of Yokohama for an hour or so, we made our way back to the train station and back to Tokyo.
We stopped in Harijuku on our way back and grabbed some snacks to eat in Yoyogi Park. Of course after about 30 minutes, the wind started howling and it looked like rain. So we took a stroll through Harijuku and down Cat Street. We finally made our way to The Pink Cow, had a delicious veggie burger, and that fantastic burrito again.
Can’t beat good friends and food.
Bicyles and Ramen.
On this brilliant Tuesday morning, I woke up around 9am. Figuring Andrew and Mike were still in a booze coma, I got up fucked around on the internet for a bit. It was a while before we got up and going, but soon decided that we were going to take a bike ride to get "White Guy Ramen." White Guy Ramen, of course being another made up name. The ramen we were on a quest for was from a shop owned by a white guy named Ivan from Long Island. He was actually quite popular out here. He had two restaurants and cup ramen in grocery stores all over Tokyo.
Ramen in Japan is quite different that the states. It is quite fatty, but at least here they don't give you a block of stiff noodles, have you dump hot water over it, and sprinkle it with MSG. Sure, the Ramen you buy in grocery stores here sing something of the same tune, but not nearly as terrible as the 25 cent packs you buy back in the states. The ramen here is large, delicious, and hearty. Usually there are 3 different flavors to choose from, and one daily special. You can choose to add raw egg, or pork, or both. Definitely not good for you, but definitely worth going back for.
We biked and biked and biked and finally found the spot where we indulged in some heavy ramen. After the ramen ride, we jumped back onto our trusty steeds and found ourselves at another sushi spot. This conveyer belt sushi place was 100x more intense than the first. There were many more types of sushi going around at this location, PLUS an addition of juice boxes and fruit. And let me tell you, I like it when juice boxes pass by at a conveniently slow pace along side of tasty sashimi and sushi rolls.
After sushi we biked off the 10lbs of food we had just consumed and headed over to Harijuku to do some window shopping. We found a couple of cool t-shirt shops that happened to be playing Motion City Soundtrack, which felt like home. But really we were just killing time until it was time to meet up with Diachi in Nakano at the 80's bar Jamie used to work at. It was small and underground with tons of 80's vinyl and posters on the wall. After requesting a plentiful amount of 80's jams, we called it quits and headed home for the night. I am pretty sure we need an 80's bar in minneapolis. Scratch that, an 80's karaoke bar. yep.
Ramen in Japan is quite different that the states. It is quite fatty, but at least here they don't give you a block of stiff noodles, have you dump hot water over it, and sprinkle it with MSG. Sure, the Ramen you buy in grocery stores here sing something of the same tune, but not nearly as terrible as the 25 cent packs you buy back in the states. The ramen here is large, delicious, and hearty. Usually there are 3 different flavors to choose from, and one daily special. You can choose to add raw egg, or pork, or both. Definitely not good for you, but definitely worth going back for.
We biked and biked and biked and finally found the spot where we indulged in some heavy ramen. After the ramen ride, we jumped back onto our trusty steeds and found ourselves at another sushi spot. This conveyer belt sushi place was 100x more intense than the first. There were many more types of sushi going around at this location, PLUS an addition of juice boxes and fruit. And let me tell you, I like it when juice boxes pass by at a conveniently slow pace along side of tasty sashimi and sushi rolls.
After sushi we biked off the 10lbs of food we had just consumed and headed over to Harijuku to do some window shopping. We found a couple of cool t-shirt shops that happened to be playing Motion City Soundtrack, which felt like home. But really we were just killing time until it was time to meet up with Diachi in Nakano at the 80's bar Jamie used to work at. It was small and underground with tons of 80's vinyl and posters on the wall. After requesting a plentiful amount of 80's jams, we called it quits and headed home for the night. I am pretty sure we need an 80's bar in minneapolis. Scratch that, an 80's karaoke bar. yep.
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Eat more greens.
