This car is named "Smart" but I bet you'd look pretty stupid driving it. It's like the Le Car of the new millenium. I have something quiet similar to this in my garage at home. It's called "Bike" ;)
The super happy fun adventures of a guy named Joe. A guy who occassionally gets lost in his own house. Just imagine what will happen in another country.
I have become somewhat of a chopstick master, not by choice but necessity. Chopsticks always seemed like a novelty to me. Pick up a few pieces of Kung Pow chicken, get sick of dropping stuff and move back to the good 'ole fork. I don't know who invented chopsticks but I imagine somebody did it as a joke and it stuck. Kind of a pop culture phenomenon of the 7th century type thing.
I have had VERY little sleep so I thought it would be a good time to make some stupid obser- vations. As if all of my observations aren't stupid...
Last night I went to a district called Roppongi. This area is close to the Tokyo Tower, which is a red and white knock off of the Eiffel Tower. Roppongi is supposed to be the area where westerners hang out, though I only noticed a handful of westerners walking around. It also seems to have one of the most active night lives in all of Tokyo.
Tokyo is a crazy place. The Roppongi district consists of dozens and dozens of blocks of bars, restaurants and coffee shops. Each building is around eight stories tall and each story contains a different bar or restaurant. One building might have eight signs trying to lure you in: Sushi, Sushi, Dance Club, “Gentlemen’s Club” (more on that later), Sushi, Sushi and so on. ;)
As you walk around this district you are constantly approached by friendly Nigerian men trying to give you free passes to the club they work for. They are very friendly but don’t like to take no for an answer.
You’d think the best way to get rid of them would be to ignore them. Unfortunately, they follow you. One guy asked if I was looking for pretty ladies. I said “no thanks”. He then asked if I would like to sit and have drinks with pretty ladies. I said “no thanks”. I started walking faster but he kept up the pace. “Do you want to dance with pretty girls?”. Ha! Double “NO THANKS” (neither I nor the pretty ladies would want to deal with that). He finally stopped me and asked “What do you want then?” in a sign of defeat. “A Starbucks” I answered. This confused him completely. USA 1 - Nigeria 0. ;) I did have to double-back to get my Starbucks but I made sure to wave and raise my itty bitty Mocha in salute as I walked past him on the way back.
One thing as popular in Roppongi as Sushi and Gentlemen’s Clubs are Chinese foot massage stands. They consist of a candle, a table and chair and a big sign of a foot with a map of all of the different pressure points that will cure what ails you.
As I was waiting for the light to change at an intersection and enjoying my victory Starbucks, a cute little Japanese girl (well, lady- she was small in stature, not a child) approached me and said something in Japanese. I told her I didn’t speak Japanese and she told me I was lying (she thought I was Japanese). I guess I fit into this dark haired culture pretty well. After my country of origin was fully established she circled back to her original reason for approaching me: a massage. 3000 Yen (about $30).
Slightly confused, I asked “a foot massage?” even though I was not the least bit interested in having my feet rubbed by some stranger on a busy street. She answered “Everything…” nudging me and giving me the “you know what I’m saying” look. Aww crap! After shaking off the Nigerians I now have a 4 foot 2 prostitute looking to make a quick $30 from some freewheeling American. And to make matters worse, I am stuck at the longest stop light in the world.
I answered “no thanks” but she thought she had a fish on the line. She kept hounding me to “check it out. My place is right there (of course it had to be in the direction I was going). “No thanks”. “You will like it!”. “No thanks!”. “Front and back!”. “NO THANKS!”. The light turned green and this persistent little she-devil actually attempted to push me in the direction of her unmarked “massage therapy center”. Acting on instinct I pulled this quick two-step move that even Amy would have admired and got around her- just in time to hit another Don’t Walk sign on the next corner. Damn it! Luckily the tenth “no” answer sent her looking for greener pastures. It was creepy, funny and weird all at the same time. I pondered whether V.D. could be transmitted by air and quickly scooted away once the light turned green.
Three things I learned last night:
1. If ever approached by a smooth talking sales guy, confuse them with coffee.
2. While massages are very common in Japan (they even offer harmless in-room Shiatsu massages at my hotel), if you ever have to ask “What kind?” you probably don’t want to know.
3. Nigerians rule the sex trade in Japan (I looked it up). They also come from a country that is an untapped market for the forex industry. ;)
I feel like Tom Thumb. My bed is approx- imately 3 feet by 5 feet and doesn't sit very high off the ground. To demonstrate, I took my size 10 1/2 shoe and propped it up against the bed. It is SMALL and as hard as a piece of plywood. To make matters worse, I think the pillow is actually a twenty pound bag of kitty litter with a pillow cover over it. It is hard, weighs *WAY* more than any pillow should, and you can feel the course pieces of litter as you squeeze the pillow.
So I made it to Tokyo. Hurray. The first stop was customs. A bit of a surreal experience. There were 10-12 lines of people all waiting to be interrogated and searched. As I was watching I noticed that a lot of japanese men had "duty free" bags. I guess the gist of duty free is to get stuff on the cheap without paying import and other assorted taxes. The duty free bags are all see through so people can't hide stuff (which is stupid because they rummage through it anyway).