Humour

Saturday night, July 1st.

The night had been a strange but highly amusing one. I finished work at the usual time of about eight and had accepted an invitation to meet for drinks with the guy from NY and some of his Japanese friends. We met in an English pub in the near vicinity of the station. It would have been just like being back at home except for the fact that it was accessed via several flights of steel stairs in a grotty block, and through a heavy fridge-like door. Several TV screens were playing an homage to Germany, hosts of the World Cup. Behind the bar, a bald Japanese man wearing a bowler hat, polished glasses. I was introduced to a young guy wearing a black Rolling Stones T-shirt, that was studded with diamante, front and back. He proudly announced that it cost him 150 quid. At that moment three of American expats, possibly army bods, sauntered in.

It was weird because when you see fellow Westerners you sort of have the urge to acknowledge them. You don't though, and force your self to ignore them. I mean what could you say? "Hi. So you are Western too. What are you doing here?...." It is like you are all members of a group united only by the fact that you do not really 'belong'. You are from elsewhere, and for some reason have chosen to move to the other side of the world to start a new life in (or visit) Japan. You somehow feel connected because of this, but in reality you are not. One shys away from other Westerners unless they are formally introduced. I sort of find myself resenting their presence at times, (if they are strangers). Perhaps because I feel they are intruding on my experience of this foreign culture, reminding me of home.... I don't know. All I can say is that the experience is a strange one. Actually, I can't remember now if I mentioned this before, but I passed a Western guy in the internet cafe, and we both spontaneously said hello to one another. I almost laughed afterwards wondering why we had done so. He probably thought the same.

A little while later we found ourselves an eaterie that claimed to be an Italian restaurant. We were greeted by a youthful and very bubbly bunch of Japanese. One guy had the longest hair you have ever seen, which is certainly a rare sight out here. The evening was spent drinking and when the bill arrived I was pretty irritated to find I was sharing the cost of all the food they had eaten. However, it had been an entertaining evening so I didn't complain. The shaggy haired guy had falled asleep at the table. I haven't come across quite such an eccentric fellow for quite some time actually. He had been ludicrously drunk and had attempted to chat-up all the girls in the restaurant, but failed miserably because he was so ridiculous and comical in his approach. He tended to slap his face whilst singing "pah, pah, pah, pah, paaaaaah!" and then ask them what their name was! It was so very odd, and reminded me a little of the bizzare scene in 'Lost in Translation' where Bob meets the gameshow host.

I have not watched very much TV since I have been out here but of all the eight or nine channels available, there is really nothing I would want to watch. The last time I tuned in at around 9 pm. There was a game show of some kind on. The two guys, who were wearing very little, had to fight each other and then launch themselves down a plastic slide, whilst covered in oil. Their families cheered proudly as they did this. I had absolutely no idea what on earth it was all about. Give me 'Countdown' any day!

The night ended as all nights do - with me catching the last train home. It had been fun, but I left feeling sort of empty. As if, although I had laughed, I had somehow missed the joke....