At 6:30 am, I woke up with a mullet. I smoothed down and fluffed up my hair and quickly got dressed. Today was the day we tagged along with Mike and Ashley to their yoga class at Temple school. About three train rides and an hour later, we made it to the class. Temple school is an American school, in Japan. Everyone speaks English, and most everyone is American. This was the first time I had every done yoga. It wasn't fucking around either, and kicked my ass hard.
After yoga we took a walk to a restaurant called, "eat more greens." It was a quaint little spot maybe half a mile away from school. The restaurant offered vegetarian lunch specials and vegan pastries. We sat outside in the gorgeous weather, ate, and sipped iced tea.
After lunch, we had some time to kill. Andrew, Mike, and I hopped on a train back to the Shibuya area. From Shibuya going into Harijuku there is a street called, "Cat Street." Straight up, Cat Street. This street consists of little places to eat, designer clothing stores, and thrift shops. The thrift shops in Japan aren't to be fucked with. For some reason they think it is acceptable to charge 12000 Yen (which is about $135.00) for a shitty college sweatshirt with holes in it. Disgusted, we left in a hurry. Although I was tempted to buy this sweet "Thriller" cap for $45.00, but something told me to walk away.
At the verrrrry end of Cat Street is a place called, "Tree Bar." Now, I'm not quite sure if it is actually called tree bar, but it was located on the second level of a building with a tree growing through the center of it. Thus the nickname, tree bar. We read books on tree-houses and had a few drinks before making our way through Harijuku and to Yoyogi park.
Harijuku is a large shopping district with tons of shops, big and small. Tons of familiar stores like Forever 21 and H&M. Since it is a large shopping district, it is also a large fashion district. Any kind of person you would like to find is Harijuku, is there.
Yoyogi park is a big a beautiful park. The only downside is that the grass isn't real (as in it looks like shitty crab grass), and it doubles as a bum park. Bums seriously live there with huge tents with all of their belongings inside. Unfortunately we couldn't spend much time there because we had to get back to Temple and meet up with Ashley to go swimming in the local hotel pool. The only problem with this plan was that Andrew wasn't carrying his passport with him and got denied at the entrance. Defeated we hopped a train back home and took a nice and lengthy nap. Well, I did anyhow.
After my nap, we went and got sushi for dinner. we went to this little spot in Kichijoji that spits out sashimi on a conveyer belt, and you pick what you want to eat when passes in front of you on the belt. Sashimi out here is also dirt cheap, and some of the best/freshest fish you will ever consume. Even the shitty convenient store sushi is 100x better than any sushi you would get at Fuji-ya or Tiger Sushi back home. Poor midwesterners are doing the best they can.
After sushi, we went to this tiny hole in the wall (as always) and ate at a place we called, "Panda Bar." I realize I am making up names for every place that I visit. So if you are in the market for going to Japan, and would like some recommendations, I am not sure I am the person to ask. Every place I've been thus far has been a made up name, as I cannot read the actual names on the store fronts. We had some drinks, tackled some gyoza and headed home, where I passed out immediately. Andrew and Mike on the other hand, went out and drank at a neighborhood spot until 3am.
After yoga we took a walk to a restaurant called, "eat more greens." It was a quaint little spot maybe half a mile away from school. The restaurant offered vegetarian lunch specials and vegan pastries. We sat outside in the gorgeous weather, ate, and sipped iced tea.
After lunch, we had some time to kill. Andrew, Mike, and I hopped on a train back to the Shibuya area. From Shibuya going into Harijuku there is a street called, "Cat Street." Straight up, Cat Street. This street consists of little places to eat, designer clothing stores, and thrift shops. The thrift shops in Japan aren't to be fucked with. For some reason they think it is acceptable to charge 12000 Yen (which is about $135.00) for a shitty college sweatshirt with holes in it. Disgusted, we left in a hurry. Although I was tempted to buy this sweet "Thriller" cap for $45.00, but something told me to walk away.
