I Think Im Turning Japanese

I was up and wide awake by 7:30 am, no thanks to jet lag. Because I was told my luggage would be shipping sometime before 1:00 pm I didn't really have many options within the apartment, so I just laid in bed reading a book...waiting. Hell, maybe my roommates will be around?

Around 11:00 am there was a doorbell ring, hooray! I opened the door and there was a very tiny Japanese man with my bags...each bag alone was almost bigger than him, good thing he had a cute little cart to wheel them around on!
I spent the next hour unpacking all of my clothes, folding them onto pre-determined shelves, and hanging them on pre-determined rods. Unfortunately once our apartment was sometime sun-lit it somehow appeared even dirtier than the previous night.
Ugh.
Seriously, it was worse than any dorm room I've ever seen. THAT takes a serious lack of effort! And it wasn't like there were just some clothes here and there, and some dirty dishes in the kitchen. The bathroom was essentially completely covered with a variety of scums, the floors were full of crumbs, dust and pubes. The rugs all had weird stains, and the kitchen had a peculiar oder to it. IN FACT the cleanest room was the one with the toilet in it, go figure.
My first reaction was to clean it all up, but after some serious self-restraint I promised myself that I would at least bring it up with whoever was training me and see if I could get the company to clean it up first. Which makes perfect sense because our lease explicitly outlines that we need to keep the place clean, it will be inspected occasionally, and that cleaning charges would be charged if necessary.


The shelves in my room.


My bed.


My desk.


My air conditioner.


My door.


Doors here are very short.


My closet.


The essentials: Passport, Cloves, Japanese Yen, Crazy Fucking Bottle of Tea. (Notice who it's bottled by?...)

After unpacking my bags there was still no contact with roommate life-forms, so I decided to just go wander about and see if there was anything neat nearby.
The minute I stepped outside the heat/humidity hit me like a wall...UGH. By the time I made my way back to the train station I had arrived to the night before I was completely covered with sweat.
Ok, I'm going back home where there's air conditioning!

For all intensive purposes: MISSION FAILED.

When I got back home I turned on the air conditioner in my room and took in the sweet sweet air. What am I doing here? It hit me like a sack of rocks. Why am I sitting alone in a room, in Japan, with nothing to do, where it's too hot to even be outside? I have no phone. No internet. No way to contact anyone. I'm sitting in a dirty ass apartment, hungry as shit. What the FUCK am I doing...
I'd be lying if I didn't say there were thoughts of just going back to the States.

'knock knock knock'
I opened my bedroom door, "eyyyyy mate, I see you made it."
"Hehe, yup. My name's Derek."
"Ey, I'm Tim....uggggh....so how was your trip?" He sounded like someone had just hit him with a baseball bat.
"Good, good. I'm jet lagging pretty bad, but it went pretty smooth."
"Right. That's good. Do you want a cup of coffee?"
"Nah, I'm fine thanks." I followed him to the kitchen. "So rough night last night?"
"Ey. Yeah. It was a stupid night. Ugh, I did too many stupid things." As he put a kettle of water on the stove.
"Oh man...well...haha, I dunno. Those nights are usually pretty good nights though!"
"Uggh. Yeah. Last night was just a stupid night though man. Did way too many stupid things."
"Haha."
Conversation eventually progressed to where we were from, why we were here, etc. etc.

By the time Tim finished his coffee, he threw on some shorts and a t-shirt and offered to show me where the grocery store and "better" train station were. Again, we stepped outside and WUMP! The humidity wall strikes again.

"So." I began to ask him, as we walked down the street. "What was going on in our building last night?"
"Oh! Did you feel it!? I sleep right through it, but a couple people txt'd me that we had an earthquake!"
"Holy shit! Well that makes sense! My bed was waving all over the place!"

Go figure the first day I leave L.A. I FINALLY get to be in an earthquake.

Another brief topic along the way was "Who was the girl?" But that answer received little explanation other than, "Ugh. Man, it was a stupid stupid night." BUT it was followed with some great advise about wearing two condoms and putting hot sauce in between them. God knows you'd feel it if something malfunctioned!


So the grocery store ended up being quite large, and very close by (in a direction I hadn't walked before). I grabbed some sushi and


orange juice
and we made our way to the train station


(crossing a very lovely bridge along the way, my apartment sits right next to a river/canal).
HOLY...blinking....lights. THIS is the Japan I expected. There was crap...EVERYWHERE. Pichinko parlors, blinking signs, giant TVs with crazy-ass videos playing on them, huge billboards with anime girls on them, more signs than I've ever seen in my life- all covered with crazy Japanese. I couldn't help but just laugh at it all. Tim was kind of used to it already (he's been here for 10 months) but he smiled too, probably remembering the first time he took it all in.

