Lost in Nippon

« Return to Japan (Tokyo)

It was overcast, a crisp fall day. At the stunning manicured Japanese Gardens surrounding the Imperial Palace, koi swam in green ponds and every pebble had its place. Over the traditional gate, I could see a cement building, and beyond that, a modern skyrise. We went into the subway and walked half a kilometer underground to the right train. Like all subways, nobody talked much, although there were a couple of impeccably behaved dogs on board. On the street, a rat dog off a leash walked three inches behind its owner. With my one pair of jeans and fading hoodie, I felt terribly out of place. While locals are polite, respectful and helpful, they are also notoriously skeptical of foreigners (called Gaijin, apparently from the word that means “enemy”). Rightly annoying anyone who has to commute several hours a day, foreigners in Tokyo usually live in central subsidized apartments, earning top dollar. Meanwhile, Nippon’s prices keep most backpackers in Thailand. I heard a story about a couple taking a second mortgage to pay off a Tokyo shopping spree. Being a world city, I expected to see more English, but most products, vending machines, restaurant menus and signs are only in Nipponese. My Accountant and his wife have been here almost a year and are learning the language, but with 2000 characters and symbols, Nipponese is verbal torture for westerners They have to take into account pitch (speaking with a higher pitch to those they respect). A simple comment can be said in three different ways, depending on who they’re saying it to. Formal, polite and informal speech are like three different languages. Before saying anything, they have to be aware of who they’re talking to, the situation they’re in, and how they’re going to pronounce the actual words. Domo arigoto, Mr Roboto!

I’m in Tokyo for a week, and if you don’t hear from me again, send the rescue team (with plenty of Advil). Besides the inevitable physical abuse, I hope to get to the bottom of this city, it’s people and it’s secrets. My investigations into the legendary vending machine that dispenses used schoolgirl panties has already yielded fruit; it is NOT an urban legend, but finding it is not going to be easy. The air is so thick and foggy that I might be able to catch a glimpse of Fuji when I’m standing on it. Obnoxious karioke is on the cards, but unfortunately I’m going to miss the next Sumo competition. Whatever happens, there is a very real buzz in Tokyo, and that’s not just the cold-filtered sake talking.

The Resnik Condo
Omotesando, Tokyo

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