At the verrrrry end of Cat Street is a place called, "Tree Bar." Now, I'm not quite sure if it is actually called tree bar, but it was located on the second level of a building with a tree growing through the center of it. Thus the nickname, tree bar. We read books on tree-houses and had a few drinks before making our way through Harijuku and to Yoyogi park.
Harijuku is a large shopping district with tons of shops, big and small. Tons of familiar stores like Forever 21 and H&M. Since it is a large shopping district, it is also a large fashion district. Any kind of person you would like to find is Harijuku, is there.
Yoyogi park is a big a beautiful park. The only downside is that the grass isn't real (as in it looks like shitty crab grass), and it doubles as a bum park. Bums seriously live there with huge tents with all of their belongings inside. Unfortunately we couldn't spend much time there because we had to get back to Temple and meet up with Ashley to go swimming in the local hotel pool. The only problem with this plan was that Andrew wasn't carrying his passport with him and got denied at the entrance. Defeated we hopped a train back home and took a nice and lengthy nap. Well, I did anyhow.
After my nap, we went and got sushi for dinner. we went to this little spot in Kichijoji that spits out sashimi on a conveyer belt, and you pick what you want to eat when passes in front of you on the belt. Sashimi out here is also dirt cheap, and some of the best/freshest fish you will ever consume. Even the shitty convenient store sushi is 100x better than any sushi you would get at Fuji-ya or Tiger Sushi back home. Poor midwesterners are doing the best they can.
After sushi, we went to this tiny hole in the wall (as always) and ate at a place we called, "Panda Bar." I realize I am making up names for every place that I visit. So if you are in the market for going to Japan, and would like some recommendations, I am not sure I am the person to ask. Every place I've been thus far has been a made up name, as I cannot read the actual names on the store fronts. We had some drinks, tackled some gyoza and headed home, where I passed out immediately. Andrew and Mike on the other hand, went out and drank at a neighborhood spot until 3am.
Monday, April 25, 2011
A stroll through Kichijoji park.
Let me tell you. Waking up at 6am for no apparent reason, is fucking brutal. Absolutely nothing is open, nobody else is awake, and you need a nap by 10am. Embracing our 6:15am wake up call, we manage to putz around the place for three entire hours before deciding that something has got to be open. It is just absolutely gorgeous outside on this particular day. Not having a smart phone, or any sort of weather checking capabilities besides licking my finger and holding it to the wind, it had to be around 70 degrees and sunny.
I've got my shorts on, a pair of sunglasses, and about 37 cameras in hand to document this fantastic day. The plan for the day had been to test our directional skills and make our way to Kichijoji Park for the day which was about a 30 minute walk, all in all. We finally made it out of the house around 9am and found a little bakery where absolutely nothing was in English. Inside were copious amounts of pastries and breakfast foods. We piled onto our basket any and everything that looked good, and somehow only managed to spend about 800 Yen.
It was a Sunday. The stroll to Kichijoji park was absolutely beautiful. We walked along side a river and admired all of the fruit trees and cherry blossoms along the way. If we peeked over the guard rail far enough, we could see some of the largest Koi Fish I have ever seen. The trip to Kichijoji park was breathtaking. Every couple of minutes or so, we stopped for photographs and exchanged smiles with the locals. At the end of the long stretch of river, we appeared at what looked like a weekend art fair surrounding a lake. You know, like the one you would find going on around Powderhorn Park on the weekend in the middle of July. There were tons of merchants selling goods (and not goods) along the perimeter of the lake including kitschy jewelry and knock off photographs.
When we reach the far end of the lake, there is a pretty pathetic looking zoo. Now, I'm not sure what kind of animals live inside of a Japanese zoo, but the sign to the entrance had a picture of a squirrel on it so we decided it wasn't worth further inquiry. We grabbed some chu-hi's, stuffed them in my purse, and purchased a 30 minute paddle boat ride in a boat that looked like a giant swan. Chu-hi's are an alcoholic beverages that are pretty much the equivalent to what I like to call, "soda booze." They come in a magnitude of flavors and are sold everywhere. It is also not frowned upon to drink booze while paddle boating.