He showed me the train station, and how to purchase a ticket...I understood the system, but it was going to take some getting used to. Basically, unlike most American cities, you can't buy a daily pass, or a one-way ticket. You purchase a ticket whose price is based on where you are traveling too. So, for instance, if I wanted to travel from that train station, 3 stops down to Akihabara, I would look at an enormous train map on the wall, entirely in Japanese, and buy a ticket for the amount of the price listed next to Akihabara (Y150, which is 150 yen, or basically $1.50).
Once you purchase your ticket, you walk over to the "turnstiles," slide your ticket into a machine that is essentially the divider of the different aisles, walk through when the gates pop to the side, and your ticket shoots out the divider machine on the other side. Once you get on your train (there's usually 4 different lines at each station) you ride it to your stop, get off, and slide your ticket into the same type of machine to get out.
But there's some catches to this system. For instance, if you didn't pay enough for your ticket the machine won't pop the gates open and it will just spit the ticket back out at you. If this happens you have to go over to a "Fare Adjustment" machine, slide your ticket it, and it will tell you how much more you have to pay. After you pay the machine, it gives you your ticket back (now with more money on it) and you can then attempt again to go through the gates.

It was a lot to try and remember on the spot, especially when there were a million people flowing around us as loud Japanese things made loud Japanese noises. But the biggest question was answered- How do you use the ticket machine, because they are entirely in Japanese. It's as easy as simply putting money in it and selecting the ticket for the amount you want on a touch screen full of pictures.


Extremely basic map of the local train system which lists the prices of every stop (of course the stops are written in Japanese even though the trains and stations all list the names in English alphabet).

Next up was finding a pay phone. After wandering a little bit we found a pay phone next to a park, where I made a quick call to my parents using a free 11-minute phone card I had received the day before in my official Nova arrival package (Nova is the company I'm working for).
"Hi mom!...Yup everything is fine...I only have a couple minutes on my phone card...Eh, it's pretty different here...It's kinda dirty...Yeah, I'm fine, don't worry about it...I know, it's just kind of a culture shock...Haha, I know. Alright, I'm going to try and find place where I can get free internet so I'll email you guys as soon as I can...alright, love ya too! Say hi to dad...hehe, alright, bye!"
And then we were on our way back home.

Tim had to go to work for a few hours, so I ate my sushi, drank my orange juice and took a nap. The jet lag was UNBELIEVABLE. I've never been so tired at 4 in the afternoon in my life.
We had made plans early to meet up near the train station when he got out of work (around 9:00 pm). He was going to show me a popular "town" called Shinjuku, the place where he had been partying the night before. Our mission was to find the his cell phone that he had left at a club who's name and location he didn't remember.


We took the Kinshicho train (the closest one to where I live) to Ochanomizu, switched over to an express line and then took that straight to Shinjuku. The novelty of being on a Japanese train was far from wearing off. Everyone is so tiny! The advertisements are completely insane! Why is there a picture of two raccoon saying "Don't put your hands in the pocket" pointing to where the doors open!? The train is SO clean! Everyone has the same blocky looking cell-phone! The seats are all covered with material and padded, like couches, why the hell are we using hard plastic in the States!?
Along the way two white guys stepped onto the train, which is extremely easy to spot amongst all of the Japanese. "HEEEEEEEY!!!" The shouted at Tim while waving around the cans of beer in their hands.
"Eyyyy! WhatareyouBLOKESupto?"
They raised their beer cans and eyed them, "Doin' the Nova thing eh!?" Ooooh MAN! If all my coworkers are like this, this is going to get CRAZY!
We walked over and Tim introduced me. I asked them if drinking on trains (and in public in general) was accepted in Japan, or if they were just throwing caution to the wind.
"Nah mate, you can drink alcohol anywhere you want here! You just can't eat on the train. That duhdn't make much sense though ey?"
"Fuck, who cares, just drink more!"

We all got off the train at Shinjuku, at this point I was deep in conversation with one of the guys (who was from Philadelphia) about a many topics- ranging from missing philly cheese-steaks, to who in the company holds the record for being the fastest at banging a Japanese chick once they got to Japan.
When we walked outside of the station we were COMPLETELY and UTTERLY SURROUNDED by...what could only be described as seizure inducing sign-age.


Every square inch of the city was COVERED with bars, clubs, pichinko parlors, restaurants, convenience stores, and vending machines. I wanted to take a picture but I had NO idea where to even begin.
The 4 of us stood there, they all kind of looked at me. "This is our playground." said the guy I was previously talking to, as he threw his empty beer into a garbage can.
"Jesus..." was about the only phrase I could think to mutter.

