Ginza in the rain

Sunday 18th June. Yes I am still a little behind on my posts I know. I don't know why, but I feel I have to write up the weekends because that is when I do something other than the daily grind of getting up at 10.30 am, drink a leisurely cup of Earl Gray to the sounds of the trains thundering by and stroll to work in my suit in the muggy humidity of a new day. It's getting hot now, and the air conditioning in one of my schools has packed in. This, amusingly, results in a show of handy flannels emerging from pockets and bags with which students dab their moistened foreheads nervously. (Sometimes I wonder if it's my teaching methods that does it?) Anyway, have I even reported a typical day? Perhaps not. I will do so at a later date, just for the record.

So, Sunday. I scanned my guide books for inspiration. It was a new and completely free day for me. What should I do? I don't really know why but I decided that I wanted to see the Sony building, the description I read of it sounded rather tantalizing. A train ride later and I disembarked in another crowded station, with my i-pod on shuffle. I figured that whatever tune came on it would somehow be significant. (I guess that there is nothing random about it though, seeeing as I meticulously selected every song that went on it before I went. I mean this is all I have had to listen to for the last month - 248 glorious tracks, that are now becoming rather tired. How depressing. I need to get a stereo so that I can listen to all the mixed CDs that I have either made, or been given by my friends before leaving.)

A short walk later in the drizzle I arrived at a pedestrian crossing. I had an umbrella in my bag but it was warm. I was wearing jeans, flip-flops and a vest, but just didn't care about the rain. I mean I had my music. I was completely anonymous. I would not bump into anyone I knew, I felt liberated and lonely. I just didn't really care. It feels like being invisible in a strange way. I know I can do anything I want and people will either be too intimidated to say anything, because I am Western, or will try and communicate but we will be unable to because of the language barrier. I feel completely alienated from the culture I am living in. But, the thing that makes the experience a positive one is that I am interested in the culture and don't mind being alone. At least not at the moment. Ask me again in a few weeks and I may say something to the contrary. It is funny because sometimes I feel like I stand out a mile. People do look at me on the trains, especially when I am doing the commute. This is because I am out of the center of the city and people here really aren't that familiar with Westerners. (I am not however in Shikoku or Okinawa - now that really is difficult. I have friends out there who tell me they have barely seen a Westerner in the last month.) The other day I was in the local post office and this little kid sat next to me and was just staring at me. It was most disconcerting! The feeling of alienation I guess comes from not feeling connected or related in anyway to the environment one is living in, or the people one is living amongst. That is why people often say that the most extreme loneliness is felt in cities when you are surrounded by people. It sounds like a paradox, but it is in fact true. You become self-aware as a result of the people you interact with. If no-one is interacting with you then you start to feel like you do not actually exist! At least that is how it feels for me sometimes!

A strange thing happened though when I was waiting at that crossing in Ginza, in the drizzle, two Sundays ago. Whilst I was waiting for the green man to appear, and grooving to Johnny Cash's "Hurt" (cheerful) a man offered me his umbrella! I was so surprised! I laughed and declined his kind offer though, showing him the umbrella in my bag - he must have thought I was crazy! But how could I explain to him that I liked getting rained on because I felt alienated from my environment and wanted to feel connected with it in any way I could?! Him offering though made me realise I am not invisible and that I do exist, and that despite how it feels sometimes, I am a participant in everyone of their subjective worlds that I pass through. Maybe I am mad, I don't know, but I wouldn't have it any other way....

I took a couple of one minute videos of orange taxis and skyscrapers in the mist and headed for the Sony building just across the street. It was pretty cool. They had a gorgeous red convertible BMW on a rotating platform that I was rather enamoured by, but, sorry boys, I can't remember the model. It looked good though and one day I will have one, or something better! I wandered around for a while in my flip-flops and soggy jeans but felt a little uncomfortable because all these people kept welcoming me, and it was perfectly obvious I was not going be buying the latest flat screen TV, or digital camera, so I left. Ginza is one of the most famous shopping districts in the world, though apparently lacks the glamour and sophistication of other places. It does however retain a certain snob value because of it's reputation. Designer boutiques and expensive restaurants line its broad streets. It is where the very wealthy go to relieve themselves of wealth, in exchange for something beautiful. It left me feeling depressed and resentful. Am I only worth a nicotine stained wall shoe box to live in? I asked. Am I only worth enough money to scrape buy on, whilst working ten hour days? I can't afford lovely clothes, and I want them. I am not paid enough to walk into the Sony building and buy a camera, and I want to be able to. Ginza left me bitter I am sorry to say. I did however see some amazing plastic food displays and a traditional Kabuki theatre, which were a delight. The weather got me down too I think. The endless precipitation, the umbrellas, the puddles, the humidity, the greyness that seeped into dusk by 4pm.... it was a recipe for gloom.

I was soon back on a train, soaking wet, and in a state of utter desperation. I was engulfed by questions of who I was and what I was doing here. I felt a burning determination to do something, but I didn't know what it was I was suposed to do. I felt/feel there is something important, something profitable I am supposed to do, or could be doing if only I could think of it. I am not afraid of hard work, I would work towards any goal if only I could discover what it was.... Sorry, it's typical 'travellers in their twenties soul searching' stuff. But it is the only life I have ever had, and the process is one I have to go through. Questions, questions., there are so many questions. The thing is that I like asking them and I enjoy being forced to have to ask them by putting myself in difficult situations. I guess this makes me a philosopher of sorts. Who knows? I haven't managed to understand my motives yet.

After Ginza I went to Shinjuku again because it was Father's day and I wanted to send my Dad a video of me in the craziest place in Tokyo. I exited the station and crossed a frenetic zebra of scratching, transparent umbrellas, and hurrying grey suits. The neon that I love so much, was climbing the sides of monstrous buildings in the fog and steam and shrieks greeted me at the gateway of Kabukicho. I made my video and walked for a bit until the rain came down in torrents and I gave up. I pushed through the soggy Japanese and past the howling pachinko parlours back to that station. I hadn't really done anything with my day except walk, think, and get wet. I saw an ad for my phone glow on a screen on the side of the building, and gained some satisfaction in the thought that I possessed one of the newest examples of mobile communication available to the public, on the planet. Even the Japanese are impressed with my new toy. (The Sharp 905SH.) It will be superceded by a better model in a month or two though, so I have to bask in the glory while I can!

Upon arrival back in Toyoda, I went to the supermarket to stock up on the necessaries - wine, fruit and salad and anything that basically looked familiar and wasn't sheets of dried seaweed or polystyrene trays of purple squid. It is always fun going shopping. You never know what you are going to arrive home with. The other day I bought some milk but when I went to pour it in my tea I discovered it was iced-tea! Then there is the comical use of English they use on much of the packaging - for example tins of tuna have 'enjoy cooking with sea-chicken' written on them! I never have much idea about what has meat in and what doesn't. I have bought a couple of salads only to discover slices of ham or dead fish in them. But it is all part of the adventure! As for prices, everything is either the same price or cheaper than in England. Booze is cheap on the whole. I like the 50p cans of beer that is not actually beer. (It is made from rice or something, I am not sure, but it tastes like Budweiser - just a light lager. It's not bad at all.) The pricier stuff is imported, but even then it is not much more than in the UK. I have discovered a source of drinkable Californinan red wine, but I think I am the only person who buys it from that shop! Anyway, the idea that Tokyo is expensive really is a myth. I mean it cost us fifteen quid each to go for a night out in an izakaya, where you can eat and drink as much as you like for an evening. Sure, it is not the centre of Tokyo, and you can spend a fortune, but you don't have to.