Now, if you recall my previous toilet story you will be pleased to know that all toilets in Japan are fucked. They are either super high-tech, or look like what appears to be a urinal laying on the ground. After the swan boats, I had to pee super bad. I bust open the first stall to find this ceramic urine catching device built into the ground. I immediately rush out of the restroom and check the sign to make sure that I was in the correct one. The pink girl in the triangle dress assured me that I was, and I gave it another go. I locked myself inside and soon figured out that I was expected to squat over this thing and do my business. I had no idea where to start. Do I face forward, or backwards? Again, how do I flush? What if I pee on my boots? These are the questions racing through my head. The only other time I have squatted to urinate was in a dark alley on the way home from the bar, which I may or may not have peed on my boots in the process. But this was completely different! I pulled a long string that whisked away my "business" as I struggled to get out of the squatting position. This would definitely not go over well in America. Japan:1 America: 1
The next couple hours resulted in more wandering and train rides. A little bit of shopping, enjoying the weather, and a brief nap. We had been up since 6am, after all.
At 6pm we meet up with Mike's roommates Mallory and Ashley. Both of which have lived in Japan for several years. Since Mike had to work at The Pink Cow that night, we hooked up with them for dinner. We hitched a train to Shibuya and went to a restaurant Mallory likes to call, "cheesy bacon." One of their specialties being blocks of cheese wrapped in bacon. As a matter of a fact, lots of things seemed to be wrapped in bacon, there. The restaurant is a 50's style Japanese diner. We ended up eating fantastic food and having fantastic conversation.
Our next destination was The Pink Cow to meet up with Mike and drink until he was off work. And that was exactly what we did. Time seemed to fly by, and before I knew it we were passed out back at the house. Sunday kicked my ass. Hard.
I've got my shorts on, a pair of sunglasses, and about 37 cameras in hand to document this fantastic day. The plan for the day had been to test our directional skills and make our way to Kichijoji Park for the day which was about a 30 minute walk, all in all. We finally made it out of the house around 9am and found a little bakery where absolutely nothing was in English. Inside were copious amounts of pastries and breakfast foods. We piled onto our basket any and everything that looked good, and somehow only managed to spend about 800 Yen.
It was a Sunday. The stroll to Kichijoji park was absolutely beautiful. We walked along side a river and admired all of the fruit trees and cherry blossoms along the way. If we peeked over the guard rail far enough, we could see some of the largest Koi Fish I have ever seen. The trip to Kichijoji park was breathtaking. Every couple of minutes or so, we stopped for photographs and exchanged smiles with the locals. At the end of the long stretch of river, we appeared at what looked like a weekend art fair surrounding a lake. You know, like the one you would find going on around Powderhorn Park on the weekend in the middle of July. There were tons of merchants selling goods (and not goods) along the perimeter of the lake including kitschy jewelry and knock off photographs.
When we reach the far end of the lake, there is a pretty pathetic looking zoo. Now, I'm not sure what kind of animals live inside of a Japanese zoo, but the sign to the entrance had a picture of a squirrel on it so we decided it wasn't worth further inquiry. We grabbed some chu-hi's, stuffed them in my purse, and purchased a 30 minute paddle boat ride in a boat that looked like a giant swan. Chu-hi's are an alcoholic beverages that are pretty much the equivalent to what I like to call, "soda booze." They come in a magnitude of flavors and are sold everywhere. It is also not frowned upon to drink booze while paddle boating.