A few minutes later Tim and I parted ways from them, trying to keep our eyes on the mission: Operation Cellular Phone Machine.

It actually only took about 5 minutes to find the club...and I use the term "club" in Japanese terms.
First off- along the way we were being stopped every now and then by some pretty muscular black men, who were asking us if we were looking for "beer or women." Apparently soliciting for bars/clubs/"massage" parlors is pretty common-place here. And for some reason, which I'm not sure I completely understand, it is almost ALWAYS done by very large black men...that speak perfect English.
Secondly- a "club" in Japan is essentially a pimped out dorm-room. You walk in, there are some crazy neon lights on the walls, a fully stocked bar, some turntables, and...about 15 square feet of space in which to party.

Tim began to speak broken Japanese to the bartender, the bar was basically empty, I guess it was still early? The bartender didn't seem to know what Tim was trying to ask him and finally just said, "Are you looking for your phone?"
"Yeah," said Tim, "I think it's the one sitting right there," pointing at a phone wedged between two liquor bottles at the back wall of the bar.

For all intensive purposes: MISSION ACCOMPLISHED.

Tim called up his friend Nat (Natalie) whom we were going to meet with and grab some food and drinks. As we stood at the prearranged meeting spot we just talked about how insane this whole setting was. Basically gawking at the most amazingly hot/cute Japanese girls I've ever seen in my life.
I mean, how often do you see a girl that is cute...AND, also hot? Not TOO often. And essentially that's the type of girl I'm attracted to. Hell, who isn't. So when you see one once every blue moon it's like "Wow."
But this was the first time in my life that there were TONS of cute/hot girls. It was like..."SuperPandaRainbow Wow."

While we waited Tim told me to step inside a pichinko parlor real quick. I shrugged..."Ok." I mean, I had seen them everywhere since I got here, so it didn't occur to me that I hadn't actually stepped inside one yet.
It was the LOUDEST goddamn thing I've ever heard in my life.
INDESCRIBABLY loud.
The electronic beeps and whirls combined with the clinking of ball bearings falling through the machines...it was twice as loud as when I was front row at Rage Against the Machine. EASILY twice as loud.
I stepped back outside, ears ringing. "Christ dude. I couldn't hear myself think!"
"Pretty insane right?"

Eventually Natalie had found us, and it was suggested we go to the "Ron Jeremy" restaurant. Low and behold, the sign for the place had a bloke on it who looked eerily similar to Ron Jeremy.
It's hard to explain, so I'll have to take some pictures, but the majority of eateries are within tall buildings. So yeah, you might find a couple places to eat out on the street, but the majority of the time you see a sign with restaurant logo's sitting next to an elevator. Next to each logo is "2F", "3F", "4F", and so on- indicating which floor the restaurant is on.
So you get inside an elevator that is about 4 square feet, push the floor corresponding to the restaurant, and take the elevator there. Once you get to that floor, you step into a roughly 10 square foot lobby. This is typically followed by having to open up a sliding door, most of which are electronic- so you touch the handle with a finger and the door slides leftwards into the wall. Very "Matrix"-esque. When you step in a host asks you how many, you hold up the number on your hand, and then they show you to your seat.
This is commonly followed by the inspection on whether or not your menu has: a)English b)Pictures or c)Just straight up Japanese (in which you, you are playing menu roulette).

After pushing a button on the table, which beckons a waiter (otherwise you would simply just yell out "sumimasen" to anyone that walked by, and they would take your order), I pointed to a picture to order friend chicken pieces. The waiter nodded and said, "Hi! Eh...friedu chicken...uh...cartilage."
"Uhhh...no. Chicken MEAT." I emphasized.
Oh boy.
Tim and Natalie reassured me once he left, if you bite it and it kind of pops in your mouth then you know it's cartilage not meat.
Great.

The rest of the night was chatting, eating and a little drinking. Natalie had mentioned going to hike Mt. Fuji with a bunch of people, inviting us to come along. "HELL YEAH!" was my first reaction. So I'll be doing that this coming Thursday.
At around midnight we had to part way, the Japanese trains mostly stop running at 12:30 so it was time to get heading home. (It should be noted that people often miss the trains and usually either just keep drinking until 5:00 am ((when the trains are running again)) or head to internet/manga cafe's and sleep inside a computer booth- which typically has a reclining chair and curtains. Of course capsule hotels are always an option, but those are a bit more pricey.)

That was quite a first day...