The parties and karaoke and stuff.....

Alright bat country well this is for you. You are right, enough of the tiresome, lengthy descriptions infused with contemplative, poetic ramblings. I wouldn't want to read that either! Well, my first night out in Tokyo began not long after our vist to Harajuku and the shrine. We made our way through the busy streets past all the trendy shops and cafes to Shibuya where all the immaculately dressed youth of Japan strut their stuff. I saw some pretty interesting hairstyles and one or two of those Louis Vuitton handbags that apparently I am in contention with. (At the training in London I was told that when we approach students in the renewal campaigns what we had to remember was that their decision, as to whether to renew with the company or not, came down to a choice between a new LV bag or - you, their teacher! Hey ho. Oh by the way the I got me first renewal a couple of days ago, so bonus on the way, hoorah! Unfortunately I don't think it will equal the cost of a Vuitton handbag.)

Anyway, we waited outside the station at the spot where everyone waits for their friends - by the statue of a dog. I can't remember his name but the story goes like this. The dog once belonged to a professor who worked in the area, and everyday the dog would wait outside the station for his master to return and then escort him home. However, one day the professor died but the dog was so faithful he continued his vigil every day at the same time, hoping his master would return, but of course he never did. After a number of years went by, the dog too, finally passed away. The local people were so touched by his loyalty they erected the little monument to him and now this is where everybody else wait too. Well, we were waiting there a bloody long time, probably about an hour, so God knows how the poor dog felt after all those years! Finally a group of about twenty expats had congregated and all the introductions were made. There were a few token Japanese too and we all trooped off to a bar off the main drag. One of the teachers was leaving to return to the UK to do a journalism course, so it was her farewll do. She had organised it somehow so that we had this little bar to ourselves. It was really weird. It was in an old building that appeared derelict and up a few flights of concrete stairs. Further up the road were a bunch of love hotels whose neon signs winked at passerbys.

Ok, so the party started here. It was about 6pm and the deal was you paid 3,000 yen and you could drink as much as you liked for three hours. They also laid on some pretty unappetising food of which you could eat as much as you like. Needless to say most of it was left untouched. The deal was probably a good one for the owners of the venue when their customers were Japanese, but unfortunately they were accommodating thirsty westerners. In those three hours a lot of pitchers of beer and cocktails were consummed!

At about nine everyone trooped out into the craziness that is Shibuya. I chatted to some guy who likes surfing and followed the group across the busy road. I found myself in a brightly lit lobby. We were about to be checked into a karaoke booth. It was like a hotel, only the rooms were fitted with microphones and tv screens, a low stage and comfortable benches (that could double as a bed if needs be.) The toilets there were pretty cool too if I recall correctly - you got the works: heated seat, water jets the whole lot. It's always a surprise! So this was my first karaoke. If it hadn't been for the drinks before hand I would have been doing a runner because that whole thing is really not my cup of tea. To sit back and listen to drunks slur tunelessly into a microphone along to a backing track of Madonna's 'like a prayer' is really not my idea of fun. There was no escaping though. I allowed by new friend to type in 'hot stuff' by Donna Summer and ordered another tequila sunrise. My turn came soon enough and my hilarious effort was greeted by the same applause that all the rest of the inebriated songsters got. It was pretty amusing I must confess but I think I would rather spend my night in a dingy jazz club sipping G&Ts. After a couple of hours there and anouther 4,000 Ys later we were back out in the Tokyo night. The city was positively buzzing and there was some debate as to where to go next. A few people left to get the last train back to sanity but I was having too much fun.

A decision had been made and the remainder of the clan wound up in a strange little underground club called 'gas panic' that played R&B. When we arrived it was almost empty and two cops were standing at the bar. Within an hour or so it was heaving though, a mix of half westerners and half locals. I found myself chatting to a couple of Aussie guys who worked as sound engineers on the Spiderman 2 movie. They were off to Europe the following day on a trip of somekind. By about 2.30 we were all on the dancefloor dancing to some awful noise but having loads of fun all the same. By about 4.30 am I decided I had had enough. The ten or so hours of drinking had caught up with me and I just wanted to go to bed. However I was a 35 minute train journey and a 15 minute walk away from home and the first train was not for a couple more hours. So I decided to get a taxi. My friends tried to warn me against it, telling me how expensive it would be but I honestly didn't care. I just had to get home. I had to be at a lunch with an Japanese women and a colleague at midday and needed some sleep before hand. Their suggestion was to go to another karaoke bar where I could sleep and then get up and catch the last train. I would normally have gone along with this plan, it certainly would have been cheaper, but that night all I could think about was my wafer thin futon which, at the time, seemed so inviting.

I walked with a friend beneath the glare of the Shibuya neon to a green taxi. My compadre gave the driver my address in Japanese and we set off through the city as the sun was coming up. I think I fell asleep because the next thing I knew the driver was asking me for directions to my house. I somehow managed to communicate with him even though I spoke no Japanese and he no English and I didn7t quite know where I was! It was great to get to bed but it really was THE most expensive taxi ride ever. I had to run into my appartment to get hime more money! It's pretty funny really. But that was my first night in Tokyo, it was an experience - an expensive one but a memorable one and I put it down as just unavoidable expense, but one to be avoided in future. Next time I will either get the last train back or do an all-nighter.... Madness!