Now, if you recall my previous toilet story you will be pleased to know that all toilets in Japan are fucked. They are either super high-tech, or look like what appears to be a urinal laying on the ground. After the swan boats, I had to pee super bad. I bust open the first stall to find this ceramic urine catching device built into the ground. I immediately rush out of the restroom and check the sign to make sure that I was in the correct one. The pink girl in the triangle dress assured me that I was, and I gave it another go. I locked myself inside and soon figured out that I was expected to squat over this thing and do my business. I had no idea where to start. Do I face forward, or backwards? Again, how do I flush? What if I pee on my boots? These are the questions racing through my head. The only other time I have squatted to urinate was in a dark alley on the way home from the bar, which I may or may not have peed on my boots in the process. But this was completely different! I pulled a long string that whisked away my "business" as I struggled to get out of the squatting position. This would definitely not go over well in America. Japan:1 America: 1
The next couple hours resulted in more wandering and train rides. A little bit of shopping, enjoying the weather, and a brief nap. We had been up since 6am, after all.
At 6pm we meet up with Mike's roommates Mallory and Ashley. Both of which have lived in Japan for several years. Since Mike had to work at The Pink Cow that night, we hooked up with them for dinner. We hitched a train to Shibuya and went to a restaurant Mallory likes to call, "cheesy bacon." One of their specialties being blocks of cheese wrapped in bacon. As a matter of a fact, lots of things seemed to be wrapped in bacon, there. The restaurant is a 50's style Japanese diner. We ended up eating fantastic food and having fantastic conversation.
Our next destination was The Pink Cow to meet up with Mike and drink until he was off work. And that was exactly what we did. Time seemed to fly by, and before I knew it we were passed out back at the house. Sunday kicked my ass. Hard.
Saturday, April 23, 2011
When it rains, it rains, and rains, and rains..
We woke up around 8am. 7 hours of sleep was absolutely not acceptable for me considering that I had been awake for around 28. Andrew takes it upon himself to explore the neighborhood and find some food. I remember mumbling something from beneath the covers like, "don't get lost. oh and bring me some juice." I next wake up around 10:30 am just as andrew is coming back inside. My stomach is now killing me. The pound of horse I consumed the night before is weighing heavily. He walks around the corner soaking wet and carrying a few bags of groceries. Including the juice that I had so sleepily requested. We exchange brief conversation and pass back out until 4pm.
When I wake up, it is still raining and quite breezy. We get dressed and ready for what is left of the day. Mike had been working all day and had another shift that evening at an establishment called "The Pink Cow." Luckily we had been given specific directions on how to get to his work the day before. Like his baby birds, we leave the safety of the nest and hit the streets of Tokyo in the pouring rain, make it to the train, and hold on. We get to Shibuya station find ourselves in the craziest intersection I have ever seen. When the light says stop, cars and busses carry on as per usual. But as soon as the light says walk, chaos ensues. People begin running and walking in every imaginable direction possible to cross the street. Then sure enough, as soon as the light says stop, the street is clear and traffic begins to move again.
In Japan, 98% of people use an umbrella when it is raining. Of those 98%, about 90% of those people use clear umbrellas. I soon realized that there was a method to this madness. If you are one of the two percent that doesn't have an umbrella, you will most likely lose an eye while ducking and dodging the corners of every other umbrella on the street. If you are among the percentage that uses a clear umbrella, you are smartest of all of the umbrella carriers. You see, if you use a clear umbrella not only are you protected from all of the other umbrellas around you, but you can use your umbrella as a shield while still seeing where you're going. Quite genius, I think.
After making a couple of phone calls, we make our way to The Pink Cow. How Mike ever got a job here is beyond me. It is nearly impossible to find, and quite literally a hole in the wall. But to be honest, the best places usually are holes in the walls. Another one of Tokyo's hidden gems. That night at The Pink Cow happened to be burrito night, which I could absolutely get behind because I didn't need anymore authentic dishes to fill the void the horse meat left just yet. These burritos were amazing. The best I have ever had. And in Japan! Who would have thought.
Stuffed to the brim we take off with Mike and hit another hole in the wall (naturally). This time a hookah bar with tasty shisha. We ended up ordering apple cinnamon flavor, talked for an hour or so, then headed back into the rain and then home.
Although I had only been up for around 7 hours, I was beat once again. Japan: 1, USA: 0
When I wake up, it is still raining and quite breezy. We get dressed and ready for what is left of the day. Mike had been working all day and had another shift that evening at an establishment called "The Pink Cow." Luckily we had been given specific directions on how to get to his work the day before. Like his baby birds, we leave the safety of the nest and hit the streets of Tokyo in the pouring rain, make it to the train, and hold on. We get to Shibuya station find ourselves in the craziest intersection I have ever seen. When the light says stop, cars and busses carry on as per usual. But as soon as the light says walk, chaos ensues. People begin running and walking in every imaginable direction possible to cross the street. Then sure enough, as soon as the light says stop, the street is clear and traffic begins to move again.
In Japan, 98% of people use an umbrella when it is raining. Of those 98%, about 90% of those people use clear umbrellas. I soon realized that there was a method to this madness. If you are one of the two percent that doesn't have an umbrella, you will most likely lose an eye while ducking and dodging the corners of every other umbrella on the street. If you are among the percentage that uses a clear umbrella, you are smartest of all of the umbrella carriers. You see, if you use a clear umbrella not only are you protected from all of the other umbrellas around you, but you can use your umbrella as a shield while still seeing where you're going. Quite genius, I think.
After making a couple of phone calls, we make our way to The Pink Cow. How Mike ever got a job here is beyond me. It is nearly impossible to find, and quite literally a hole in the wall. But to be honest, the best places usually are holes in the walls. Another one of Tokyo's hidden gems. That night at The Pink Cow happened to be burrito night, which I could absolutely get behind because I didn't need anymore authentic dishes to fill the void the horse meat left just yet. These burritos were amazing. The best I have ever had. And in Japan! Who would have thought.
Stuffed to the brim we take off with Mike and hit another hole in the wall (naturally). This time a hookah bar with tasty shisha. We ended up ordering apple cinnamon flavor, talked for an hour or so, then headed back into the rain and then home.
Although I had only been up for around 7 hours, I was beat once again. Japan: 1, USA: 0
horse, of course.
Seeing Mike after 2 years was quite a delight. No real news there. He was happy to see us, and boy were we happy to see him. I was kind of nervous for jet lag, but had no idea how hard it was about to kick my ass. The time difference from Toronto to Japan is 13 hour difference. And after my plan of sleeping the majority of the plane ride was crushed, I just had to ride on the stimulation to keep me awake.
After arriving at the airport, we got on a bus to a train station. Not only do I not remember the station name, I probably couldn't pronounce it anyways. The trek back to his place was about 2 hours, and I was already nodding off. There was no resting. We immediately juiced up some train passes and hit the town. We met up with some of Mike's plas who had been living in Japan for quite some time. He took us to a couple of cool spots where we got to try some very unique dishes. In Japan, they don't fuck around or start off easy. The first dish we had was fried octopus. The spongey and chewy texture had me a little uneasy, but it wasn't anything that I couldn't handle. It was the next place that threw me for a real loop.
We get to this little two level hole in the wall. The first thing that I noticed, the shoes come off. How traditional, right? We walked upstairs in our colored and mismatched socks only to find a table set into the ground and cushions to sit on. I'm thinking, "This is fucking fantastic!" At this point, I have to ask Mike to ask our waitress for everything. Bathroom, water, english menu, booze. He has become my little translator. And Japan isn't nearly as overwhelming when you have a translator.
Anyhow, Mike excuses me to the bathroom. And from behind a door that looks like a shelf, I find myself in the toilet area of the establishment. Now, I don't know if anyone has ever heard anything about Japanese toilets, but they are fucking confusing. First of all, the toilet seats are heated. Very nice little surprise as I sit down. After I do my thing, I reach for the "flusher." Oddly enough there is no flusher. Just a series of buttons with Japanese symbols, each with several settings of their own. Perplexed, I attempt to press every single button on the toilet. Nothing. After 5 minutes of button pressing, I still can't get the damn thing to flush. Although I did figure out how to give my rear end a soothing rinse and how to turn up the temperature up on the heated seat. Giving up, I leave the bathroom. By this time, the line was now around 3 people people deep. I quickly ran to my cushion on the floor making sure not to make eye contact with the next soul who dared to use the bathroom after me.
After I had put that whole fiasco behind me, the plates of food started piling onto our table. If you've never eaten horse before, don't do so in copious amounts for the first time. I consumed raw, seared, cooked, and fried horse. Apparently, horse is one of the top 5 Japanese foods! What I SHOULD have done, was eaten a piece of each and been on my merry way. Instead, I indulged in the culture. hard. It also put me into the worst food coma I have ever experienced. It was like the jet lag and horse were eah pulling on my eyelids, forcing me to sleep. Packing my stomach with an entire horse only came back to haunt me in the end. I ended up passing out for 15 hours that night. I woke up with the biggest gut rot I have ever experienced. Not only was my body hating me, but I had just slept for 15 hours straight. Jet lag was certainly a bitch. But what better bitch to bring me half way across the country to eat horse and sit on an extremely warm toilet seat.
After arriving at the airport, we got on a bus to a train station. Not only do I not remember the station name, I probably couldn't pronounce it anyways. The trek back to his place was about 2 hours, and I was already nodding off. There was no resting. We immediately juiced up some train passes and hit the town. We met up with some of Mike's plas who had been living in Japan for quite some time. He took us to a couple of cool spots where we got to try some very unique dishes. In Japan, they don't fuck around or start off easy. The first dish we had was fried octopus. The spongey and chewy texture had me a little uneasy, but it wasn't anything that I couldn't handle. It was the next place that threw me for a real loop.
We get to this little two level hole in the wall. The first thing that I noticed, the shoes come off. How traditional, right? We walked upstairs in our colored and mismatched socks only to find a table set into the ground and cushions to sit on. I'm thinking, "This is fucking fantastic!" At this point, I have to ask Mike to ask our waitress for everything. Bathroom, water, english menu, booze. He has become my little translator. And Japan isn't nearly as overwhelming when you have a translator.
Anyhow, Mike excuses me to the bathroom. And from behind a door that looks like a shelf, I find myself in the toilet area of the establishment. Now, I don't know if anyone has ever heard anything about Japanese toilets, but they are fucking confusing. First of all, the toilet seats are heated. Very nice little surprise as I sit down. After I do my thing, I reach for the "flusher." Oddly enough there is no flusher. Just a series of buttons with Japanese symbols, each with several settings of their own. Perplexed, I attempt to press every single button on the toilet. Nothing. After 5 minutes of button pressing, I still can't get the damn thing to flush. Although I did figure out how to give my rear end a soothing rinse and how to turn up the temperature up on the heated seat. Giving up, I leave the bathroom. By this time, the line was now around 3 people people deep. I quickly ran to my cushion on the floor making sure not to make eye contact with the next soul who dared to use the bathroom after me.
After I had put that whole fiasco behind me, the plates of food started piling onto our table. If you've never eaten horse before, don't do so in copious amounts for the first time. I consumed raw, seared, cooked, and fried horse. Apparently, horse is one of the top 5 Japanese foods! What I SHOULD have done, was eaten a piece of each and been on my merry way. Instead, I indulged in the culture. hard. It also put me into the worst food coma I have ever experienced. It was like the jet lag and horse were eah pulling on my eyelids, forcing me to sleep. Packing my stomach with an entire horse only came back to haunt me in the end. I ended up passing out for 15 hours that night. I woke up with the biggest gut rot I have ever experienced. Not only was my body hating me, but I had just slept for 15 hours straight. Jet lag was certainly a bitch. But what better bitch to bring me half way across the country to eat horse and sit on an extremely warm toilet seat.
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